What’s happening in our neck of the woods and in other necks not so woody
Wordsworth began his finest poem, Tintern Abbey, in the ruin’s vicinity, and then refined it over two or more days prior to writing a fair copy on July 13th 1789, as he approached Bristol. He had walked across Salisbury plain west to the Wye Valley, hardly eating for three days, which can disorientate and be soporific. There is such a thing as the physiology of the poetic.
We easily forget that insects are essential to agriculture, ecosystems and healthy biodiversity.
Almost 4,000 people are killed on the world’s roads every day . . .
Blue Bottles are a colony made up of a variety of specialised polyps.
Picasso: All art is theft.
And it’s not just their visual beauty . . . the dawn chorus is awesome at this time of the year and probably good for you . .
Alexander Nehamas is frustrated by ‘the failure’ of our imagination: ‘We don’t realize that most everything is contingent, that things could be different.’
Eos wants to rewild my mind . . .
Where we live – three walks ~ poems and photographs Wednesday Oct 4 The wood’s exhalation is palpable after two days of rain, after 4 months of dry, black bars slant shadow across the aqueous air. Above our heads a Golden Whistler sings from a rickety branch, his whole body vibrating urgently responding to a […]