Archive for the ‘Trees’ Category

Local history exhibition and Lake Ilawa, Poland

August 5, 2019

Dunbar and District History Society (DDHS) have a new exhibition in Dunbar Town House, entitled Summers in Dunbar. The exhibition, excellently curated by DDHS secretary Pauline Smeed, presents a range of information and images from the 1960s onwards, showing how Dunbar was a very popular holiday resort. The town is still an attraction for tourist as this Tripadvisor page (good photos) shows.

Returnable keys at The Roxburghe Hotel in Dunbar (Click on all photos to enlarge – recommended)

The first photo from the exhibition shows what was the magnificent Roxburghe Marine Hotel, which was one of Scotland’s leading hotels in the 1950s and 1960s. My former classmate Nigel Marcel’s parents owned the hotel in the 1960s and 1970s and he confirmed that when guests mistakenly went away with hotel keys, they would inevitably be returned with a stamp affixed to the key. Room 42 was on the top floor facing the sea. The hotel was later demolished and the area now contains a block of 4 storey attractive flats, many with sea views and a row of cottages which overlook the sea in front. We are lucky enough to live in one the cottages. Nigel remembers cutting the long grass where our house now stands, with a scythe.

Dunbar’s east beach in the 1960s

The second photo from the exhibition shows Dunbar’s east beach, probably in the late 1950s or early 1960s. The beach over the years has lost its sand and has become less used. The people in the photo appear to be very well dressed, so this photo may have been taken on a Sunday, with crowds gathering possibly for a Faith Mission meeting. In the background of the photo, above the beach itself, you can see the remains of the old granary and distillery buildings which stretched along from the harbour. At the bottom right of the photo is an early – and what looks like a very basic – pram. You can see more photos  from the exhibition and more examples of summers in Dunbar on the DDHS website

We were invited to our friends’ son’s wedding in Poland last weekend. The wedding took place in the idyllic setting of Lake Ilawa. There is a complex of large and small lakes in this area and we were in  the town of Ilawa, which is on one of the smaller lakes. 

Looking across Lake Ilawa

The photo above shows the view of Lake Ilawa and this smaller lake had a 2K circumference. This is looking across the water to the Hotel Stary Tartak (good photos) where we stayed and where the wedding took place. The hotel is very comfortable and very cheap by UK standards. Walking around the lake was a pleasure as once you got past the shopping area, few people were about.

Lake Ilawa through the trees

This photo shows the lake through the trees which cover the lakeside but do not obstruct your view and add interest to your walk. We did take a boat trip which began on this lake and went round an island in the next, much bigger lake. It was a very relaxing 50 minutes and although much of the trip passes the lakeside reeds, these are wonderful to look at, as they swayed in the breeze, just like the barley fields at home at the moment.

A coot swims at the lakeside in Ilawa

At the landing where the boat trip starts, there were many ducks and also a number of coots which have the scientific name Fulica Atra. These are very attractive birds but they tend to be very wary of humans in this country and will swim away rapidly at your approach. At the lakeside in Ilawa, the coots are obviously accustomed to people approaching them, so I was pleased to get this photo of the coot and its reflection in the swirling water, with its varied light patterns.

Water lily on the lakeside at the Stary Tartak

Water lilies by the lakeside at the Stary Tartak

At the back of the Hotel Stary Tartak, were outside seating areas and some loungers at the lakeside. When you got to the water’s edge, you could see the large cluster of water lilies (Nymphaea). In the close-up photo above, you can see the beautiful pink petals – inspiration for the Sydney Opera House maybe? – and the delicate yellow stamens reaching for the sun. The 2nd photo shows the water lily flowers sitting on their fan-like leaves amongst the reeds. If you ever need to be away from it all and relax , go and look at some water lilies.

