Header image change

Just as you were getting used to the summer picture of the bucolic Mellor landscape, along comes winter. A seasonal header seems more appropriate, now where’s that poetry anthology for an appropriate tag line? Readers suggestions perhaps….


About Moorendman

A traveller through life who reads a great many of peoples works whilst self teaching himself.
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5 Responses to Header image change

  1. HK Bingo says:

    How delightfully seasonal.

    Walking in to work today I was nearly, just nearly, not too warm in shirt and trousers (obviously no suit jacket). But then I was too warm.

    Not great with poetry. Did Good King Wenceslas ever visit Mellor?

  2. HK Bingo says:

    Unless you count a little known author named William Wordsworth, of whom I too have read a great many works: “like an army defeated, the snow hath retreated”

    Or perhaps Shakespeare, a quote I often use and find extremely handy for everyday use: “O that I were a mockery king of snow, Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke To melt myself away in water drops!”

  3. HK Bingo says:

    And aaaah yes, lest I forget.

    The late, great Ted(dy) Hughes. Poet Laureate no less


    by Ted Hughes

    Snow is sometimes a she, a soft one.
    Her kiss on your cheek, her finger on your sleeve
    In early December, on a warm evening,
    And you turn to meet her, saying “It”s snowing!”
    But it is not. And nobody”s there.
    Empty and calm is the air.

    Sometimes the snow is a he, a sly one.
    Weakly he signs the dry stone with a damp spot.
    Waifish he floats and touches the pond and is not.
    Treacherous-beggarly he falters, and taps at the window.
    A little longer he clings to the grass-blade tip
    Getting his grip.

    Then how she leans, how furry foxwrap she nestles
    The sky with her warm, and the earth with her softness.
    How her lit crowding fairylands sink through the space-silence
    To build her palace, till it twinkles in starlight—
    Too frail for a foot
    Or a crumb of soot.

    Then how his muffled armies move in all night
    And we wake and every road is blockaded
    Every hill taken and every farm occupied
    And the white glare of his tents is on the ceiling.
    And all that dull blue day and on into the gloaming
    We have to watch more coming.

    Then everything in the rubbish-heaped world
    Is a bridesmaid at her miracle.
    Dunghills and crumbly dark old barns are bowed in the chapel of her sparkle.
    The gruesome boggy cellars of the wood
    Are a wedding of lace
    Now taking place.

  4. HK Bingo says:

    These are mere snippets. Small musings from the thoughts of Skateboard Bingo.

    All entirely off the top of my head, absolutely from recollection and certainly not a result of a hasty google search with “snow”and the 4 literary greats I could think of (Chaucer didn’t seem to say much of interest about the snow)

  5. Moorendman says:

    Very good, especially like the Ted Hughes one, the couplet:
    “And we wake and every road is blockaded
    Every hill taken and every farm occupied”

    need to give this one some thought

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