Whatever your persuasion, whether you look at it as Beltain, May Day, or the first day of summer, yesterday, for once, the weather played its part. Actually the weather always plays its part-it’s just that it’s not always the weather you want!
Anyway the sun was out, and after doing my errands for She Who Must Be Obeyed I took time out in our local Jubilee Park which was certainly dressed for the occasion.
Adorned in her best Cherry blossom, who cannot be lifted on a day such as this? Even I-Autumn and Winter lover that I am.
Though it may not be the exact geographical centre of my town I certainly look upon this area as both its historic and spiritual centre. St.Leonard’s church, part of which dates back to Norman times, is the church that my wife and I were married in. It is believed there was a wooden Saxon church here before this, and possibly built, as was the custom, on the site of a pagan temple. A stone’s throw away is the suspected place of a Roman signal point, and just behind it some long gone prehistoric barrows.
And speaking of history-here’s a building that has figured prominently in mine. This is Middleton Library. You guys know I’m a bookworm, right? Go beyond those upstairs windows, in what is now the reference library, and you just might see the ghost of an eleven-year-old Jackdaw diligently doing his homework with his school mates in the former children’s section.
I wonder if I’d recognise him? Would he know me?
I’ve been a member of that library for something like thirty five years. And now my own book is in there. How cool is that?
Near to the bandstand I found the Middleton coat of arms, shyly stating its claim in the grass. And those dandelions-so important for the early bees when many flowers have yet to bloom. At least that’s what I tell my wife when she wants the garden doing.
Do you remember my post from two weeks ago, when the Beast from the East roared in an attempt to thwart my plans of getting home to Manchester from a clinic in Leeds? And how I was foolishly optimistic about my return stay as it was a fortnight later on a most probable balmy March 16th?
Well this is Leeds this morning:
I’m starting to think it’s personal.
Something new (and late) over on my poetry blog.
Indian Summer Indian Summer, golden and implausibly charred. Only one pot holds flowers to reach for the sun, all of the others contain withered wraiths of long-spent blooms, their calendar clocks denying the possibility Of these late September days. ©AndrewJamesMurray
I’m sorry Mr Darwin, but six and a half weeks summer holidays were never part of the natural order. We mess around with nature and we screw things up.