A couple of flowering Camellia japonica trees brighten up the churchyard of St Peter's Church in Delamere.
Life and death side by side.
A couple of flowering Camellia japonica trees brighten up the churchyard of St Peter's Church in Delamere.
Life and death side by side.
Flowers of the common pear tree, captured on my photo walk from Delamere to Kelsall last month.
It's already been a week since I returned from Delamere.
I managed to edit the above photo and a couple of others for a separate post before I travelled down to sit my regulars in Bromley on Wednesday evening. I'd hoped to write this post while there, but you know how sometimes you don't realise how tired you are until you stop? That.
So, I'm writing this on my one full day at home after my return from Bromley and before I head up to Glasgow for the best part of a week.
For my second trip courtesy of Avanti West Coast (well, technically, my third, as I booked it last and it was the 'bonus' trip I would give up if I couldn't afford the accommodation or my leave request was refused, but chronologically, it was the second), I opted to return to Manchester.
I figured that, as I'd visited the city quite a few times already, I wouldn't lose anything if I had to give it up, and it was a sufficient distance to justify the enjoyment of a first-class seat.
I looked at Airbnb options in and around the city but couldn't find any that stood out. I had decided I would, most likely, stay in a hotel at Media City. But I would also keep an eye out for pet sittings in and around Manchester in case something suitable popped up to avoid me having to pay for accommodation.
I booked my train tickets and annual leave in mid-January, and then in late February, a couple of possible sittings came up through Trusted Housesitters and I applied for both.
To my joy and surprise, I received a positive reply to one of the applications the morning after I applied, with the invitation to a virtual meet and greet in early March. And I received an invitation to sit from the other, mere hours after the first pet parent responded.
While I would happily have spent a long weekend entertaining and being entertained by a corgi called Winston in Manchester itself, I held out for the virtual meet and greet with the owner of a cat, Peter, and (wait for it...) two peacocks, Bowie and Mercury, in a cottage near the village of Delamere in Cheshire, about an hour and ten minutes on the train from Manchester.
I was apprehensive about the prospect of sitting peacocks, but the location, the cottage and the opportunity to experience such things, were too good for me not to apply and find out more.
Long story short: my hour-and-a-half phone call with the pets' parent reassured me I wasn't taking on something I couldn't handle, and I was pleased to be offered the sit.
Peter the cat is a dentist, so I can't show you his face.
Or rather, for privacy reasons, I can't share photos of the pets I sat or the home I stayed in. But I will share plenty of photos from my time exploring a stretch of the Sandstone Trail, the nearby Delamere Forest, the walk up the Old Pale hill, and my walk between Delamere Railway Station, Delamare, Oakmere and Kelsall villages over the coming months (or years, knowing me).
The peacocks are beautiful creatures and seemed to warm to me over the few days I was there, though not enough to feed from my hand. I was less comfortable with the Angus bulls I encountered, though thankfully, none charged me. Sir Peter was an absolute sweetheart, and probably the snuggliest cat I've ever encountered.
The above photo was taken near the junction of the Sandstone Trail with the path from Delamere Railway Station.
The weather was somewhat unpredictable, with strong winds and short-lived showers creeping up on me, but I managed to experience some lovely spring weather and even get a bit of colour in my face (and my freckles came out) on my last full day wandering. It was a few degrees cooler than London, at about 7-9 degrees each day, but with a coat, mittens and leg warmers, and the body heat generated by walking, it was quite pleasant, and on the last day, more like sweater weather once I was moving.
I hope to return to sit those beautiful beasties again and explore more of the local area. I decided to forego wandering the forest itself, as on the Sunday I was there, every man and his dog and child (literally) was out doing just that. And Delamere is a perfect spot to explore nearby villages and venture further afield to Chester, Liverpool and Manchester.
Some Prunus cerasifera flowers I captured last Saturday during a solo photo walk in Hitchin.
Spring is coming.
So, it's been a year since Mum passed. Well, kind of.