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Malcolm Mackay novel and Peebles revisited

July 9, 2019

Having taken a few weeks to read Milkman (previous post), I read Malcolm Mackay’s How a Gunman Says Goodbye in a week. This is a crime novel – which won the Scottish Crime Novel of the Year Award – with a difference. In most crime fiction, the police are the main characters and the focus is on their thinking and their procedures and (mostly) how they solve the crime. In Mackay’s novel – the 2nd in a trilogy about the Glasgow underworld – the focus is on the criminals themselves and in particular, on Frank MacLeod who has spent his adult life as a gunman or hit man for organised crime in the city. Mackay takes us very convincingly into the mind of Frank (as he is referred to in the novel) and his boss Peter Jamieson, who runs legitimate bars and nightclubs but is also involved in drug dealing. The novel is written in short sentences and short chapters but this adds to the quality of the writing, rather than detracting from it e.g. “People [other gunmen] get surprised by something and freeze. Never happened to Frank”. There is an excellent array of characters with some deep insight into the mindset of Frank, a young gunman Calum and Jamieson. The plot moves with alacrity and the reader is constantly wondering what will happen next. My attempts to second guess Mackay all failed. Frank MacLeod is obviously a bad person, who has killed many people to order, but the reader will have some sympathy with Frank’s dilemna – no spoiler here – around which the book is shaped. We should not sympathise with such a character, but we do. There are policemen in the book but they are on the sidelines. So how does a gunman say goodbye? You will have to read this highly recommended book. There is a very good interview with Malcolm Mackay here.

Excellent crime novel (Click on all photos to enlarge – recommended)

At the weekend, we had a visit from my friend and ex-colleague Bob, on a visit from Australia, who has been to Dunbar a number of times but had never visited Peebles in the Scottish Borders. We had a walk along Peebles’ attractive High Street with its late Victorian architecture and I took Bob down a close (Scots for alley or vennel) to see the door of what is still a painter’s and decorator’s business. In the photo below, you can see that this ornate leaded window on the door shows the much wider extent of the business in former times. A gilder was “someone whose occupation was to apply an overlay of gold or gilt” according to one dictionary. The firm also installed windows – glazier and painted signs for businesses – sign writer. A bellhanger turns out to be what it says on the tin – a skilled tradesman who hung bells, presumably in churches.

Windows on a door in Peebles

We then had a 4 mile walk (good photos) along the River Tweed which runs through Peebles. It was a sunny day and there were excellent reflections of the trees across the river. In the photo below, you can see how the reflections slightly blur the image of the trees, but still give you a double view of the trunks and extensive branches of the trees that line the river bank.

The River Tweed in Peebles

Further on in the walk, we looked up to see Neidpath Castle and the website cited contains a very good aerial view of the castle at this time of year. I took the photo below in the winter time, so the trees are bare, but this gives you a clearer view of the castle itself. The castle has a long history going back to the 12th century and it is described as “rubble-built” i.e. mainly of rough stone and you can see this from the ruined section to the left of the castle.

Neidpath Castle near Peebles

The walk then passes a very impressive bridge along which the railway used to run. The photo below – again taken in the winter on another visit – shows the structure of the bridge, which has eight arches and in the column at the side of each arch, there is a cross., the significance of which I could not find. Above the arches, you can see the cast-iron railings which are another attractive feature of what is called the Neidpath Viaduct.

The old railway bridge near Peebles

The walk continues to another bridge which we crossed and made our way back to Peebles over the hill and along the side of the extensive forest.

Guardian Country diary on bluebells and honeysuckle in the garden

June 7, 2019

At the beginning of May, I read an inspiring Guardian Country Diary article by Paul Evans entitled “Spring pilgrimage to an uncanny bluebell wood” and I have kept it in mind for the blog. Evans is a poetic writer with a great gift of finding appropriate words for the scenes he describes and this article begins ” Bluebells in Black Hayes – the sky above the leafing oaks is spring clear, with an echoing blue shimmer across the woodland floor” and further on we find that this blue shimmer is a carpet of bluebells. The photo below is a local shimmer of blue in the form of bluebells in the woods at Foxlake woods near Dunbar. It is a wonderful sight as the colour of the delicate looking bluebells is enhanced by the mainly still bare trees.

