February 28th

Blackbirds duel at dusk,

Songs soaked in battleship grey,

Echoes bounce off steel.

 

Most of my Haikus seem to be about birds. That’s because birds are awesome. Tonight, I left work around 6.30, it was pretty much dark. The car park was quiet apart from two blackbirds having a sing off. I could see one of them quite clearly, taking the high point in the photo above. The little spot on top of the tower.

The complexity of a blackbird song is impressive, trills and tuneful whistles, no two compositions the same. One would start, then the other would reply. It was loud. This is the the time of year when territory is all important. Spring is pretty much here. Time to find a mate and nest. The two combatants were fighting it out for the large but spartan landscape of our work car park in Stevenage. For what little foliage there is.

February 27th

Toying paws a blur,
Animated killer stalks,
Mouse rescue required.

This story has a happy ending, Debbie rescued the mouse that Katie caught and brought in to play with, it got released back into the paddock behind our garden. Katie always looks so pissed off when we take live (or dead) animals off her. She used to bring them as presents, but seeing that we didn’t eat them or thank her for them, she just ignores us now and concentrates solely on her own self gratification.

February 26th

 

Blade thin herons wait,

Secreted in the reed beds,

Striking at silver.

 

On the way back from Arsenal smashing Spurs 5-2, I sat on the train looking out of the window as I often do. Between Harpenden and Luton Airport Parkway station, the train passes over what looks like an old English country scene, apart from any built up area. With a hamlet and millhouse alongside a meandering lazy river, even lazier tributaries feeding it. It was in one of these tributaries I saw two herons, standing still, amongst the reeds. I like Herons, there’s something fragile and elegant about them. And that beak built for fishing makes them look slightly prehistoric.

(Grey heron pic from RSPB website)

February 25th

Shadows tumble down,

Rabbits wait, flat in their scrapes,

Between the hawthorns.

My second visit of the year to Pegsdon Hills. Saw a flock of long tailed tits, a bullish wren shouting at me to get out of its territory, a robin, chaffinches, blue tits, great tits, a skylark singing high in the sky. And most excitingly a pair of Red Kites circling and crying their sad mewing call as well as a pair of buzzards too. Up high on the ridge these big birds of prey swooped and soared both above and below my sightline, scanning the ground for tasty prey.

February 24th

 

Old twisted peat cart,

I followed your buried tracks,

As you sink and rust.

 

In the moors there is an old discarded peat cart, when I first lived in the area it actually looked like a peat cart, but over the years it has slowly deteriorated and sunk into the peat it used to carry to the edge of the moor, where it would be unloaded. I wanted to capture a sense of melancholy about it, everything returns to the earth at some point.

I don’t know how old the cart is, but peat extraction was still an industry in the area until the 1960s. The location of the peat cart is in one of the wettest areas of Flitwick moor. It’s quite hard to see in this photo, but I wanted show how wet the area is. There are a lot of silver birches in the moors as well, as can be seen by the tree on the left.

A closer view of the peat cart.

And finally a photo of this part of the moor, with another silver birch, it is exceptionally peaty and wet here in winter, so when I’m running, I have to walk through, making sure to not roll my ankle or lose half my leg in a mucky peat puddle! Anyway, it was a beautiful day today, the woods and moors were full of bird song. Their battle to establish territory has begun.

February 23rd

Baby wolf strides,

Into neon, legs aloft,

Tasting the warm air.

 

This little fella (or lady) waltzed out from behind the television. I’d never seen a wolf spider so little before. They are usually the size of rats, bounding across the room and chasing the cat. They are feisty little buggers. This one was no exception, no shame, just sat there and posed as I took a photo. For the record, wolf spiders are beautiful. (Ps – it looks massive, but it was only the size of a small fingernail!)

February 22nd

 

Near dark, Hand held tight,

The restless shadow crawling,

Praying for morning.

 

I watched an old favourite horror film of mine “Near Dark”. Didn’t get to bed till after 1am last night (this morning). It’s a road move and a vampire movie, Lance Henriksen is in it and with that timeless lined face, you really do believe he fought in the American Civil war. I say ‘watched’ because the volume was switched off. I was listening to Sinoia Caves at the same time, it gave the film a weird soundtrack. And even without dialogue, it worked. Freaked me out a bit.

A track from Sinoia Caves album The Enchanter Persuaded.

Near dark has fantastic imagery, it was a ground breaking vampire film, took them out of castles, they’d adapted, they lived amongst us, they drove cars. They sucked us in with their confidence tricks. They were drifters. And of course they killed us. Some of the imagery is captured in this video. The actual score for the film was written by Tangerine Dream which gives it a cold electronic edge too. Although a bit dated now, it’s still a great film and groundbreaking in the “vampires in the modern era” genre.

