Yetismith posted: " 0935/27th February 2023 If the ten-day outlook is to be believed, we shall not be seeing a clear blue sky for some time and precipitation will vary from snow to rain with intermittent freezing. When we got to the clinic yesterday, I was compelled " CatsinCambridge
If the ten-day outlook is to be believed, we shall not be seeing a clear blue sky for some time and precipitation will vary from snow to rain with intermittent freezing.
When we got to the clinic yesterday, I was compelled to photograph the icicles since, as you may know, ice is another of my fascinations.
We had started out early in case of school buses etc, but our path was not impeded.
It was lovely to see sunlight touching the hilltops.
A week ago when we did the same trip, we started out in darkness.
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If Winter is my season, dawn is my time of day.
Or sunset. (1725/26th February above)
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The gentle light and peaceful quiet of early morning has always lifted my heart.
The dawn chorus and other natural sounds are so soothing.
When I was by the sea, I loved the rush of waves up a nearby beach and the rustling of palm fronds brushed by a cool breeze.
When I was 8, my dad took a job with UNESCO and we went to live in Cambodia. When he took time off, he drove us to the sea at Kep, including this particular time when the fan belt on his Citroen broke.
It was the dry season, so water was very scarce and help even more so. As I recall, he managed to scoop up a little muddy water which was all that remained in the paddy fields.
As you can see, I reclined in the back of the car during this exercise, the excuse being that one never wanted to interact with Dad when he was vexed.
Such as on this occasion.
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From Kep, fishermen took us to an off-shore island for the day.
The boats were as in this 1956 photograph. The sail was constructed of palm fronds. No noisy motor boats around in those days.
The crossing took however long it took, depending on the wind. It was lovely. I enjoyed hearing the two fisherman conversing in Khmer which I didn't need to understand. It was a happy exchange. There was laughter in the words.
The first time we went was not long after arriving from England. Frolicking in the warm Gulf of Thailand was an absolute delight.
In England, severe asthma had kept me inactive. To find myself free of this affliction was the most amazing gift and I sat playing in the waves far too long, acquiring a bad sunburn.
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Not as bad, however, as the burn my father got some months later when he decided to spend the afternoon walking around the island which turned out to be a lot larger than he realised.
We were due to sail back in the late afternoon. No sight of Dad. My mother was first annoyed, then increasingly anxious. The fishermen indicated we should get in the boat and sail around the island to intercept my dad.
A fierce storm had blown up. We were not getting in that small boat on that sea! So we waited and one of the boatmen went off to look for the foolish Englishman. It got dark.
Mum was in tears when finally a light approached down the beach. There was a rather frosty exchange of words, then we quickly embarked and set sail onto the now becalmed sea. Our moonlit crossing took something like three hours.
We were staying with an American friend who was in a state of concern, wondering how to go about mounting a search for us. Which added to my father's discredit!
He paid over the next few days, unable to walk due to sun poisoning around his ankles.
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How did we get from snowy New York to the Gulf of Thailand?
It was not my intention to take you there, though I suspect you might quite like it there at this time of year.
It was thoughts of early mornings and the peaceful natural sounds of that sea which were etched into my brain 67 years ago, so deeply that the smallest reminder calls them up.
There were other experiences connected with that seaside town where I returned to boarding school, years later. They were less than happy, but there is no emotion attached to those memories.
It has long been obliterated by the joy of those other times.
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