Bluebells at Foxlake woods (Click on all photos to enlarge – recommended)

Evans continues ” Black Hayes is strangely open, a kind of wood pasture whose secret valley slopes support amazing lawns of bluebells” and it to these woods, situated near former coal mines, that he makes an annual pilgrimage ” to stand and look and breathe them in”. While I enjoy the look and faint smell of the bluebells, I need to get close up to the flowers to see their intricate patterns and the surprising number of shades of blue in each flower, as in the photo below.

Many shades of blue

Evans feels that this wood “is always uncanny as if resents trespass” but he then hears the birds singing, which is more positive, although he ends with “A pair of ravens bark at our presence” and the poet in him returns. This is a short article but one with depth and you have feeling reading it that you might have been by the writer’s side. The bluebells have had their time in the sunlight at Foxlake and the ground is now in shade as the trees have a canopy of leaves, but the sight of them lives long in the memory.

Bluebells at Foxlake

In my garden, the honeysuckle is in full flower and an absence of strong westerly winds, which we often get at this time of year, has meant that the flowers have lasted longer than normal. I cut the honeysuckle back last year and this has resulted in a new flourish of these multicoloured flowers. You can see in the photo below that when the honeysuckle do flower, there is an extravaganza of flower heads, with beautiful white, pink and purple on display. Honeysuckle with its scientific name of lonicera is also known as woodbine and in Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, Oberon refers to a bank “Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine”.

Honeysuckle bush in full flower

As with the bluebells, you need to get close up and personal with the honeysuckle to see how it takes on an altogether more surreal appearance. In the photo below, the flower takes on the structure of an alien creature, newly arrived on earth, with its octopus like tentacles spread out to catch sight of (and maybe devour) the strange earthlings.

Multi limbed honeysuckle flower

When you take a step back, you can see (next photo) how the flowers and the leaves complement each other, with the delicately veined leaves providing a background for the more colourful flowers which have, like the bluebells, an amazing range of shades of colour. We are now officially in summer here in the UK and the honeysuckle sparkling in the sunshine today really make it feel like summer. Mmmm – a pity about that cool east wind.

The driveway to Spott House: daffodils and views beyond

April 11, 2019

Over the past 2 weeks, there has been a proliferation of daffodils around East Lothian – on the approaches to towns and villages, at roundabouts, on the edges of woods and in gardens (including my own) around Dunbar. My wife returned from her Wednesday walking group outing to tell me of a spectacular display of daffodils on the driveway up to Spott House (good photos), the residence of the owner of the local Spott Farm. The next day was bright and sunny, so we returned to capture the scene. The two photos below are looking up the driveway, from the left hand side and then the right hand side. The trees are still bare, so the daffodils have no competition in the colour stakes with the green leaves which will appear later. The starkness of the trees in fact enhances the brilliant yellow of the daffodils, although the tree trunks along the edges of the driveway are tall, slim and elegant.

Looking up the driveway to Spott House (Click on all photos to enlarge)
Looking up the driveway to Spott House

There had been rain that morning and this had left most of the daffodils with pearl-like drops of rain on them. The two close up shots below – from the front and the back of the flowers – show the translucent quality of the outer leaves, which are paler compared to the brighter yellow. The sun on the first photo makes the delicate raindrops sparkle on the flower head.

Raindrops on the daffodils

In the second photo below, I like the way that the stem behind the rain-spotted leaf is like a shadow and the natural structure of the flower head is something that a human designer or engineers might be proud of. Again the sun helps to give a wonderful sheen to the silk-like texture of the leaves.

Rain on the back of a daffodil head

There are superb views across the countryside from this driveway. The next photo shows the view to the west and you can see that the daffodils are now in full bloom and are complemented by the background of an oil seed rape field which is just turning yellow. When the daffodils fade, the field behind will be a huge swathe of even brighter yellow.

Daffodils, trees and ripening oil seed rape near Spott House

The next photo shows a view of Doon Hill from the driveway. The hill is famous for its neolithic settlement and its proximity to the site of the Battle of Dunbar in 1650. In the photo, you can see the gorse bushes on the hill which are also yellow at this time of year.

Doon Hill seen from Spott House Driveway

From this location, you get a superb view over to Dunbar and you can see how the town has expanded in recent years with the building of hundreds of new houses. On the right hand side, just next to the trees, is Dunbar Parish Church and our house is down the hill from that church.

