Mrs BW and I left the kids in their beds and braving the biting wind, set off for a stroll round the Goyt. The Curlews have been back for at least a week now (probably longer) so we thought we would go and have a listen. The wind was too strong however and the only sighting was of a pair that flew close to the hillside behind a ridge avoiding the wind with that characteristic slightly chaotic flight that they have. We tramped alone together up the steep slope that leads to the disused railway track and managed to find a sheltered spot out of the wind. We sipped tea and were rewarded by the call of a solitary curlew somewhere down in the valley. We walked briskly back to the car trying to keep warm as the wind found all the little uncovered spots. A kestrel braved the wind to hunt, but I guess it has no choice as no hunting means starvation. On the way home we popped into the supermarket to get somethings for lunch.
I though that given the time of the year this poem had a sort of appropriateness. Its by Philip Larkin from The Whitsun Weddings, published in 1954.
Water
If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water
Going to Church
Would entail a fording
To dry, different clothes;
My liturgy would employ
Images of sousing
A furious devout drench,
And I should raise in the east
A glass of water
Where any-angled light
Would congregate endlessly.
