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Whispers on water - a photo journal of our life on the 'cut' dedicated to keeping family and friends informed of our whereabouts.
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Helping to keep our waterways litter-free: www.litteraction.org.uk/narrowboat-wilvir
Drought, pollution and illegal fishing all threaten our waterways. Spotted something that looks wrong? See it, say it, save it. Call the Environment Agency (EA) Incident Hotline: 0800 80 70
4th Jul 2014, 20:11
24th Jun 2014, 16:39
Recent weeks has seen wilvir bathed in the growing warmth of summer sunlight, and nights bathed in the cool beauty of moonlight.
As the weather settles down, the beginnings of Summer display a whole host of new life as nature takes its course and the windows of my world are filled with the sights and sounds reminding me of summers past, evoking memories of childhood adventures that live within me even today.
The start of the course fishing season in mid June still brings the excitement of expectation, of days spent fishing unencumbered, and the probability of rain receding as every day passes.
New life is beginning at every moment, bringing an abundance of change. Those that work the land can breath again with the prospect of the right weather ahead leading to a good harvest and fat livestock. The raucous behaviour of our wildfowl population, especially duck and wood pigeon, is testament to the old adage of 'making hay as the sun shines' so to speak.
Our home drifts along on the thrust from a propeller driven by an engine hardly ever running above tick-over, offering little disturbance or distraction to anyone or anything who we come upon or that cares to take an interest in us.
Passers-by, hire-crew or gongoozler, stop to pass the time of day, intrigued by our way of life. Locks with room-for-two offer an opportunity for banter and often the chance to make new friends. The offer of a penny-farthing tour of wilvir to anyone interested in living the way we do is often the beginnings of an idea to retire or, as we did, give up work to live an alternative lifestyle.
Finding a place out in the sticks is always our preferred mooring location, undisturbed and non-disturbing. The chance to explore rural villages, footpaths and towpaths is reward enough to anyone who, like me, can't be doing with the pace of life that is often heard as friction, mostly between tyre and tarmac. The chance of a good pint of real ale is usually on the cards too, but only as long as my friend Gunner is welcome to sit with me.
Everyday is an adventure, life is an adventure, love is an adventure, each and every one of our stories is an adventure. Just be sure of a dream and make that an adventure too.
24th Jun 2014, 16:15
2. Proper parenting.
4. Learning the ropes.
5. Out in the sticks.
6. Staying put for a couple of days.
7. Hawthorn at its best.
8. Just the other day.
Rain is ever present as June arrives in the seasonal calendar. The ground is heavy with moisture and the air heady with the scent of old and new blossom. Marginal flag iris try to stand tall amongst the reeds as the rain soaks their bright yellow flowers, causing them to bow and dull from the onslaught.
Signets appear below the galley window, Pen and Cob proudly protecting their offspring, encouraging them to knock for their supper. Geese and ducks too wait in line, sure they won't be ignored by the generosity of the hand at the hatch.
The landscape is nature's palette, every verdant shade of green on show, enticing me to go off-piste, to explore and seek out a long abandoned pond here and a cutting there, confident my wellington boots capable of keeping me dry, until, surrounded by thigh high grass, and nettles, I emerge soaked from belt to knees and socks now beginning to take on the roll of blotting paper. Gunner shakes himself dry by my side, looking pleased with having 'put-up' a cock pheasant just moments earlier, it narrowly missing my head as it aimlessly took flight in the general direction of safety. Gunner enticing it to ever more frantic flight as it struggled to get airborne.
The afternoon sky hangs leaden overhead, one solid grey cloud. Birds display little enthusiasm for singing, the sound of rain dampening their spirit, and lambs huddle together for warmth and shelter in open fields.
The wind grows bolder in its attempt to fill the pressure void, everything bending before it to let it pass, the trees alive with the sound of it.
I love all aspects of weather, it's part of what we were, what we are and what we become. Few realise the influence it has over them and ignore the true benefits it brings. Just go out and embrace it. It will change your outlook on life.
5th Jun 2014, 12:14
19th May 2014, 13:57
A Blackbird sings betwixt night and day,
Then Blue Tit and Robin have their say.
Dunnock, Fieldfare, Magpie, Thrush,
Follow suit to break the hush.
