P4OHKA32FWQ6TRIVXYFF5U7E4A
Kestrel dives for lunch - Manea bird hides.
The bird hides of Manea is a wonderful place to go bird watching. Especially in autumn when the River Delph floods the fen.
The unwelcome winter austerity.
I view the approach of winter with sadness. The autumn is here and everything is dying. My wife and I always take a holiday in winter because we don’t feel the need of one during summer. The Fenland is always marvellous then and why leave the area at such a glorious time? But it is October now and our garden is fading. Once there was something here. But it fell into decline. The dazzling glory of the summer months is gone. The fall our floral empire. The garden will become a sad ruin. Still, a cruise to the Cannery Islands in December and trips to York and London during January will break down the cold season nicely. By the time this is done, the spring will come around again. New ideas and more time for the garden and the surrounding Fens.
We are fortunate not to have too many severe winters in the East Anglia area of Britain. We get the odd snowfall in the winter, but even these are unusual. There has not been one in the last five or six years. Not one that people could speak of. In the Fenland, where I live, the whole area is mostly rural and sparsely populated compared to other parts of England. The entire region is given over to farming and food processing. In the winter, the fields become ploughed expanses of mud. As far as the eye can see. There is nothing but derelict furrowed fields awaiting spring. The scattered copses of trees are all bare against dull grey skies with groups of Crows, Ravens and Rooks flying about. We see all of this from our living room window. For a few brief weeks, all is void of greenery.
All looks still and desolate in the morning mist as I go to work. Within the bleakness is a feeling of isolation. The biggest town called Wisbech no longer has a railway station. It was closed down during the Beeching reports of the 1960s. Sometimes the Fenland feels a little cut-off. But then this has its charm for many, in an inadvertent way. The feeling of being out of sight and out of mind. I suppose I’m trying to paint a picture of the worse aspect of rural living before I get to the kind parts. Well, even this dreary time has many wicked charms if one chooses to venture out.
Kestrel dives for lunch - Manea bird hides.
The bird hides of Manea is a wonderful place to go bird watching. Especially in autumn when the River Delph floods the fen.
The unwelcome winter austerity.
I view the approach of winter with sadness. The autumn is here and everything is dying. My wife and I always take a holiday in winter because we don’t feel the need of one during summer. The Fenland is always marvellous then and why leave the area at such a glorious time? But it is October now and our garden is fading. Once there was something here. But it fell into decline. The dazzling glory of the summer months is gone. The fall our floral empire. The garden will become a sad ruin. Still, a cruise to the Cannery Islands in December and trips to York and London during January will break down the cold season nicely. By the time this is done, the spring will come around again. New ideas and more time for the garden and the surrounding Fens.
We are fortunate not to have too many severe winters in the East Anglia area of Britain. We get the odd snowfall in the winter, but even these are unusual. There has not been one in the last five or six years. Not one that people could speak of. In the Fenland, where I live, the whole area is mostly rural and sparsely populated compared to other parts of England. The entire region is given over to farming and food processing. In the winter, the fields become ploughed expanses of mud. As far as the eye can see. There is nothing but derelict furrowed fields awaiting spring. The scattered copses of trees are all bare against dull grey skies with groups of Crows, Ravens and Rooks flying about. We see all of this from our living room window. For a few brief weeks, all is void of greenery.
All looks still and desolate in the morning mist as I go to work. Within the bleakness is a feeling of isolation. The biggest town called Wisbech no longer has a railway station. It was closed down during the Beeching reports of the 1960s. Sometimes the Fenland feels a little cut-off. But then this has its charm for many, in an inadvertent way. The feeling of being out of sight and out of mind. I suppose I’m trying to paint a picture of the worse aspect of rural living before I get to the kind parts. Well, even this dreary time has many wicked charms if one chooses to venture out.