Sunset and Moonrise

It’s hard to believe that spring is coming but it is – no, really. The birds are singing with renewed vigour and in the garden buds are fattening, the heads of hyacinths are poking through the waterlogged soil and every evening the sun sets a little later. It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s still snowing in many places where it’s been snowing for months, but the return of the sun is inexorable.

At the beginning of the month we were in Hampshire where the scoured hills lay naked and shivering waiting for the first crop of the year to mantle them. The beginning of February is about as bleak as it gets in the UK, trees stand as bare as pylons and wind scourged hedgerows bleached by frost are choked with the dead straws of last summer.

Is it any wonder that people at this time of year are desperate to be reminded that summer will return? Ever since people have lived on these islands we have waited for the signs – any sign – that winter will soon be over. February 2nd is the day that many people tired of winter associate with the return of the sun and wether you call this date Imbolc, St Brigids day, Candlemass (or in the US and Canada, Groundhog day) I think we are all united in one simple desire – to see the start of spring.

Imbolc was a beautiful cold frosty day and as wintry as you can imagine, but it was the first time we’d seen the sun in a good long while.  I spent the day stalking through hedgerows (and I may write about what I saw there in another post), and as the sun sank low on the horizon a two minute miracle occurred. An ash tree in the hedgerow before me was struck golden by the falling rays of the sun, and it flamed against the brilliance of the deep blue winter sky.

As I approached I realised that the tree was full of Fieldfares, a shy migratory thrush we have seen in extraordinary numbers this winter. One by one they streamed from the tree as I got closer, their harsh alarm calls filling the air. I was distracted by sounds in the hedgerow – deer! and when I looked up again, the tree was grey and silent once more. But when I looked in the other direction, I saw this

And this

Later that evening as we knew that the moon would be full, we decided to go and watch it rise and light candles in thanks that the sun would be returning again tomorrow. The sky had clouded over and in truth we didn’t expect to see anything. Then with uncanny timing the clouds parted as we reached our vantage point and slowly a vast amber moon hoisted itself into the sky.

For more beautiful and fascinating images of the sky around the world, visit Skywatch Friday!

Related posts:

New Year Sky

For new year I was in Edinburgh, and though that city is renowned for it’s phenomenal Hogmanay street party, we were there for a relatively quiet time visiting old friends. On New Years Eve morning we peeped out of our bedroom window to find the sky filled with whirling snow – a sight that we are now very familiar with in the UK, but last decade it was still exciting and new.  Despite my love of snow I was hoping that the sky would clear by nightfall as New Year this time around fell not only on a full moon but a blue moon, and as if that were not enough, it was going to be a partial eclipse as well. As the sky began to darken the signs were good – the clouds began to lift, and the early sunset was spectacular as they did so. We set out for a walk.

We wandered through canyons of stone tenements, the chimney tops catching the last salmon pink rays of sun; the air sharpened and pinched at our cheeks and noses. As darkness fell and we wandered along Princes Street it was preparing for a night of outdoor revelry with lights, a funfair and the din of sound checks as the stages were set up ready for the show. And above it all glowered the castle, perched high above the city on it’s snow dusted crag.

The trees that pour down the volcanic slopes on which the castle sits were dressed in lights, and as they twinkled it would not have seemed odd to me if one or more had pulled up it’s roots and begun to stride down the hillside.

But the snow wasn’t done with us yet – the wispy cloud that seemed so thin began dumping huge wet snowflakes on us as we drew level with the funfair, and my friends decided it was time to wander back. It wasn’t such  a terrible wrench – soon the huge crowds would come and I’m not so good at dealing with those, plus there were good things to eat and drink and more friends to see back at the flat. And there was still my hope of seeing that special moon. We’d agreed that when midnight came we’d all be standing on the roof no matter how cold, and I have to admit I had a couple of secret peeks out there on my own before that.  So the time came and one by one we clambered up the ladder and onto an icy, treacherous roof with our glasses and bubbly and big coats and wooly hats, clinging to the chimney pots for warmth and safety. I did see the moon and lovely it was, but I missed the eclipse despite determinedly checking for it all night long. Here’s what we did see though – the fireworks from the castle lighting up the sky.

I hope you all had a good new year,  and that this year will bring your hopes a little closer.

For more beautiful and fascinating images of the sky around the world, visit Skywatch Friday!

Related posts:

Scillonian Sky

Where is this tropical seascape with it’s turquoise water and brilliant sky? You may be surprised to learn that it is a mere 30 miles or so off the UK coast, and I took this photo while leaning over the rails of the Scillonian III, the ferry boat which plies it’s trade between Penzance and one of my favourite places in the whole world – the Isles of Scilly. I’ll be there early in September, so you can expect some pictures of my adventures there at some point – but as to the skies we’ll see… I’ll have to trust to the weather!

For more beautiful and fascinating images of the sky around the world, visit Skywatch Friday!

Related posts:

Nosey Neighbour

I work mostly from home, and I’ve noticed that when I go to the kitchen for my mid afternoon snack I will sometimes have an gimlet eyed audience peering at me through the kitchen window from next door’s roof – particularly if said meal is bread based. Mostly it’s feral pigeons regarding my sandwich with envious eyes, cocking their heads from side to side and shuffling about with muted excitement, but this time it was a juvenile wood pigeon and it didn’t miss a single bite. I’ve never fed them, but obviously they’ve come to associate humans with food and this allows them to live in hope.

For more beautiful and fascinating images of the sky around the world, visit Skywatch Friday!

Related posts:

Under the Rainbow

Last Thursday was a good example of what our weather in the UK seems to be heading for long term – blindingly sunny one moment, the next, torrential thunderstorms of immense violence. The rain comes down with such force that it is actually painful to cycle through – I’ve had to pull over to the side of the road more than once, and watched as the road I was cycling along a moment before becomes a shallow but fast flowing stream. One great upshot of such quickchange weather is that it provides perfect rainbow spotting conditions. I’ve seen some real beauties lately, though I’m afraid I’ve not wanted to risk drenching my camera to capture them. However these pictures were taken safe at the top of our fire escape, and although in theory I was protected from the downpour you can see from the faint smudges on these pictures that the camera lens still caught a few stray drops. This was actually a double rainbow, though the second one came out only faintly. Look closely at the top picture – can you see the second rainbow?

For more beautiful and fascinating images of the sky around the world, visit Skywatch Friday!

Related posts:

« Previous Page — Next Page »