I mean, she died at 06:10 on 1 March 2023 AEDT, but for me, that means her time of death was actually 19:10 GMT on 28 February 2023.
So, for me, that should mean the anniversary of her passing was on 28 February 2024.
Except that this year is a leap year, so 06:10 AEDT on 1 March 2024 was 19:10 GMT on 29 February 2024.
Confused yet?
If I base the anniversary on the date she passed away in Australia (as that's where she was), then I'm posting this late. But it's still only 1 March 2024 here in London, so I guess I get longer to mark the anniversary.
Has anyone noticed I possess a certain sentimentality and a penchant for marking such important dates at precisely the right moment?
Though I didn't have a chance to post about it at either of the potentially recognised moments, it's been on my mind for some time, particularly during the evening on 28 February when it felt like I should acknowledge the passing of a year since her death.
Dad and I acknowledged the anniversary within the hour of her passing on 1 March 2024, his time, in our family WhatsApp chat.
Yesterday afternoon, a little before and a little after my day's sitting with Francois ended, and before I left for my first sitting of the year with my regulars, I edited these two photos to share with this post acknowledging the anniversary.
Although I don't think she had any particular preference for daffodils (I don't remember them appearing often within bouquets she bought or received), her death will now be inextricably linked to them in my mind because of her passing on St David's Day and, in particular, because of her Welsh ancestry.
So, I was already thinking ahead to today when I photographed these two specimens in Frank's backyard the last weekend I sat him in mid-February. Knowing there would be photographs of daffodils as part of my tribute to her this year, as I have access to very few photos of her, and most I've already shared. While thinking ahead to the date and time conundrum as the impact of this leap year had already occurred to me by then.
One thing I didn't get to do while I was visiting Dad was to pore over their photo albums. Two weeks isn't a long time when you're working part-time, sorting through your deceased mother's personal effects and catching up with family you haven't seen in person in about three years.
I didn't know how I would feel one year on. If I'm honest, I still don't.
I mean, there's definitely been a sea of emotions surging around me for the past week or so.
I initially hoped to write my thoughts on the "exact" anniversary (for me). But practical matters had to be dealt with. So, instead, I sort of softly welled up thinking about it without having the time or capacity to put the feelings into words. But knowing I would when I could.
I know it's cliched to say it feels like less than a year, but in the same breath, to say it feels more than a year. But it does.
It's been less than a year since we said goodbye as a family and scattered her ashes.
It's been more than a year since she and I last spoke. Or rather, I spoke to her, as she didn't have many words left by then.
So, the passing of time since her passing has been warped and bent. Though that's not uncommon. I know others feel similarly about the passing of their loved ones, even without the added confusion of leap years interfering with their marking of time.
I wrote a lot about her last year. And I don't doubt I will write more in time. I took photos while visiting my family in Australia that triggered memories, anecdotes, and so forth that I hope to capture in words. Some I'll capture for myself. Others I'll share.
In the meantime, as Spring drags its feet returning to England, the daffodils rush in and bloom on the verges and traffic islands, in suburban gardens, central London parks, cemeteries, the local supermarket, the vase in the entry to our building placed there by my Welsh neighbour who lives downstairs. And in my mind.
For Mum. In her memory.
Some Cyclamen hederifolium I photographed in the churchyard of St Nicholas' Church in Arundel while visiting in September 2021.
An Aquilegia vulgaris (also known as common columbine, granny's nightcap and granny's bonnet) I photographed in Jo and Becky's backyard in Cotton End while sitting Meg and Mog in August 2022.
A Jacobaea vulgaris (also known as ragwort, common ragwort and stinking willie) I photographed in Jo and Becky's backyard in Cotton End while sitting Meg and Mog in August 2022.
To celebrate my thirteenth Londonversary, here's a photo of the feature of this fair city I spent the most time photographing in 2023: the New River (not new, not a river).
In this case, captured in Palmers Green.