30 May 2016

30th May 2016 Getting a [real] man in.


Monday 30th 63-77F, 17-25C, windy from the east with increasing cloud cover. It should brighten up and be rather warm, but also rather windy, this afternoon. It's taking a bit of a chance starting a new post with only two days to go before May shuffles offstage. What will I find to talk about? I keep trying to probe my calf to find the exact source of the pain but it remains diffuse. Pain makes me feel old and vulnerable. But I will not be vulnerable! 

I am the one who heads off into the woods on solitary explorations without a qualm. Nor least doubt as to my ability to return unscathed from leaping vast chasms. Or fighting through endless bramble patches without so much as penknife let alone a machete. I am the "road warrior" who sets off on his ridiculous chariot rides to the other side of the island simply because he can. [When I am allowed out by The Head Gardener of course.] 

After a lifetime of lifting foolishly heavy objects, without strain, I suddenly "got a bad back" quite recently. One so painful that it stopped my self-inflicted heroics for over a week. Though I made a full recovery and feel far more flexible than I ever did before. No pain without gain! It still gives one pause. Imagine being stuck miles from home with the sudden onset of some unforeseen minor injury? These sorts of things are not supposed to happen to the hero of his own modern legends. He who has solo climbed, self-imposed mountains in every avenue of interest which casually brushed his imagination into some new conflagration.

Having to "get a man in" to do something minor to the house has never occurred before. He who owns all the ladders and all the tools does not easily bow to some "humble builder" to fix some trifle on the roof. The roof which this life story's very own superhero built himself working entirely alone after the Great Storm of '99. Or having "somebody in" to cut down the tree which threatens The Trike Shed during every ferocious sou-westerly which Denmark can throw at it. 

"Getting a man in" is not part of the hero's vocabulary in English. Let alone in pidgin Danish. It would be like handing my camera to a complete stranger and asking his to photograph the landscape. It just isn't done when you are the hero of your own, never-ending fable. I do not go lightly into my own sunset. Playing the old fart is not in my nature. An old clown perhaps, but clowning comes naturally to one who has never looked down. No abyss too deep to limit his endless dreams with mere cowardice. Failure was never an option in his own eyes. He prevailed and kept his suffering largely to himself. 

Only The Head Gardener knew the real truth. Knew how to measure the man in frail, human terms. Knew all his Achilles heels and much more besides. If only he had kept his mouth shut and played the invincible superhero to the bitter end. Superheroes should have no need of head gardeners doubling up as pretty nurses. With her sticking plasters and elastic bandages and sun cream and Tea Tree oil and medical advice gleaned from the internet! The "love interest" in any film fantasy is only supposed to be decorative. Placed there by casting to give the superhero a chance to talk about his exploits and his feelings. As they both stare off into some unimaginably distant vista with moist, blue eyes.

Hot and blowing a 40mph gale so I decided caution was the better part of valour.

Tuesday 31st 61-71F, 16-22C, overcast to cloudy and windy again. Sunshine and possible thundery showers promised.With my calf giving no pain this morning I decided to push my luck and walk my usual loop up through the woods and back along the road. I never felt so much as a twinge the whole way around depute tripping over brambles in the overgrown weeds blocking many of the rougher tracks.

A difficult scene to capture. The camera wanted to make the foreground crops much too dark and brightening the overall image robbed the superb sky of detail. I recommend making my landscape images as large as possible. All the better to enjoy the perspective. So L.Click and then try holding down Ctrl ++ to zoom in. You will lose some sharpness because the images have already been reduced from 3500 pixels/side to 1000 for posting on the blog. Ctr 0 or Ctrl -- will return everything back to normal size.

The gentle landscape is remarkably softened by the rapidly growing crops. With some of the usual views completely lost in some sunken places behind gently waving grasses. Two titanium white Shelducks were pottering beside a field pond but lost interest not long after I passed. I was too far away for them to have seen me without their borrowing my binoculars. The birds in the hedgerows were competing with overhead skylarks for sheer volume again. How skylarks find their nests twice in chest high crops is anybody's guess. A small black cat with staring blue eyes had no idea about concealment on the edge of a field a mile from the nearest house. I just hope it doesn't use the same technique on the roads! The vast mounds of felled, field hedging are now gone. Probably into the hungry maw of an industrial-sized wood chipper. I was tempted to explore the debris field for broken eggs but decided against it. In the absence of hedges the great mounds of drying tree stems and twigs had drawn many birds to them. Nature survives these small tragedies and moves on. Strength in numbers aids survival beyond the local mayhem.

With the threat of thundery showers this afternoon, it seemed sensible to ride to the shops after morning coffee. Again there were no problems with my calf. A buzzard circled tightly over the woods as I took the long way uphill to add a mile or three to the day's ride. The forest was just as beautiful as I ever remember seeing it. Though my camera has no skill at capturing the great depths of the sunlit scenes much beyond the foreground.

The power was out on my return. I had noticed the turbines were standing still despite the stiff north-easterly wind. Presumably they automatically feather their huge blades for safety reasons when the power goes off. Without electricity for auto-pitch control they might easily run away!

The Head Gardener had noticed the water pressure was right down too. So the blackout must have affected quite a wide area. Perhaps a lightning strike hit a substation or overhead cable? It feels very clammy and the sky has a threatening look about it. Luckily the power was soon back on again. Only 10 miles. It feels good to be mobile again.


No comments:

Post a Comment