Cygnet

Cygnet under the weeping willows at Westport Lake this weekend.

A Cygnet is the name of a young Swan, this will be one from last spring. It’s white feathers are starting to come through. As it moults after winter it should lose the brown feathers and become fully white. Like in the story the Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Anderson, where the duckling is in reality a young Swan.

I wanted to feed the wild birds while I was there but the Wildlife Trust are not selling bird food. There is bird flu in the country and when they come together to feed it can spread between the geese and ducks and swans, moorhens and coots. So sad to see. Hopefully they will be OK and the population will recover soon.

Votes for women

Today is International Women’s Day and out local theatre, the Mitchell Memorial Theatre is showing archive footage from history of the Votes for Women movement more than a century ago.

Even now Women in the world do 2/3 of the work for 1/10 of the pay. When you compare that to the 80 richest Men in the world own the same as half the worlds population about 3,500,000,000 people. Women are restricted by laws and religious beliefs. They often only get basic education and are sometimes forced into marriage as children. The World is an unequal place. If you are holding international Women’s days events I hope they are well attended and go well. X

Dragon bright

Dragon doodle, then flood filled with yellow. ‘dragon burning in the night, why do you burn so bright?’

A question. Why are dragons supposed to breath fire. Why does JRR Tolkeins dragon Smaug live in a mountain full of gold that could almost be a volcano, but when fire comes it is from the dragon itself flying over Laketown in the story of the Hobbit.

They breathe fire in other stories too. And authors come up with elaborate ideas of how they make it. For instance the book ‘Guards, Guards’ by Terry Pratchett.

All art of their mystery.

Blue and yellow on my mind

Sunflowers and blue leaves, abstract pattern. Waiting for a resolution, no sign of peace or compromise. Women and children, old men and women try to escape. But their routes are snared with artillery and arms. Meanwhile the world waits for what? Who can guess… Time flies, slowly. Only a few days feels like a month of Sundays. I’m starting to avoid the news. So bleak. So much pain but so much bravery. My country? Keeping refugees out! Talking about security breaches instead of desperate humanity. Bean counters. May they be told to help instead of hindering. Me.. I’m just sad and confused.

Camellia

Beauty on a spring morning. Petals turned toward the sun. Glistening pink surfaces. Yellow/orange centres. They look edible, like gorgeous sweets. Crisp and crunchy, or like cupcake icing. Sugar lumps of tasty colour. Then the dark green shining leaves. They add a polished background to their jewel like flowers. How strong they grow in early spring. The frost sometimes nibbles petal and leaf. But on a bright sunlight morning, what better sight.

Clothes sizes

I was talking to a friend about buying clothes and she said although she has lost weight she still thinks she’s a size twenty. She said the woman serving her said the clothes in the shop only go up to size eighteen. My friend was so embarrassed she decided to say she was buying for a friend. She tried on an eighteen and a sixteen and they both fit because she has lost weight. But I think the shop and its owners are missing a trick. The majority of women in the UK are over size sixteen. I think the fashion industry disenfranchises a lot of customers. They struggle to find affordable clothes that will fit. How many size ten to fourteen clothes remain unsold and go to landfill? If they sell ten percent of their clothes the rest will probably not be recycled. What a waste of resources and money.

Willows

A short story…

A cold wind blew across the lake, finding gaps in my coat and blowing my hair around. The branches and fronds of the willow trees streamed like ribbons on a kite, lifting and waving. The ducks ruffled up their feathers against the cold. We had walked out of sunshine into shade and the temperature had dropped noticeably.

The man and his dog walked towards us. It was muzzled with a band of leather round it’s mouth, but it still pulled the man along. It was a big dog. A hound of some sort. It was difficult to see in the gloom. As we came level with them the dog jumped up. It’s paws landing on my shoulders. I was knocked over by its weight. I sat down hard in a puddle. The weight of the dog pushing against me.

The man looked alarmed. Shocked. He tugged the dog away. All he said was ‘sorry’ and walked off! I sat there freezing and wet….. What a day!