26th August 2023

On August 26, 2023October 10, 2023 By Mick CanningIn birds, seasons, trees, weather39 Comments

I tested one of the few apples on our tree in the middle of the month to see how ripe it was, and it came away from the branch easily. We shouldn’t be picking apples in mid-August, surely? But it’s a poor year, too. There are barely a dozen apples on the tree, whereas last year we must have had at least five times as many. And our crab apple, usually weighed down with fruit which we leave in situ for the birds over winter, is almost equally bare. Our neighbour’s Rowan tree looks beautiful, although Rowan trees always do, but it definitely has fewer berries on it than usual. Our Hazel tree also seems to have far fewer nuts than last year.

And in the wild?

Bit of a mixed bag, really. Some of the hazel trees near us are fairly heaving with nuts, while others have very few. The oaks have a good crop of acorns, but nothing on last year when the woodland floor was covered an inch or two deep. But last year was a spectacularly good mast year. This year the hawthorns have a decent amount of berries but nothing special, much like the elders, while the hollies seem to be loading up with a whole mass of them. That, at least, is the picture in my little corner of South East England. Last winter was quite mild. But even should we have a harsh winter this year, the outlook for wildlife seems not too bad from the nuts and berries perspective.

These things do often seem to follow a cycle of alternate years, although I don’t know why that should be. I had thought the apple blossom was a little late this year, but I really don’t know whether that’s just my imagination.

On Tuesday evening I went for a short walk. It had been a hot day and earlier I had seen three tiger moths, which was rather a treat. By the time I left the house, though, a little before eight, the air was cool, the birdsong seemed a little louder than usual, and there was a magical light in the sky as the sun disappeared below the horizon. The church clock struck eight as it did so. In the woods, there were now patches of sudden night where the trees grew close together, through which the path could be seen like a pale wisp of misty light. By the time the church clock chimed the quarter hour it was quite dark, although patches of daylight still showed in the clearings. Soon there was so little light I headed out of the woods and homeward.

A few minutes before half past, a mixed flock of jackdaws and rooks flew over, the jackdaws chuckling and gossiping noisily as usual as they headed east towards their gathering place on the edge of the town. There, they will be joined by other flocks and once all are there, just before dark, they will all fly off together to their night’s roost.

Although it is still August, the air already seems to have an autumnal feel to it.

What’s In A Name?

On August 22, 2023 By Mick CanningIn attitudes, family history37 Comments

My Great Grandfather moved from rural Hampshire to London sometime in the late 1870’s, during the course of which he changed his surname first from Prater to Cannon, and then to Canning. We don’t know the reason why, but I suspect a family rift of some sort. Whatever the reason, from that point onwards our family were Cannings, rather than Praters.

Great Grandad pictured in 1904 in East Ham, London.

So really, my name should be Mick Prater.

But it isn’t.

Does it matter? In any way at all?

Of course it doesn’t.

And this, I think, illustrates the absurdity of those – primarily men – who think it is of paramount importance that the family name is continued. I know this supposedly gives a kind of spurious immortality to family members but, really, it’s a nonsense.

Silbury Hill

On August 18, 2023 By Mick CanningIn archaeology, myth, Pre-History, Silbury Hill, wiltshire27 Comments

Silbury Hill, located a few miles from Avebury in Wiltshire, is the largest artificial mound in Europe, roughly the same size as the contemporaneous Egyptian pyramids, although it puts me more in mind of the Mexican pyramids. At 39m high and 160m wide and built of chalk, it was a colossal undertaking for the time – it was completed approximately four thousand four hundred years ago. Yet its purpose remains unknown; apparently it contains no burial, although folklore ascribes to it the final resting place of King Sil. Other theories connect it with the Goddess, and others yet suggest it as an observatory or sundial, although since Stonehenge was already in existence at the time of its construction, albeit in an earlier form as a henge monument, it seems highly unlikely that so much effort would have been put into the building of a mere mound, no matter how huge, if that was intended as its sole purpose.