And if you like Sinoia Caves and horror films, then this film sounds like it will be a paranoid psychedelic nightmare. Beyond the Black Rainbow. It’s set in 1983 and Sinoia Caves (Jeremy Schmidt working under an alias, who is the Keyboard Player of Black Mountain) have written the soundtrack. The trailer gives you more questions than answers. Unsettling. And it’s full of the vintage sound of old analogue keyboards. Moogs and Mellotrons aplenty.

Finally, I wrote. I’ve started a blackly comedic (well I think it’s funny) short story in the “Paranormal Romance” genre. The music by Sinoia Caves and the visuals from Near Dark helped it along. I’ve nearly finished the first draft too!

Who says dudes can’t multi-task?

February 21st

Silver birch broken,

Lonely stump above the moor,

You still look alive.

 

I went for a run earlier, Spring is definitely in the air! The air was clean, the sun was shining. My eyes were caught by something pale and silvery, standing up alone in a cleared part of the moor. As I wasn’t wearing my glasses, momentarily I wondered if I was looking at a dog, like a dalmation, with the sunlight reflected off its fur. But it was the stump of a cut down silver birch. Its trunk still looked lustrous and beautiful and it sat sad in the middle of the clearing.

February 20th

The facile wingbeat,

Turn, Arc, Ascent to heaven,

Prince over woodland.

 

On Sunday I walked to the station, the image of the big buzzard, hanging powerful in the sky made an impression.

(image from RSPB website)

February 19th

 

Incense smoke curling,

Pale saints, drained of ochre tears,

Lament for the dead.

 

An old “Aunty” died around this time last year, it’s traditional for the family to welcome family and friends after church for coffee and snacks in memory of the deceased. The priest reads out a list of memorials and the family hand out bread which has been blessed. This meant a visit to church. Greek Orthodox churches have an ancient ceremony about them, although the Church has tried to be progressive in some ways, the service has on the whole remained the same for centuries.

I’m not religious, but I find the trappings of the church fascinating, I looked at the images painted on the walls, in pastel pale tones. The saints with their radiant halos, lovingly removing the dead Christ from the cross and gently cradling him down the ladder. The huge hanging candelabras, images of the two headed eagle glittering with the reflected candlelight, each candle a memory of a dead loved one. Also the sounds and smells, frankincense is burned in the Priests censer, a throwback to Roman times, the heady smell hanging as the priest swings it when he and his entourage tour the church to bless the congregation, a little puff of smoke accompanied by the cymbal like jingle of the censers various parts and tiny bells hitting each other. It’s fascinating. The old men chanting as well, it feels ancient. There aren’t so many hunched bird like old widows anymore, with their black head scarves tied tightly round their heads. They seemed to be everywhere when I was dragged to church when I was little. Times change.

(image from monasteryiconsblog)

February 18th

 

Hummingbird darting,

Skims page, Bronze, red cloak flower,

Nectar, Earth, Water.

 

I was writing a blog about one of my favourite books earlier today, Persian Fire. I read it when we were on our honeymoon in St Lucia. Reading about ancient battle whilst sitting watching the hummingbirds flitting about is a beautiful memory.

Today it was hammering it down with rain. February is always the saddest month for me, where winter arcs, where the cold is worst. But March is coming. That means Spring.

February 17th

 

An ode to my bed,

My favourite furniture,

Good for sleeping in.

 

I love my bed. Blackout curtains drawn. I’m going to have a lovely lie in tomorrow. That is all.

February 16th

 

Fairy lights, mild nights,

Churches and public houses,

Wedged up together.

 

Clerkenwell is a quirky part of London with a proud history. It seems to have its own sense of community. Great pubs and restaurants too. And Exmouth Market is one of the most fun little rows in London.

February 15th

 

The landlords daughter,

Siren song, pray, deny her,

Willing fool ablaze.

 

I read a news story today that the Hotel / Bar where many scenes of the Wicker Man were filmed is up for sale (the original version from 1973, not the abomination “starring” Nicholas Cage). For only £200k you can own a piece of classic British horror film history, the Ellangowan Hotel in Creetown, Dumfries and Galloway.

Where Britt Ekland tried to entice Christian copper Edward Woodward into her bed with her sexy pagan incantation and dance. And where the bawdy bar scenes were filmed.

What a film, not gory, just incredibly unsettling. Proper psychological horror. The ending fills me with dread every time. If you haven’t seen it… you should! It’s probably my favourite film ever.

The beautiful Britt Ekland, temptress in the film.

The increasingly marginalised and bewildered Edward Woodward, the Christian policeman sent to investigate the disappearance of a child on the remote Scottish Island of Summerisle.

