TIM'S OUTPUT
Long Hot Summer
27th June 2018
Tanka Prose:
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Despite the work to be done in the orchard this afternoon, the searing heat imposes a slower pace than usual along the river. The water is placid and clearer than I’ve seen it for many years. Beetles come to the surface every so often, before diving back into the obscurity of the deep. In the shade of willows, roach shelter from the scrutiny of sunshine. Your hooves gently grace the gravel towpath, the rhythmic clopping a pleasant distraction on this weary journey. We’re soon at the orchard; much pruning needs to be done before sundown. Tethering you to the gatepost, I set about my task.
dusty towpath
fringed with flowers...
the white horse
follows my lead
trusts my gentle hand
Inspired by Path to the Orchard, a painting by Sir Alfred Munnings.
Mister Wright
6th June 2018
A haibun (with 4 haiku) about the Santon Downham sand flood of the 1600s. I love Breckland....
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The storms have been unrelenting, threatening the parish for several years. South-west winds have driven them to my door, the furze hedges I planted not holding back the tide. The flood has reached the eves and inundated meadows throughout the village. Little grows in this desert, even sheep’s sorrel cannot persist in the ever changing sandscape.
foxglove spike
rabbit burrows
buried deep
manure heap
the welcome scent
of spring rain
I’m the fortunate one, the tsunami has destroyed the rest of the village. I’ve managed to clear a path to my house with the help of neighbours; some 1500 cart loads shifted in the last month. This back breaking task is nothing compared to digging out the river.
sand hill
a green grasshopper
scales the north face
warren dune
summer thoughts
drift away
Seven Wonders of the Shotley Peninsula
23rd May 2018
When I moved to Manningtree a few years ago, a friend suggested exploration of the nearby Shotley Peninsula in Suffolk. It’s wedged between the Orwell and Stour Estuaries, sporting rolling farmland, valley streams and pockets of ancient woodland thriving with stag beetles and dormice. The following is my list of the seven man-made wonders of the area, each accompanied by a haiku poem. It’s a light-hearted tour of this overlooked and undiscovered country which has more towers than Lord of the Rings!
Holbrook Bell Tower
I first saw the Royal Hospital School’s bell tower from Wrabness on the south side of the Stour Estuary and it has captured my imagination ever since; reminding me of the Lighthouse of Alexandria, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.
child’s mind
a distant bell chimes
with the lamp
St. Mary’s Church
At the eastern end of the peninsula in Erwarton, St. Mary’s Church dates from the 13th century. According to records, Anne Boleyn’s heart was buried in the church by her uncle, Sir Philip Parker.
high belfry
a queen’s heart
in the crypt
Erwarton Hall
Close to St. Mary’s, Erwarton Hall was rebuilt around 1575 by Sir Philip Parker. Legend has it that Anne Boleyn visited her aunt and uncle here with Henry XIII.
pothole rain
beyond the gatehouse
empty windows
Shotley Pier
Suffolk’s only railway pier was built by the Marquis of Bristol in 1894 to transport the Royal Mail between Shotley and Harwich. Sadly, the pier is in need of restoration and is the focus of a well publicised campaign to raise funds.
still bustling
with oystercatchers
disused jetty
HMS Cordelia Mast
The 44 m (143 ft) high mast from HMS Cordelia was erected in 1907 and is a landmark on the eastern tip of the peninsula.
dry dock
white sail in place
of black
Tattingstone Wonder
The Tattingstone Wonder was originally two cottages, but the local squire did not like his view of them so added a third cottage in 1790. A fake tower was added to make them appear like a church.
flint façade
in the third cottage
lovers embrace
Freston Tower
Freston Tower is a six-storey Tudor folly overlooking the Orwell Estuary, allegedly constructed to coincide with Elizabeth I’s visit to Ipswich in 1579.
look-out
the folly of a curlew
calling in the mist
The Seventh Floor
15th May 2018
A haibun (haiku and prose) which is an ancient form of Japanese writing.
Finally, the High Lighthouse is open on a grey spring day. One hundred steps spiral upwards; a claustrophobic staircase. I imagine your ancestors living in sparsely furnished rooms, huddled around fireplaces in winter. Shark’s teeth in a cabinet hold our attention for a few minutes, while we reminisce about an unsuccessful fossil hunt at Harkstead. The top floor houses only a solitary chair and table where the lamp used to be.
leading lights
your name scrawled
in the visitors’ book
Boudica’s Bones
9th May 2018
A haibun (haiku and prose) which is an ancient form of Japanese writing.
Our quest for her skeleton begins. You’re not convinced that the Iceni queen died here, you need proof. Digging in the depression between the trees, there is scant reward for our toil. A few bluebell bulbs and earthworms are turned over in pursuit of the warrior’s remains. We feel like grave robbers; a sordid search of The Rampart after nearly two thousand years.
the faint line
of a ghost hedge
spring drizzle
The excavation continues as the rain recedes. I get a strange feeling of being watched by something beyond the bare embankment; every spade of earth closely monitored. A distant rumble drains the blood from perspiring faces. The sound of boots on clay echoes across the empty field. Dropping our tools we flee from the hedged hollow, not stopping to watch the Roman legion materialise.
lucky escape
thirteen cowslips
on the verge