Richard Bell's nature sketchbook since 1998
8.45 am: We hear a flock of grey geese – probably pink-footed – approaching. They’re flying low, heading slightly north of east, towards the Calder Valley. I guess there are about 200 in a couple of ragged ‘Vs’.
We had a sprinkling of snow overnight which remains powdery all day. I sweep it from the drive rather than scoop it away.
On our walk to Emroyd Common, along a footpath between fields we walk through a cloister-like tunnel of hollies.
No mud this morning, the ground is frozen solid and the leaf litter and debris on the paths crunch like gravel as we walk up through the woodland of Emroyd Common. Hoar frost crystals have formed in a few patches in sheltered spots alongside a hedgerow and there are ferny patterns on car windscreens.
Two roe deer trot along at the edge of a pasture along the top edge of the wood.
For several days as we passed the houses at the top end of our lane, I’ve been scanning around to see if there was a buzzard or red kite circling. As we were beginning to suspect, it is actually a starling giving what to me seems like a passable impersonation of a buzzard mewing.
As we walk back through Emroyd we disturb a buzzard, which flies off down the slope through the oak woodland.
Struggling to draw garden birds flitting around the feeders, I realise why I like to get out drawing ducks, geese and swans resting and preening at the water’s edge.
As these smaller birds move so quickly, my aim is to just watch one of them until it flits away then attempt to draw the whole pose in one quick drawing.
A goldfinch at the feeder can be there for a minute but a blue tit can be in and out in less than a second. Sparrows usually settle for longer, which is helpful as each one has slightly different plumage, the males particularly: the face and ‘bib’ markings vary a lot.
Drawing whatever bird comes along for an hour or so is quite a session but if I could keep doing that I think it would improve my ability to observe.
Drawing from a photograph or a stuffed bird would be a good way to take in the smaller details but to get an impression of the life and individual character of a bird I need to stick with these flitting about garden birds.
Rosemary officinalis
The Sun claims dominion over it . . .
the dried leaves shred small, and smoked as tobacco, helps those that have any cough* . . .”Culpeper’s Herbal, Nicholas Culpeper, 1616 – 1654
*Please don’t try this at home!
This morning I bought an attractive 1983 Culpeper’s Colour Herbal from a charity bookstall but I’m sticking with my old version as it includes the full text, including the advice to smoke rosemary like tobacco if you have a cough!
It must be decades since I last opened this old Quality Street tin, stowed away in the attic.
No box lid and I don’t remember the subject – a joust perhaps – so we’re going to have to reconstruct this piece by piece . . . starting with the edges.
Why the punched hole in the centre of the tin lid? Did we keep string in the tin?
Writing Christmas cards is now often the only time of year when I settle into an extended session of writing with a fountain pen. Normally I alternate between pen and keyboard for blog posts or articles.
It takes a while until I settle into a rhythm. My shaky hands and the rather worn joints in my right thumb don’t help me feel at ease but, if I happen to get into the flow, for a while it can feel natural and comfortable.
The trouble is that I’m never sure how I managed to get myself into this flowing and relaxed mode of writing. That’s partly because, once I’ve got going, I’ve moved on from attempting to consciously control it. I’ve switched to a kind of muscle memory.
I stop worrying about wobbles and shakes and badly formed letters. I can even get to the stage where a capital ‘S’ doesn’t feel like too much of a challenge!
My training in graphic design has left me fascinated by fonts. I’m keen to observe every nuance of an individual letterform but that’s not going to help me get in the flow if I’m constantly changing gear to draw each letter as a separate entity.
For the past four or five months, Barbara and I have been regulars at a weekly Tai Chi session and we’ve both found that the relaxed attention that’s needed to follow the flowing moves has been helpful.
I see parallels between the practice of Tai Chi and the process of handwriting. Our teacher Pat is keen that we should get the moves right from the start, rather than fudging through and getting in the flow but potentially developing bad habits which might be difficult to correct later.
10.50 a.m., Carr Lodge Park, Horbury
“Is that a red kite?” I ask Barbara, because it doesn’t sound quite right to me.
“No, it’s a buzzard,” she suggests.
I scan around but I can’t see one circling.
We’re both wrong: a dozen starlings are gathering in the tree tops at the edge of the park. Amongst the usual soft starling chatter, one of the birds is, every now and then, giving a passable impression of the peevish mewing of a buzzard.
The low sun can’t cast shadows this morning as it shines through a veil of cloud. There’s no halo, caused by ice crystals in the upper atmosphere, so I’m guessing that these are alto stratus – mid-range stratus clouds. They’re at the leading edge of a warm front which this morning is sweeping in from the Atlantic across Ireland.
As I write this up later, just after sunset, the front has arrived and rain is lashing on my studio window.
Met Office as well as predicted forecasts, the Met Office website enables you to go back through the previous 24 hours to see maps of actual observations of rainfall, temperature, windspeed, cloud cover and lightning strikes.
Yorkshire colour swatches for a Dalesman article that I’m working on. Unfortunately it hasn’t been so colourful today.
The hill-top ruin is Sandal Castle where Richard of York gave battle in vain, resulting in the mnemonic for remembering the traditional colours of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
There’s some discussion about whether indigo should really be in there. It’s a useful colour in my larger watercolour box but I’m not sure whether I can really see it in a rainbow.
A bit of drama for a forthcoming Dalesman article.