Lord Summerisle, played by Christopher Lee in the frightening final scenes of the film. The impassive and faceless Wicker Man looms menacingly in the background.

February 14th

Keen eyed, Fan tailed, Hunts,

Wind tamed above the hedgerows,

Flutters, wings and heart.

 

I made and wrote this for Debbie today. I even did colouring in like a big boy! (see below). I went for a run earlier on and saw a Kestrel, maintaining its position in the sky, using it’s tail and rapid wing beats to expertly adjust for wind buffeting. I ran right underneath it, it eventually soared off to another field edge, once again scanning the ground for movement and a meal.

I’m quite proud of the drawing, as it actually looks a little bit like a Kestrel and not some sort of plucked mini-vulture after a recent flame throwing incident.

You don’t have to be good at art (or writing!). Sometimes it’s the little things on Valentines day.

February 13th

Boulder dragged uphill,

Granite legs thump, relentless,

Misery drizzle.

 

I hate running when I’m unfit and out of shape, but you’ve got to start somewhere after being inactive for so long. At least I could listen to the new Mark Lanegan album whilst I did it.

February 12th

Paw twitch, blissful smile,

Hot sun, splayed in meadow grass,

Birdsong, Katie dreams.

 

While I was writing my other blog on Art by Animals, our cat Katie was in the room, asleep on her (current) favourite chair (she rules the roost, she changes her favourite place periodically whilst simultaneously dislodging any human from that place).

Although Katie and cats in general sleep around twenty hours a day, I rarely see her go into a deep sleep. She only does this when she feels safe enough to do so, often just opting for the “foxes doze”, one eye ready to open. Not that she’s got any reason to feel unsafe, but as she has a catflap, she’s always aware that an intruder may come in and she’ll have to shoo them off if we’re not around.

So anyway, whilst I was writing, she was dreaming, the corners of her mouth curled up in a little smile* and her paw was twitching, no doubt a lovely dream about her youth, stalking and catching birds. She’s got a happy life bless her. Cats and especially Katie are wonderful companions. And I don’t care if you compare me to the Cat-Lady in the Simpsons.

*I know cats can smile. Look! She’s smiling in her sleep!

February 11th

Ice miracle, dawn,

Splintered light, diamonds scattered,

Mist cowled serpent coiled.

 

I drove to Hertford this morning, was babysitting for my two young nephews. The sights along the way were breathtaking. Because it had been so cold and dry overnight (the air temperature was –12C when I was driving around 9am) it meant a rare phenomenon occurred. A hoarfrost. Where the moisture in the air freezes on trees and plantlife, leaving it looking like something out of Narnia. Completely white and glittering like jewels. It truly felt like a magical kingdom I had no right to witness. I’d woken up to a new world.

Pegsdon Hills looked magnificent and beautiful. I imagined an old ice serpent, an ancient dragon, stirred from a long slumber, who in its waking had frozen the land hard but left it staggeringly beautiful in its harshness.

I didn’t have my camera, I would have stopped and snapped at the sky, at the rolling mist, at the crazy light refracting through the ice everywhere so you couldn’t tell where the sun was in the sky. It was magical, some days make you truly appreciate being alive.

February 10th

 

Cold paddock pickings,

Silly birds come get some treats,

Nuts and seeds to eat.

 

Why aren’t they coming to my window bird feeder?

February 9th

Well, what a treat (?!), two Haikus today. I popped into the Grant Museum of Zoology after work. There’s an interesting exhibition on animals creating art, I’ll  post about that on my main blog.

But the Haikus today are about two things:

- Some primate skeletons watching the visitors from their high vantage point in the gallery, skeletal CCTV (old Charles Darwin lived on Gower Street).

- And a model of an elephants heart, on average these are an incredible 20 - 30kg’s in weight.

 

Grinning gallery,

Guests of the clergyman’s son,

Old bleached relatives,

Dust kicked, wise eyes weep,

Beneath grey furrows, her hide,

Blood pulses. Slow. Deep.

February 8th

 

Talon scored sandstone,

Dive point, inkblots unfurl, joy,

Slow ascent, again.

 

I’ve been in Wakefield for a couple of days, it was fairly miserable. Lots of stressed people getting ready for a go live, including me. Long days in the office. But I did get a good view of Wakefield Cathedral from the seventh floor. Crows were diving out into the air, then soaring back up to their perches around the steeple to repeat the process.

February 7th

 

Break the tender peel,

Let the sleeping death seep through,

Enigma silent.

 

Hopefully Alan Turing will get his pardon this year, the 100th anniversary of his death. A war hero, genius mathematician and the father of modern computing he suffered the indignity of a chemical castration after admitting to sexual relations with another man. A tragedy and a disgrace by today’s standards but sadly illegal in his time. 

