December 31st

we start in winter

dark days of gale, frosty breath

in watery sun

 

till the axis tips

into her majestic arms

and we are bathed in

 

her spring coat of green

the world bursts in bright colour

and a smile conquers

 

our hearts through summer

the moors alive with new birth

till the autumn fall

 

of gold leaf litter

the fungi bloat in shadow

the nourishing rain

 

and the coming cold

the flakes of new snow tumble

we end in winter

 

That’s it. All done. Thank you to all of you who have read my Haikus. Much love to you and your loved ones for 2013. xxx

October 2nd

 

the red rain of leaves

trees shed their summer colours

ready for the cold

September 30th

 

sweet bird song ventured

unsure from flagging branches

farewell till the thaw

Birds seem to be singing over the last few days. Unusual for this time of year, maybe they are migrating, saying goodbye. We’ll hear them again in the Spring.

September 23rd

 

Night circles the Day

shears the edges with winter

blades and rain soaked chill

I heard on the weather report that the day is now officially shorter than night, the autumn solstice has passed. Of course it’s an inevitability with the change in the seasons. But to hear it brought it home. The weather is gloomy and wet. I think I’ve had my last day of the year without needing a jacket. As they say in Game of Thrones, Winter is Coming.

September 11th

 

The last butterflies

have given up on summer

frayed silk on the wing

The butterfly numbers are dwindling, went for a run on the moors earlier, they look pretty much finished. They’ll lay their eggs and die.

August 28th

 

the light retreating

days curl up in pink sunsets

summer hibernates

a pic I took from our bedroom window

July 19th

 

the season’s passage

sun arcs feed the oak monarch

England’s wooden walls

Back in April, I wrote about the Oak visible from our back window. I can see it when I work, when the sun sets (and it isn’t raining!), it usually gets bathed in light and looks magnificent. It’s now totally green.

June 21st

 

take joy in the dawn

hold hands and watch the clouds drift

tell her you love her

Last night was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year of course. Often synonymous with eccentric hirsute druids performing rites at Stonehenge :)

From antiquity to the present it has been celebrated, as a high point of the year, but being the misery I am, I always feel sad at midsummer.

Why? The days are getting shorter now. The sun’s arc will diminish over the next two seasons, we’ll see less and less of her, till late December, when the Winter solstice will signal the time the days will get longer again. That time is of course associated with our modern Christmas, adopted from the pagan tradition. I’ve always loved Christmas, they were happy times as a kid. The excitement of getting one or two presents, which I would cherish. I feel sorry for modern kids, I’m not sure they feel the same wonderment of receiving a gift, don’t get the same emotional rush and the appreciation that someone has sacrificed and saved to buy you something (of course I hope they do). It’s not their fault of course, it’s just where our society’s path has taken us. Presents aren’t something special now, they’ve moved into a consumable space.

After Christmas, there is the let down and harsh months of January and February, a penance for the excitement of the festive time. And March, when the birds return, the flowers blossom and the trees deck themselves in green. It’s also my birthday in March. And that’s when my dormant happiness stirs again.

Amongst other things, I thought of Nick Drake today. And his beautiful song From the Morning. What lovely lyrics. Sad and Happy. Loss and Life. Wonder and Reflection. It says so much to me at the moment.

 

From the Morning (Nick Drake)

A day once dawned, and it was beautiful
A day once dawned from the ground
Then the night she fell
And the air was beautiful
The night she fell all around.
So look see the days
The endless coloured ways
And go play the game that you learnt
From the morning.
And now we rise
We are everywhere
And now we rise from the ground
See she flies
And she is everywhere
See she flies all around
So look see the sights
The endless summer nights
And go play the game that you learnt
From the morning

May 16th

 

Far from home I long

for a familiar face

and she obliges

Stuck in Warrington for work. Nice sunset from my hotel room window. I took a pic. And below the pic is a beautiful song by Jon Redfern, called “I love the sun”. Deeply melancholy, to me it talks of passing seasons and lost loved ones, how the sun can revive you in times of sadness and reflection. Much lovelier words than my Haiku.

“I love the sun, I love the sun
It shines down on everyone
I count the days, I count the days
Winter comes and daylight fades
Where are you now, where are you now
Friends I've seen go to the clouds”

April 22nd

Gaze turns to the oak

eater of storms and vivid

in the solar glare

 

The oak tree visible from our back window is impressive, that distinctive shape, the arc of branches, that sturdy trunk, unyielding. It’s anytime going to be sprouting green, at the moment it still hints at winter, with it’s barren appearance. It does not detract from how magnificent it looks. Especially when the sun bathes it in light and the clouds behind it are black and threatening. Only an oak can hold it’s own when the weather makes war with itself.

Here is a pic of it I took earlier this evening.

March 31st

Winter blows a kiss

A stony chill descending

Grey squirrel grey sky

March 20th

Resplendent cherry

Transient beauty breathing

Blossom pink and white

 

Flowering cherry trees at this time of year are just stunning, the fact they flower in such a small window of time is one of the joys and sadnesses of the season. It’s a bit of a Haiku cliche to mention cherry blossom, I think of a shinto priest scribing as the blossom falls down onto his bald pate. A tear falls on his parchment….. yeah, all cliche’d, but sod it. I don’t care! It *is* beautiful :)

A photo I took from down the lane.

March 11th

 

Queen bee emerges,

Crawls from the sombre litter,

Leaps into sunlight.

 

Saw a bumblebee (again) today. Second one of the year! It was up on the ridge at the top of Pegsdon Hills. Was almost certainly a Queen considering the time of year. Unlike honey bees, the poor bumbles only live a few months, the Queens just one year. They form relatively tiny colonies, compared to the thousands in the honeybee hive (who hibernate over winter). Before the old Queen died in the Autumn, she laid some regal eggs, these bumblebee Queens flew away after being fertilised by a male, finding safe warm havens to survive the winter. In spring, they emerge, looking for a spot to create their colony, to being the process again.

I wish her luck! With her bizarrely impossible aerodynamics!

March 3rd

 

The art of seeing,

Shy colours revealed in light,

Patience rewarded.

 

Watched a BBC documentary about David Hockney, who is currently exhibiting some recent work of his native Yorkshire in the Royal Academy, entitled “A Bigger Picture”. He talked about the depth of colour in seemingly mundane scenes, somewhere which many would consider ordinary, not worthy of a second look.

All you have to do wait. And look. And that’s where the colours reveal themselves to you. He paints the same scenes throughout the seasons, in different weather and different light. Also at different times of day. The results are wonderful. I’m trying to do this myself too now (the “seeing” bit, not the painting bit!). We end up rushing everywhere, just a few minutes to take your breath and look and watch is so rewarding.

 

Hockney standing in front of one of his huge canvasses (actually 36 canvasses joined together!). Can’t wait to go later this month. Pic from the Telegraph website.