Archaeological evidence suggests it was constructed over around a hundred years and there was probably a track spiralling around the hill to the top – used both in its construction and then afterwards to access the top of the hill which appeared to originally be flat. And that there was a constant tweaking of the shape over the following years, as though succeeding generations each felt the need to make their mark on the site.

Allowing for the fact it would have been a little higher due to the effects of weathering over the last four thousand years, it would have been as high as the nearby hills, Waden Hill and Knoll Down, but the difference would have been striking, since this perfectly shaped mound would have been dazzlingly white. The effect of the hill on anyone approaching would have been remarkable. Imagine it gleaming like a snow-covered mountain in the sunshine, or glowing mysteriously at night in a thin moonlight.

This isn’t something a tribe decided to do because they had some time on their hands – they’d had a good day’s hunting and the roof had been fixed, so why not? And not something just done on a whim – ‘You know, I like this place, but I really rather fancy putting a large hill just over there.’ This was a long term project, literally a lifetime’s work. And it was intended as one heck of a statement. Like a Medieval cathedral or Trump Tower, it was intended to be seen from a long way away and admired and talked about, although which of those two did it resemble? Was it the narcissistic project of an egotistical power-hungry madman or was it intended to glorify something greater than them?

On balance, I suspect the latter. Even if the project was begun by one strong-minded individual intent on somehow making a name for himself, it wouldn’t have been completed until long after his (or her) death, suggesting there was still a strong driving-force to complete the project.

But this is an area absolutely heaving with ancient monuments. Although Stonehenge is some twenty miles to the south, West Kennet long barrow is less than a mile away, Avebury Henge and stone circles only slightly further, and within the immediate landscape there are any number of burial mounds and standing stones. By any standard, this is a prehistoric landscape, and the visitor here must be looking at the evidence of ancient societies for whom memory and ritual were of great importance and significance.

I said earlier that there is no evidence of burials in the hill, yet all that means is that surveys have not revealed any chambers within the mound, or back-filled tunnels that might have been used to access the same. Yet I do wonder whether the entire structure might have been raised over the burial of an important personage. Perhaps future generations will find out.

In Another Lifetime I Could Have Been…(4)

On August 14, 2023 By Mick CanningIn choice, lifestyle30 Comments

…not anything I wanted to be, because that’s not true. Like everyone else, I have my limitations. Plenty of them. I’m sure we all play this game sometimes, even if it’s only in the form of ‘I wish I’d done so-and-so instead of the boring / hateful / planet-destroying job I’m doing now’, but it’s rather pointless wishing one had trained as an astrophysicist when one is aware one left school at sixteen after barely scraping through their GCSE’s. Or wishing one had become a Premier League footballer when one knows perfectly well they have no real aptitude for the game and aren’t particularly agile. I’m not sure whether I’m guilty of over-thinking this, but I get annoyed by the plethora of adverts nowadays aimed at both children and adults proclaiming ‘You can be whatever you want to be!’ or ‘There are no limits to your ambition!’ or the like, and I think a lot of people are just being set up for failure, or to think they are failures, which is frequently worse.

Yeah, I guess I might have been a bicycle rickshaw driver. Who can say?

But let’s change tack a little, here. While a tiny part of me does wish I’d knuckled down and made an attempt to become an established folk musician (post 1), I’m not sure I’d ever have really wanted to be a tramp or a monk in this lifetime. Although I can certainly see the attraction of being a hermit! But I am relatively happy with the various jobs I’ve ended up doing, and looking back if I could have picked another career path, I’m not sure what would have been my chosen one (from my perspective of now). I reckon I’d have been happy as an archaeologist, a stone- or wood-carver, or some other sort of artist. But these choices obviously reflect my current interests. Ask me again in ten years time, and I might well give a different answer.

And you knew it was coming, didn’t you? What would be your ideal career if you could go back and do it all again?

Venice – 2

On August 5, 2023 By Mick CanningIn Italy, photographs, travel, Venice24 Comments

I put a few photos of Venice up on here a long time ago. Today I fancied putting up a few more. We’ve been to Venice just the once, and really enjoyed it. We saw it in the sun and in the rain. Both were beautiful. We should probably go again before it sinks.