Looking over Dunbar from Spott House driveway

The final view is looking down the driveway, which gives a splendid view of the trees and the daffodils on either side. In the distance, the hill you can see is North Berwick Law (good photos) which dominates that area of East Lothian. So we enjoyed a fine walk on a Spring morning with invigorating views and an entrancing display of daffodils.

Looking towards North Berwick Law from Spott House

Bia Bistrot restaurant and cycling against the wind

March 18, 2019

We’ve now been twice to the excellent Bia Bistrot restaurant in Edinburgh. The name is intriguing and its origins lie in the background of the owners and chefs. Roisin (pr Rosheen) is Irish and she provides the Bia which is Irish Gaelic for food. Matthias is French and Bistrot is a French form of bistro. Their philosophy is to provide customers with “good food in a bistro atmosphere” and they certainly do that. The restaurant is situated just off Holy Corner in Edinburgh’s Morningside area. The name Holy Corner originates from the 4 churches which are situated on or near the crossroads on Morningside Road. So to the food in Bia Bistrot. Forget about good food which the restaurant offers, this is very high quality food at very reasonable prices, especially at lunch time. There is a daily set menu at lunch time which offers customers 2 courses for £10 and 3 courses for £12. Given the location of the restaurant – Morningside is often seen as quite posh – and the quality of the food, this is amazing value. On our last visit, 2 out of the four of us choose this menu and were not disappointed. One of the dishes which is not on the regular menu but is part of the daily specials from time to time, is (photo below) Gressingham duck terrine & raspberry dressing. This is a dish that looks good when it is laid in front of you but it’s when you taste it that its appeal rises from good to superb. Sometimes when you go to good restaurants, the lunch menu is cheaper but the portions can be meagre. This is certainly not the case with Bia Bistrot.


An attractive and tasty starter in Bia Bistrot (Click on all photos to enlarge)

I chose a dish off the main menu, the Cod fillet, saffron potatoes, crayfish and chorizo bisque and the dish itself matches your expectations when you read the ingredients. It’s also wonderful to look at as in the photo below – enlarge for best effect. There’s a lot of talk these days about food porn i.e. people taking more time to photograph their food and sending it out via social media, than it takes to eat the food. In this restaurant, the eating is the real reward as you enjoy a delicious combination of fresh ingredients. The photos were sent to me by Matthias. The service in Bia Bistrot is friendly, attentive but not intrusive and the food is of a very high quality. Everyone we know who has gone to the restaurant sings its praises, so if you are in the area, be sure to book ahead.

Attractive and delicious cod dish at Bia Bistrot

For the past 2 weeks, we’ve had strong to gale force winds almost every day and the early spring flowers such as the crocuses in a previous post, have been battered relentlessly. As far as cycling goes, I left my lighter road bike in the garage and went out on my mountain bike, which is heavier but more stable in the wind. There is lots of advice on the web about cycling against the wind e.g. here but much of it is stating the obvious, such as checking the direction and strength of the wind before you go out. Cycling against the wind comes in two forms. The most straightforward – and the hardest – is cycling into the wind. When you are having to cycle down a hill just to keep going, it’s you and the bike against the wind – a battle that one of you is going to win. There’s no time to look at the brilliant green of the emerging crops in the fields in spring around Dunbar or to admire the freshness and shiny undulations in a newly ploughed field. The second form is not as hard but can be the most dangerous. This is when the wind is coming at you from the side. There is a steep hill going down to Pitcox farm and the “big hoose (house)” (good photo), and this can be an exhilarating ride, but in very strong winds there is a need to anticipate the gaps in the hedges which line the fields, as the wind surges through and can knock you across the road. There are also two joys of cycling against the wind. The first is that you can hear the wind coming against you but also you can hear it whooshing through the trees at the road side. The poet Longfellow wrote
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.

A new word to me is Psithurism which is the sound of the wind through the trees – the P is silent and it is obviously onomatopoeic, as when you pronounce each syllable slowly, you can hear the wind. The second joy is at the turning point in the cycle ride and you get what my pal John calls “a blaw hame (blow home)”. This your reward for the previous struggle against the wind and you can hurtle along the road with impunity.

