A winter’s afternoon: ‘It was as cold and crisp as an ice cream with . . . um . . a crispy coating. The Moon rose like a pizza splodged with mozzarella . . .’
Okay, I’ll have to face it, after a harrowing day, a short walk over Horbury Bridge to the post office isn’t going to give me the material I need for my ongoing nature diary.
For once there are no birds on either the canal or the river . . . but what’s that bicycle doing down there on the strandline?
There was an early feminist proverb: ‘A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.’ Perhaps this one has been abandoned by a large Sea Trout (see http://wildyorkshire.blog/2011/01/salmon-or-sea-trout/ ) trying to make its way upstream.
A flock of a dozen or more Jackdaws flies over as the Sun sets and the fleecy clouds over the wood are tinted coral red like flamingos.
More lights in the wood this evening; bright blue starbursts threading through the trees. A police search?
No, it’s a group of lads (or possibly fish, I can’t actually see them in the darkness) are cycling around the quarry area.
The rear lights are equally clear: ‘Blue as they approach, red as they recede,’ – like the spectra of stars moving around our galaxy – as Alan Garner described motorway traffic in his novel Red Shift.
Great writer Garner; he’d never have come up with ‘The Moon rose like a pizza.’