Iced Water

Firstly photos of the river frozen: Click on a photo to enlarge.

 A rare view of an ice laden river below the chateau.

River flooding is subsiding

The tracks support the wooden pedestrian bridge in summer. 

Forces of energy bend the tracks.

The leaves caught in the tree show how high the river flooded.

The Swollen River

On the night of Thursday 15th December the winds and rain of Storm Joachim caused the waters of the river to rise.

No sign of the weir!

The path from the bridge is under water.

By a hill top deviation the path could be accessed.

One can normally walk here though I think it is private.

The water on the path allowed access to another footpath going uphill.

Within two days the waters had subsided.

A new story begins of a second new life in France

September 2011 - the approach of Autumn

I can hear the water flowing deeper

in the rippling, rappling river,

amidst the shifting shafts of sunlight sparkling through the bending boughs.

I can feel the brisk, breeze blowing

in my face, hair tingling, tangling 

causing me to shake my head in laughter to see again the view.

I can hear the regular, rhythmic trudge

as I climb the rugged slope,

avoiding rocks and roots of trees for space where feet can be placed.

I can see the change of season

as the browns and greens transform

the track of the leafy, shady arbour where many have walked before.

I can crunch the sharp, black, juicy fruit

of blackberries untouched,

Fronds of fennel, oregano wild and sweet pink marjoram clutched.

I can knock the dark brown walnuts

out of their green protective case,

one stamp and wiggle out nutmeat, to eat as a tasty treat.

I can smell the warmth of history

as I pass the secret garden gate

of a tiny hidden house overhanging forbidden Magdalenian caves.

I can be the buzzard flying

gracefully, regally, high

above the earth-brown, autumn tilled field, eagle eyes searching for prey.

Praise the wind, the sun and earth

for all that it supplies

to give me hope and radiance -  a feast before my eyes.

I can tread these walks of a village I love,

choose a new path every day,

celebrate the gift of life, for tomorrow, we know not come what may.

This is this.

A gift for all my friends.