The Perseverance by Raymond Antrobus and crocuses in Stenton

February 26, 2019

A delay in the blog due to visiting rellies, local history talk and a grand day out with my former (but never old) classmates Tam and Nigel. I’ve just finished reading the latest Poetry Book Society Choice, Raymond Antrobus’ The Perseverance. The young poet Raymond Antrobus is described as British-Jamaican and part of the book is an elegy to his late father. The other distinguishing feature of this remarkably assured debut collection is Antrobus’ reflections on his experience as a child and young adult who was deaf at birth. The first poem is Echo and begins “My ear amps whistle as if singing/ to Echo, Goddess of Noise,/ the ravelled knot of tongues,/ of blaring birds, consonant crumbs/ of dull doorbells, sounds swamped/ in my misty hearing aid tubes”. It is obviously impossible for a person with normal hearing to imagine being deaf, but these lines gives us a vivid description of what it might be like. Antrobus’ precision with words e.g. “ravelled knot”, “consonant crumbs” or “misty” makes you read the lines again, to get the full effect. Part of the book is an anguished cry about what he calls the d/Deaf experience and how deaf children have been treated unequally because of their difference i.e. not disability e.g. “I call you out… for assessing / deaf students on what they can’t say / instead of what they can”. The title of the book The Perseverance refers to the name of the pub the poet’s father used to leave him outside as a child and “watch him disappear / into smoke and laughter”. His father tells him “There’s no such thing as too much laughter” after visiting the pub, but the poet notes that this may be true, “unless you’re my mother without my father”. The father may be flawed (and who is not?) but is mostly a loving and patient father, especially when reading to his deaf son. Antrobus has a wonderful facility for creating emotion with words. Referring to his father’s late dementia, he thanks the syndrome for bringing back memories of the past to his father, such as the dance halls he enjoyed. “When his sleeping face / was a scrunched tissue / wet with babbling, / you came, unravelling a joy / making him euphoric” and he asks dementia to ” do your gentle magic / but make me unafraid / of what is / disappearing”. Antrobus is a young poet and his second collection will be expectantly awaited.


A remarkable debut collection from an outstanding poet (Click on all photos to enlarge)

The previous post featured snowdrops, and as Monday follows Sunday, the crocuses follow the snowdrops with a blaze of colour, as if determined to outshine their plain green and white predecessors. Out on the bike, I often cycle through the bonnie village of Stenton which is about 6 miles/ 10K from Dunbar, away from the coast to the foot of the hills. There are two extensive groups of crocus in the village. The first photo shows the spread of different colours in the flowers, with a stone cottage in the background and the church spire just above the cottage.

Crocuses in Stenton village

The next photo shows the spread of crocuses beneath The Tron – a wooden beam with an iron crossbar and hooks on either end. This device was historically used to weigh bulk items such as wool and grain in the markets which used to be held in the village. The word tron is derived from the French word for balance – more information here.

Crocuses beneath the Tron in Stenton village

I took a number of close-up shots of the crocuses – you can also refer to croci as crocus is a Latin word, albeit derived from the Greek krokos – to get a better view of their strength of colour along with the delicacy of their flower heads. The first photo shows two groups of crocuses, one yellow and one purple. They complement each other and are shown off to good effect by the green of the grass beneath them. When the crocuses first start to appear, it is their own greenery – hiding the emergent flowers – which shows first and they can be hard to spot. Then, all of a sudden it seems, there is a huge outbreak of colour.

A choir of yellow and purple crocuses

On closer inspection, in the photo below, you can see the bright orange stigma reaching out to attract the bees and other pollinators. What is more attractive is the David Hockney like lines inside the flower. These thin and thicker purple lines resemble images of trees in winter. Walking past this group of crocuses, you might never see these patterns.

Patterns inside the crocus flower heads in Stenton

In the next photo – of one crocus – the lines are even more delicate and the sun shining on part of the flower head adds to it beautiful shape and patterns.