His favourite film was Disney’s Snow White, he used to quote lines from it. I’ve adapted a couple of them in today’s Haiku. He took his own life by taking a bite from a poisoned apple.

Pic from Bletchley Park website.

February 6th

 

Cautious movements, light,

Dim then bright, swirling, obscured,

Breaking through the mist.

 

I don’t like driving when the weather is awful. The possibility of ice on the roads combined with a thick mist in the dark. Stresses me out.

February 5th

Underworld thoughts pulse,

Synapse rivulets, ice splits,

Hephaestus forges.

 

We went for a walk in the snow earlier, back through the moors, to the pond too. There were some amazing designs in the surface of the pond, where the ice had started melting. It looked like something below the earth had shuddered, creating these synapse like splits in the ice. Way below in the underworld, Hephaestus was working I think. Making presents for Aphrodite. Poor Hephaestus. As an extra treat, here’s an additional poem that just jumped out of my original narrative to support the Haiku.

It was weird that on the first snowy day of the year I thought of the blacksmith of the gods and his furnace. Check the pic below too.

 

Hephaestus

There’s something under the water,

Under the earth,

He’s making, forging,

His hammer burning,

His arm, soot stained, pained,

Giant hands mould metal,

Precious stones,

Armlets, crowns, rings,

Beautiful gifts for his love,

Spurned,

Aphrodite laughs,

He drags his lame leg,

Furnace burned,

Heavy brows, focused,

Thick neck sweating,

Tries again.

©Mel Melis 5-Feb-2012

February 4th

 

Shadow slips between,

The callow long limbed alders,

Harp strings, ice murmurs.

 

The cold ripped the breath from my throat this morning. Although the sun was shining, it was minus 7C when I headed off to walk to the station around 8.30am. As I knew the moors would be frozen I took the scenic route. I’m glad I did. I walked past the big bunch of alder trees and took the photo below.

There’s something serene about a sunny and freezing winters morning, but only if you’re wrapped up warm enough to appreciate it!

February 3rd

 

Disembodied head,

Eyes tight shut, I know he’s there,

Waiting by my bed.

 

There was a book club at my junior school. It was a special treat getting a book. Books were luxuries, I had the library of course, but I didn’t have many books of my own, which is why I cherished those I owned, comics (I got one a week) or otherwise. So I was absolutely delighted when I got one of the Usborne Pocketbooks, Supernatural guides. It was the “Haunted Houses, Ghosts and Spectres” one.

The artwork still has quite an impact for me, it smacks me in the chest with that thrill of fear I used to feel as an 8 year old. I used to be scared of the dark, one particular image stuck with me. It was of a blue disembodied head which haunted someone in an old country house. I used to hide under the covers (a classic ward against evil) terrified to peek, eyes shut fast, thinking if I opened my eyes and looked upwards, he would be there, looking down on me, silent, judgemental, evil, his mouth slowly opening and closing with no sound coming out. My imagination was rampant. I felt if I looked at him, he would literally scare me to death, by floating towards my face, till he was only inches away from me and then enter my face and possess me. I was that scared. Interestingly, the artist must’ve used an image of old horror actor Lon Chaney Jr to base his work on, when he played the phantom of the opera. Years later I saw the image of the Phantom and instantly thought “that’s my ghost!”, I’d forgotten about the book by then. So I went back to my old bedroom at my mums house then and retrieved it.

I still have the book, I’ll never throw it away. It’s beautiful, the artwork is amazing, it makes me feel happy and sad. Sometimes it’s nice to feel like you’re little again. South Harringay infants and junior school, aged 5 to 10 were wonderful times. I was so happy there.

February 2nd

 

Dictionary cat,

Sleeping sound as the quill scrawls,

Content, oyster full.

 

Was working in London today, in the City. Popped out for lunch and saw the statue of Dr Johnson’s cat Hodge, outside the good Doctor’s house. “A very fine cat indeed”.

I don’t know whether the scarf was put on him by a concerned passer by, or whether it is a permanent fixture. I have to say it was mercilessly cold today, under zero, even though it was sunny. So I’m sure old Hodge appreciated it.

There were a couple of other quotes by Johnson on the inscription below the statue.

“Sir, when a man is tired of London he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.” And “The chief glory of every people arises from its authors.”

Well said Sir!

February 1st

 

Five snipers huddled,

In the arms of the old oak,

Crystalline in frost.

 

Looked out of our back window today and saw a Hitchcock like scene. Five magpies had settled together in the old oak tree opposite. They were freezing poor things, trying to conserve energy, unmoving, which gave them an air of hatching some sinister plot.

Five for silver though right? Lottery ticket time :)