Paying Ready Attention

The clocks changed weeks ago. But is it autumn yet? If I close my eyes its hard to tell. The warmth of summer holds on, dawdles into the end of April, seems to be making overtures to May. Like kids in the park just before tea, holding on as long as possible, trying to make the day last before baths and bed. Like teachers on summer holidays, trying to hold on to the calm of last week as the term begins, and calm is just a memory. The weather may resist procession, but the tilt of the Earth cannot be avoided and the world will turn. The Earth clock of day length will change, the evenings will draw in; the leaves will change colour and we will arrive in autumn and still wonder what happened to summer. I wrote the first two paragraphs of this a few days ago, and while the weather was still warm, but now the plants are voting with their leaves. Yes autumn is here. In the space of less than four days the pavements have gathered a covering of leaves, not deep yet, but sure enough. In a...

With the sounds of a family wedding still ringing in my late to bed ears I was awoken by my children. Their sun clock woke them early and they demanded attention, stories, consciousness. The alteration of the clocks means nothing to them - and a few hours later I was on my way to Perth. A long day loomed. I boarded the plane at just after 3 in the afternoon, flew for almost four hours and arrived two hours later. Such is the mystery of westward flight. You may read the time from your watch but your body tells you otherwise. In a different city, with my brain saying I should have been asleep hours ago, I struggled to stay awake. You can kid yourself along for only so long, in the end you have to give in to the siren song of sleep - a long day indeed. As we descended into Perth I was watching a tourist information video on the plane. Amongst other information it suggested that the seagulls (their words I assure you!) should not be fed, as they can become aggressive! In a country blessed ...

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking. I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. I must go down to the sea again ….. The pull of the sea and the beginning of Autumn go hand in hand. As the days shorten and evenings draw in, the coast becomes a place to be for its own sake - not just a ...