I then went along to the village green to see the other natural display – another outburst of colours on the grass and between the trees. The final photo shows the sweep of the crocuses, the colour enhanced by the bare trees, and the solid stone cottages, of which there are many in this very attractive East Lothian village.

Crocuses on the village green in Stenton

Kathleen Jamie poem and trees and ewes at Smeaton Gardens

February 5, 2019

In the latest Poetry Book Society Bulletin (Winter 2018), there is a poem from the well known poet Kathleen Jamie. It is from her latest book Selected Poems and is entitled Skeins O Geeese – a poem written in Scots. It begins

Skeins of geese write a word / across the sky. A word / struck lik a gong / afore I was born. / The sky moves like cattle, lowin’.

I found two interesting aspects of this poem. Firstly, the dramatic images and secondly, that it reads as well in English as it does in Scots, although the poet herself (and others) may not agree, of course. We often get skeins of geese above us in the autumn (going south) and in the spring (going north) and it is a wonderful sight – a moving V across the sky. I had never thought of the onward skein as words being written in the sky, but I do like the image. The second image here – of the sky moving like lowing cattle – is also eyebrow raising and the next time you see clouds slowly moving across the sky, you might think of cattle. The poem is not just about the sky. On the ground,

Wire twists lik archaic script/ roon a gate. The barbs / sign tae the wind as though / it was deef. The word whustles / ower high for ma senses. Awa.

Only a poet as perceptive and lyrical as Jamie could see twisted wire on a farm gate as archaic script, but it is an apt simile if you picture hieroglyphics on a stone. The image of the wire using sign language to the deaf wind is also striking and the poet accepts that, as a mere human, she cannot hear the words of the wire. Again, if you read this in English, it loses none of its effect. Whustles or Whistles? Is one better than the other? Jamie obviously prefers the Scots. You can read the whole poem, as published in the prestigious Times Literary Supplement here.

New book by Kathleen Jamie (Click on all photos to enlarge)

Another cold winter’s day but with a brilliant blue sky and we parked the car at the bottom of the hill and walked up to Smeaton Gardens (good photos). Regular readers of this blog will know that I have a fascination with trees and on this walk up to the garden centre, there are a variety of kinds of trees, tree shapes and tree silhouettes. The first tree below is an evergreen but despite searching for a similar tree, I do not know what type of tree it is, but it could be a Scots pine. It stands out in the winter as most of the other trees are bare. This tree is obviously quite old as it has grown separate trunks above the base. It is an untidy looking tree, with its floppy branches and gaps everywhere and yet it stands in its own magnificence and looks warmer than its naked neighbours.

Evergreen tree at Smeaton Gardens

The second tree is a polar opposite to the first one. This tree looks as if it has suffered a lightning strike to its top and an electric shock to its branches, which although static, appear to be waving about. In the background, to the bottom left, North Berwick Law (good photos) can be seen above the distant forest.

Damaged tree at Smeaton Gardens

As you enter the grounds of Smeaton Gardens, there is a sign saying “Pregnant ewes” and warning dog owners to keep their beasts on a lead. We saw the ewes at the top of the drive. These are no ordinary ewes and the photo below shows their thick woollen coats and muscular looking bodies. The ewes were feeding amongst the horse jumping arena near the garden centre and you half expected to see one or more of them leap over one of the obstacles on the course.

Ewes amongst the horse jumps at Smeaton Gardens

On closer inspection (photo below), some of the ewes appeared to be small brown bears which had stolen in to the ewes’ enclosure to feed on the lush looking grass. The ewes were at first curious and came near us but, maybe working out that we were not going to provide them with extra food, they meandered off, looking none too pleased at our potential intrusion. It’s now February, so lambing cannot be far off for these expectant mothers.

