Exactly what species this is, no idea, but this little creature becomes the first specimen of the family Pleurodelinae — the newts — to appear on the blog. Sister Vicki was quite concerned that a heron had been munching on the inhabitants of her garden pond, but this one, at least, is OK so far.
To me it looks like the goose is paddling through paint, a Jackson Pollock-style approach to imposing its artistic views on the world, or at least, this part of the Hebden Water, below the line of shops and apartments on Valley Road. Maybe the bird itself could be a bit more prominent — although its not as if Canada geese are bright red, is it — or I might have zoomed in more, but never mind.
In evolutionary terms ferns are much older than grasses, I believe. There is something primordial about them, a beauty to them as they uncurl, though also something disquieting too. I can quite picture one of these as the model for the creature that bursts out of Kane’s stomach in Alien, though of course that was the genius of H R Giger, who designed it, all based around these natural forms.
This beetle was very purposeful, and it’s a shame that there was no pot of gold (beetle equivalent) at the end of the table outside the pub, but I did help it down to the floor at that point. A test of the micro-focus on the camera, anyway, and its quite precise: the body is pretty much there, but the antennae, they are just that little bit blurred.
Too nice a day to spend it inside whether that was home, the pub or on a train somewhere. And I needed the exercise, hence my walking north from home over the moors to Oxenhope — where, OK, I might have visited a pub, but only after walking 7½ miles to get there. For a chunk of this journey I was being closely watched by various specimens of Ovis aries, both mature and young — the lambs are definitely out.
More flowers. Then again, it is spring: a sunny, but chilly day today. If this is taken to represent my spending time today frolicking in the countryside, it shouldn’t be — teaching has restarted and I spent the whole day on campus. These bluebells sprout outside the entrance to the Chemistry building, in which, most of the semester, I have had the late afternoon slot in theatre G54.
As anyone with a lawn, or responsibilities for some other kind of open grassy space, knows, it’s dandelion season. Soon these will sprout their seeds and fill the air with them, and later on, there will be a bunch more dandelions. That’s nature for you, I guess.
“You can’t see me. I’m not really here.” Well, the black is a kind of anti-camouflage when put against the bright colours of spring and all that. Anyway Hebden has a great many jackdaws and wherever you look there’s a good chance of seeing at least one.
After a run of travelling, today marks the start of a period to be spent mostly at home, and ended where many Fridays do, namely the pub. There I noticed that the old logs used, now and again, as bar stools have a rather encrusted look about them which was a worthy subject for illustration. In fact there are a number of regulars of the Railway who affect this kind of thing, with me probably among them, these days.
Typical behaviour for the British climate — balmy weather on Saturday, revolting wintry crap the following Wednesday. I have to wipe off a layer of hail each time I come inside today. The blossoms bear it stoically.
Being 42 