A Totally Worthwhile Risk - 1

JOURNAL ENTRY

26^th March, Wednesday

“The ash are heavy with bud
Blistered garnet, raspberry-
Shaped jewels
That glow warmly in
The low sunshine
That picks out the
Slow contours of the fields
In barley light.”

[MUSIC]

WELCOME

A perfect, warm early spring evening is sliding into night. A dampness in the air adds just a shiver of chill to the almost still air. Clouds too are slowly beginning to gather, although, at the moment the sky, blind of the moon, glitters with the swirl of constellations. 

This is the narrowboat Erica narrowcasting into the darkness of a late March night to you wherever you are. 

You've made it! Thank you for coming. It's almost too warm for a stove, but it softly glows in the corner, warm against the growing chill of the night. And the kettle is singing and the biscuit barrel is full. So come inside and welcome aboard.   

[MUSIC]

NEWS FROM THE MOORINGS  

March has been continuing to live up to Miles Hadfield’s ‘hasty panorama of seasons!’ Days swing in quick succession from honeyed early summer warmth to chill winds and drizzle to sharp frosts, to damp mizzling mists. This propensity sometimes even being evident in one day, I go to work bundled in coat and gloves, scraping ice from the windows and come home in shirt sleeves. Such are the glories of March.

According to the calendar of Japanese micro seasons – those poetically tiny incremental steps through the year, 5 days at a time - we are entering into ‘First Cherry Blossoms.’ Here plum, the precursor in blossom displays, is nearly over. Although, mornings and evenings remain heady with the perfume of a nearby damson tree.

The next season, that spans the end of March and the beginning of April is ‘Distant Thunder.’ Again, its surprisingly apt. Last weekend we had a terrific night-time thunderstorm, with incredible flares of lightning and pounding rain that was so heavy the runnels along the cabin rood overflowed. Maggie, who normally, isn’t too worried by thunderstorms, was distinctly nervous. So we all crawled onto the bed together, with her head tucked between us and listened to the rain drum and rattle down the boat. It was wonderful.   

I was put in mind of the Japanese micro seasons by Lee Thomas, who in turn was inspired by an episode of the podcast from last year, ‘Living inside the seasons’ where I refer to these wonderful Japanese calendars. Lee, as you might know, lives in a wooden cabin high in the Rocky Mountains. When I say high, I mean HIGH. Although she had mentioned in the past about life in her cabin 8000 ft up a mountain, it hadn’t fully dawned on me how high that is. It is almost twice as high as the highest mountain in the UK!! And as Lee says, there are “also plenty of people in the Colorado Rocky Mountains who live at 9,000, 10,000 or even 11,000 feet.” She also notes that at 8000 feet meteorologists refer to them as the foothills!!

Well, Lee sent me her calendar of seasons – with, as she says, a wry nod towards Dru Marland and her wonderful canal ice thickness chart!

An 8,000 Foot Calendar of the Seasons by Lee Thomas

“March/April: Spring starts to blow hard against the mountain’s back door, demanding unsuccessfully to be let in. Snow blankets the thirsty ground or fails to do so, ushering in wildfire season. 

May: Spring enters shyly. It is welcomed by pasque flowers poking up through the snow, tentative aspen bulbs and brave shoots of green grass. Birds noisily rejoice. 

June/July:  Glorious summer arrives at last. Much firewood gathering and cutting, camping and revelling in the sunshine. 

August: Allergy season ushers in the month. Much sneezing. At month's end, a single gold aspen leaf foretells the coming of autumn. 

September: A luminous guiding of aspens, quaking in the perfectly warm breeze. Full woodshed and the primal satisfaction of a successful harvest. Sneezing continues. 

October: Leaves decorate the ground in a carpet of gold. Winter howls just over the horizon, heralded by the bugling of elk. 

November/December: Holidays with friends remind us that winter is also beautiful. The joy of snuggling in a firelit nest, as the sparkling snowflakes fall outside. 

January/February:  Bitter cold. Winter's charms fade fast. Fantasies of spending two months in Hawaii.” 

[MUSIC]

CABIN CHAT

[MUSIC]

A TOTALLY WORTHWHILE RISK (PART 1)

Sixty-eight years ago, pretty much to the day, Mum and Dad embarked on a totally new phase in their lives together. It was bold, in some ways surprising, it involved a whole life change for them, and certainly had a fair amount of risk associated with it. However, in Mum's own words, "It was a totally worthwhile risk that was never regretted." 

I had already read it as part of Mum's book of her life, but when clearing out the house, we found a whole box of books which contained revised versions, each book forming a stand-alone narrative of a specific section of her life, with, I think, a little more detail. I am going to be reading from this book. I think that you will Mum's account of it interesting, if only as a snap shot of social history of the world nearly 70 years ago. 

I pronounce Nestlé as Nestles rather than Nestlé, as that was how Mum always pronounced it and, as far as I can tell, it was pronounced in Britain at the time.  

[READING]

SIGNING OFF

This is the narrowboat Erica signing off for the night and wishing you a very restful and peaceful night. Good night.

WEATHER LOG