A Jackdaw, Sparrow and Starling keen,
Make themselves known, to be seen.
A Carrion Crow joins the throng,
Much too late to spoil the song.
For those who wake to watch the dawn,
Or lie awhile to stretch the morn.
Just listen for the feathered choir,
Spirits lifted as the sky catches fire.
6th May 2014, 13:07
The ground is heavy with dew this morning and the scent of hawthorn blossom permeates the air as the sun carries the aroma skywards on unseen thermals. In wooded glades the pungent odour of wild garlic onion pervades the senses, tempting me to graze on the flowers as I pass by.
Nature waits for no man as it adapts to the longer days afforded us by the Sun as we move to the warmer seasons. In my world, boats that once demonstrated our inventiveness lie abandoned, left to succumb to decay, hidden to the less enquiring eye by swathes of reeds as they rest, almost submerged, in the silt of too long ignored and redundant lock chambers. Hulks, dating back to as early as 1772, lie quiet, as if waiting for their masters to come and rescue them; sadly no one will.
Iron and steel work dating back to 1874 still protects and provides the means to operate locks that help tame the urgency of water seeking to find a sea level estuary. Long disused spring-fed drinking troughs watered horses hard at work on the towpath, rope worn stone testament to the loads they hauled up a river that, for its most part has long been a gently flowing canal navigation.
Long abandoned stone wharves, overgrown with bramble and tree roots, seem to draw my eye in the hope that I might tie up against their iron bollards still proudly displaying a now forlorn sense of purpose. I would gladly do so if were not for the jungle that greets any attempt to try. Heritage is fast losing importance; to ignore the march of time upon it leaves pockets of history to go unnoticed, as if everything happening today began this morning.
Speed, distance and time governs all life and I live happily with a knowledge and understanding of these measures keeping me grounded and in tune with my cycle of life, accompanied by a little owl who shares it with me as I continue my lifes adventure.
Every footstep I take on my walk through life brings me a new experience of times past, distance travelled and the speed of change since. My senses tell me the story of those journeys. The future is an adventure, its story yet to unfold. I relish that.
2nd May 2014, 13:39
1. The sky darkens in preparation.
2. The rainbow touches down.
3. The rain cloud breaks.
4. The sky clears.
This evening I was touched by what I can only describe as a truly once in a lifetime experience and one that I will remember for as long as I live.
Rain had been falling on and off during the late part of the afternoon and had finally moved on to leave the sun low in a bright blue sky and the chance to take Gunner for his last walk of the day.
The riverside meadow grass seemed to move in time with the gentle breeze that had sprung up as I enjoyed the richness of new colour that spring had brought to the landscape. In the far distance the horizon turned charcoal grey as more clouds, heavy with rain, loitered with intent.
After an hour I turned for home, the sky behind me now dark and laden with the certainty of rain. A wind suddenly tapped me on the shoulder and tried to push me aside as the approaching squall let itself be known. It was then I looked back and saw a rainbow arched across the sky thick with nature's palette of paints and perfect from end to end.
Unusually this rainbow appeared to be closing in, moving with the rain that was now approaching fast. Then the wind died and I became fearful for a moment as this phenomenon of nature hovered, shimmering all about me. I was in the end of a Rainbow. Something I had never dreamt possible, but here I was. Fear instantly gave way to wonder as I stood amongst clearly discernible colours, changing one to another against the backdrop of trees clearly visible through this transparency of colour.
My emotions were all over the place as I stood there with Gunner by my side. He seemed to sense a change in the atmosphere and sat with his head cocked to one side, curious. We were both soaked. It was as if the rain hung in the air like a see-through projectionists curtain as the colours faded and, suddenly, were gone. The rain now came in big splattering drops as the wind picked up, spreading the rain cloud across the sky until it was no more and the sun drew long shadows on the grass, posed by the surrounding trees.
I walked on stunned and excited by what I'd experienced, Gunner spinning in circles, excited too. I realised I was choked by something I couldn't fathom out and understood more the power of reverence for the natural world, like the ancient civilisations that were shaped by it and worshipped a star that still hangs bright in our sky today.
I have been touched by that reverence this evening!?
27th Apr 2014, 12:15