Brown bear looking ewes at Smeaton Gardens

James Lee Burke’s “Robicheaux” and countryside frost

January 29, 2019

I have just finished reading Robicheaux by the noted US author James Lee Burke. This book is classified as a crime novel and indeed, there is much crime and many criminals to be found in the book, but Burke is such a lyrical writer, especially when describing the bayou settings in the novel, that it should be a novel first and a crime novel second. The titular hero Dave Robicheaux, has featured in many of Burke’s novel and is now semi-retired – officially – but he becomes fully involved in an investigation of a series of murders which involve police on the take, corrupt politicians, gangsters and a terrifying psychopath. Burke has always been a social commentator in his novels, although he never preaches. The book highlights the social tensions in US society between rich and poor, black and white, moral and amoral. One of the key characters in the book is Jimmy Nightingale, a populist politician who plays on the racist and anti-immigrant prejudices of many of his constituents, and is running for the senate, with hopes of higher office. Sounds familiar.

Robicheaux himself is a complex character, who is a recovering and occasionally lapsing alcoholic and Vietnam veteran. His fight is against criminals and the corrupt, but also against himself and his sometimes violent tendencies. His best pal is Clete Purcel, another complicated man whose view is that injustice is best served via violence against the perpetrators. Robicheaux tries to help Purcel and Purcel tries to keep his friend sober. Burke’s dialogue is one of his great strengths and it can be humorous. The pair meet in a bar and it looks like Purcel may be on a bender. Robicheaux asks “Why not put your brain in a jar and give it to a medical school”. The reply is “I did that five years ago. They gave it back”.

This is a mainly male-dominated novel but some of the female characters are well developed, such as Robicheaux’s female boss. Burke has always been a superb story teller and he keeps a complex plot moving and provides the reader with intriguing possibilities as to who might be behind the crime wave that is emerging in the county. Another character is the bayou itself and Burke has many poetic descriptions of the environment in which Robicheaux has his home. For example: “The coastline was a heartbreaking green inside the mist. Flying fish broke from the bay’s surface and sailed above the water …. The salt spray breaking on my bow was cold and fresh and smelled of resilience”. Reading Burke’s novel, you get a sense of the beauty and the danger (e.g. crocodiles) of the natural world, as well as the human world. This is a pacy thriller – but much more than that.

James Lee Burke’s captivating novel (Click on all photos to enlarge)

We now go from the heat and humidity of the Louisiana bayou to the cold and frost (but beautiful blue skies) of south east Scotland. On a recent Sunday morning, we drove 2 miles up country and parked the car at Oswald Dean, locally known as Oasie Dean and went on a circular walk. There was a heavy frost at our house and it was even thicker up the country, but there is a startlingly bright beauty about a frosted scene, such as this one, looking over the bridge at Oasie Dean. The trees, bushes and grass are all whitened and make the blue of the burn more outstanding than normal. The burn interrupts the imposed stillness of its surroundings.

Frosted meadow at Oswald Dean near Dunbar

Just across the road, on the wall above the neighbouring field, I spotted the frozen ivy leaves. The leaves and grass on this side of the wall remained white and stiff, while the leaves at the top and the yellow moss on the right of the photo below, had been restored to suppleness by the sun.

Frosted ivy and sun restored moss on the wall at Oswald Dean

On closer inspection (photo below), the ivy leaves appeared to be delicately dusted with frost, which served not to conceal, but to emphasise the delicate patterns of the veins on the leaves. Some were completely iced over and prickly-looking, while others were only fringed by ice and displayed what looked like a huge river, with tributaries on either side.

Frosted ivy leaves at Oswald Dean

We continued our walk up past The Doonery, now a collection of houses but formerly a farm, with an impressive chimney. Looking back at the Doonery (photo below) the edge of the path which was sheltered from the sun, was still frost-bound. I like the long straight lines in the photo, leading your eye to the bare trees and the former farm buildings.

Frosty pathside leading to the Doonery

Further up, this path has some magnificent trees which glowed in the bright blue winter sunlight. In the photo below, you can see the shadows cast by the trees. It looks like a man or woman is reaching up to pick something off the branches. The tress maybe leafless in January but they still impress with their sturdiness and shining trunks. Above the darker blue sea in the background, the sky goes from pale to a similar dark blue.

Trees on the path up to Doon Hill cast interesting shadows

We came back down the hill via Spott Farm which now appears to be open to walkers and runners, having been closed off for a number of years. The farm has many solid sandstone buildings and as you turn one corner, you see the farm clock (photo below), with its small campanile above. The roof had been partly in the sun, but the frost was still thick on the unwarmed sections.

