Glasson Dock Revisited.

Glasson dock steeped in sunshine, the echo of the empty space that was the Babagee. Barges and boats and banter of family gatherings shimmers across the water beyond the broken hulls. The old stones of the lockgate still holds the memory of your footsteps.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for the Quadrille with d’Verse hosted by Grace tonight, Still is the prompt and it is on there somewhere. The image is from Wikimedia and is of the derelict Babagee before it was demolished.

d’Verse quadrille

 

Fear receding….

The transition to seaside life has been a total joy. However dark and difficult the long days of winter were with their obstacles barriers and uncertainties and the fears that we would somehow fail. There was always a small smattering of hope that things would eventually work out for the better. We have been able to rekindle our love for our own culture and connections, track back through pathways and places that were already part of our story and re-establish the significance of our own place in this wonderful landscape.

The move in springtime to Heysham has been a wonderful and welcome move into what promises to be a pleasant phase of our lives. The sea and scenery are endless sources of peace, calm and serenity. The joy to be able to walk and witness this place in all its beauty and glory for just a small part of each day is genuine food for the soul. There is a song by Groove Armada it is such a seaside song, it talks of sand-dunes and salty air and it is just the sentiment of this place, a seaside town resting on its laurels and trying to reinvent itself as the coastal jewel in the crown resting at the foothills of the Lake District. Mountains on the horizon, resplendent in a salmon sunset, windmills stretching out to sea as far as the eye can see,  ancient history carved into the headland and wilderness, wind and wavespray.

Mid tide Glasson Dock

In sprightly spring-time sunshine

Fear and dark thoughts ebb

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

This is my late offering for Haibun Monday and is about fear receding.

d”verse Haibun

 

oops just missed the link by 35 minutes…

The Ghost of Winter past.

I remember the soft snowflakes

Delicate as lace

Framed by the cold frigid moonlight

Falling gently to the ground.

Shrouding the world in a pure white blanket

Which sought to cleanse another winter

 

But pure white turned to grey

And the peaceful night became another dirty day.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

snow-1350948_1280

This is my contribution for d’Verse open night.

The image is from pixabay,

Openlink night

 

 

Windmills and wave-spray.

This changing landscape

Is food for the soul

Misty moody blues beyond the ruins of St Patrick’s

Hues of sand and stone beyond the headland’s horizon

The mysterious mudflats home to the sandwalker of Morecambe Bay.

Wish you were here Heysham.

Alison Jean Hankinson

Hall all this is my postcard….d’Verse poetics

Kestrel

common_kestrel_in_flight

Virtue her’s is beauty

She hesitates then pounces

And in a flounce of majesty

A reverie of gracefulness

Swoops to savage the delicacies of a dew-sodden dawn

Reap the rewards of a cold rancid morn.

 

Narcotic silence

Renders love unto my soul

Removes the talons from my heart

Her beauty numbs the pain of death.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

d’Verse open link

This is for the open link night at d’verse.

The image is  Common Kestrel in flight from wikimedia.

Sunset on Mount Tiger

A house is not a home if it isn’t in your heart.

A house is not a home if it isn’t the place that lifts your dreams

And makes you smile and puts the gladness in your eyes

When the sun sinks in the west and the summer lingers on.

 

Our Mount Tiger home was filled with love and kindness

They all belonged, the children laughing, the turbid teens,

The thieving possums, lonely pheasants and quirky quails,

The irritating huhu bugs, mesmerising puriri moths and startled skinks.

 

Our house was small but wore a warm place in our  hearts

Our lives were kneaded and fashioned and left to prove in the sun.

Going home at the end of the day was like a long slow sigh

As the work was left behind and we were back where we belonged.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

d’Verse poetics

The challenge for poetics was to write about a building and we were really supposed to create it. This was our home on Mount Tiger, a small rectangular box atop a hill with a steep acre of bush, and we were the visitors the custodians of the land, we shared our home and landscape with all who had come before us and thrived around us. We had lavender for the bees, wildflowers for the butterflies, cabbages for the caterpillars, and I think the birds and rabbits lived off my vegetable garden. It was a beautiful home for my family to grow up in. We didn’t build it but we did grow it.

 

Williamson Park

 

Today was a beautiful and delightful segue into Spring. The sun shone, the snowdrops have given way to Crocus and the trees are beginning to bud. Early flowers on cherry blossoms. We took a walk through Williamson Park, to blow the cobwebs away and drink in the beauty of Lancaster and the Bay. It was a trip down memory lane and fourteen years since we had last walked here.

We made our way to the Ashton memorial and the butterfly house to relax in the sunshine in the outdoor cafeteria, our last visit had been as Spring gave way to summer in 2003, it was May bank holiday weekend and the sun had shone and whilst it wasn’t quite warm enough for short sleeves we had no need for coats. It had been a poignant stroll as my husband was about to embark on a six-month compulsory stint in war-torn Iraq. We absorbed everything we could from the moment and the natural beauty of the vista in front of us knowing that it was a place of special significance to us- I had been able to see the park and the Ashton memorial from the maternity ward when the girls were born. It was energising to return and see it anew having been away for so long.

The Butterfly house
our stunning memorial
Cherry blossom sings

Alison Jean Hankinson

d’Verse

For Haibun Monday at D’Verse. Toni challenged us to immerse ourselves in nature. I know my nature also has buildings but to me buildings are part of what I see as a natural landscape.