We were walking down the driveway from the main Spott House building, when 3 deer leapt the fence to our right and bounced across the road into the next field. Seeing deer dash away from you, with their white rumps disappearing into the field, is always a pleasure to see. I managed to catch one of the deer (photo below) as it crossed the tree-lined driveway and the still frosted grass. Again, the trees cast shadows which left sunny rectangles on the road and the grass. A fine end to a very enjoyable walk.

A deer crosses over the road up to Spott House

Scottish Birds photography and the white sands of Jervis Bay

January 22, 2019

As a member of the Scottish Ornithologists’ Club, albeit as only an occasional bird watcher, I receive the journal Scottish Birds – see latest cover ( and some content) here. For serious birders – do not use the pejorative term twitchers – there are many well researched and peer-reviewed articles in the journal. My main interest is in the photography. Through the help of Harry Scott of Pica Design and with the permission of the photographers, I am able to reproduce three aesthetically pleasing examples here.

The first is of a honey-buzzard (below) which was captured in flight, showing its magnificent wingspan. This bird is a living creature but also a work of art. It is beautifully symmetrical – look at the outer wing, finger-like feathers and the Australian aboriginal-like painting patterns on the wings. The bird’s tail could be a Japanese fan, used to display status and cool down its user, as opposed to being part of this superb hunter’s killing machine. The eyes and the beak look small and insignificant in comparison, but they too are part of the hunter’s toolkit. I see many more common buzzards as I cycle around the countryside than I did a few years ago and buzzards often sit on fences next to a dual carriageway in our county. They look in control of their territory and their elegant flight is something to see.

Honey Buzzard – Copyright John Anderson (Click on all photos to enlarge)

The second photo is of avocets (below)which have the superb Latin name recurvirostra avosetta, which translates as having a curved back and beak. The avocet really is a most elegant bird, with its long straight legs like pillars holding up an earthquake threatened building, an upright stance and that beak which is turned up at the end, giving the bird a haughty look. There’s an excellent video of avocets here (scroll down to the video) where you can hear the birds chitter-chattering and watch their non-stop action in preening and feeding.

Avocets Copyright Ron Penn

The third photo (below) is a new bird to me, the kildeer (good photos) – the charadrius vociferous – which has a distinctive call and is a rare visitor to the UK. This photo was taken in Shetland and was only the 5th sighting in 50 years. This is a small bird but the shapes formed by the colours of the feathers around the eye, beak and neck give it a rare elegance. The subtle brown of the feathers on its back draws your eye to the black stripes and up to the slightly darker brown around its alert eye.

Kildeer Copyright Donna Atherton

While staying with our friends on our last stop in Australia recently, they took us down the coast to the idyllic beaches at Jervis Bay (good photos). We have a beach called Whitesands not far from Dunbar and it is a beautiful beach. In terms of being white however, Jervis Bay beaches are a long way ahead. The photo below shows one of the white beaches through the trees next to the road above the beach and you can see the brightness of the beach and the delicate turquoise of the sea.

Once you were down on the shore, there were big waves rolling in. The water was not as warm as we enjoyed in Port Douglas, but it was still very pleasant for a paddle. You can see in the photo below the whiteness of the collapsed waves, the bluey green sea behind and the slope of the beach. There was a considerable drag each time a wave performed its diving act and turned back to meet the next wave.

As we walked through the bush at the edge of the beach, we came across this friendly gecko, which was completely undisturbed by my close-up photography and seemed willing to pose for the camera. In the first photo below, the gecko catches your eye first but then you see the huge spider-like split in the tree trunk, as you follow the gecko’s tail to the leaf-laden floor of the bush.

In the next photo, the gecko’s ability to camouflage itself is apparent and when it climbed further up the tree trunk, it was hard to spot against the darker wood. I loved the rough curves and lines of the gum tree trunk, which had cast off the bark it no longer needed. There is a plethora of Australian geckos which you can see here. If you have more time and patience than me, I’m sure you might be able to identify this particular type of gecko.