Monday, June 22, 2015

I knew a little mermaid...


I knew a little mermaid, happy to hide teasingly away and play mischievious games of one kind or another...


With a hint of a smile, even when concealed...


And those eyes missing nothing... Be that near...


Or in the distance...


And of a colour brought out by all around, to startling effect...


That flowing hair, running down on land...


As in sea...


With a radiant smile, wherever, for the present moment...


 Or for future wishes...


Still there somewhere, despite the natural sea change with its tides and currents... The turmoil of teenage years...


Surely never that far off in time or space... You just need to know where to look. And then to wait and wait...

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Survival of the Fittest - Evil Weevils and Beastly Beetles...


Wow, the month of June has, so far, proved to be challenging on seemingly every front. As much of this cannot be changed, I am trying to change my reactions - away from the instinctive default mode of freak-out towards something else... Well, I am still working on that. All of this serves to underline the fact that you simply shouldn't assume that life issues are 'cut and dried'  because these are often very much 'alive and kicking' just waiting to surface, creeping out of the woodwork or undergrowth when you foolishly least expected it. I can use all the old clichés to talk of this because it's just so obvious, but I still forget these fundamentals.


All situations are in a continual process of change. What appears to be acquired is only so on borrowed time; what we think we possess is merely on loan - it's just that we don't realise that; at some point, we may well have to give up what we believe is 'ours'. Possessions and people can't really belong to us - we are just custodians, guardians or simply companions for a given time whose length is not necessarily established at any given moment. Despite our instinctive drive to settle, stabilize or seize, nothing can be truly immobilized and kept tight. It's all so obvious, but I all so obviously forgot, yet again, to my dismay.


Above all, things cannot stay as they are without some form of update or overhaul, and this is the way it should be since that is how Nature operates. No aspect of life is ever truly stationary, even if we try to persuade ourselves of the contrary. At 'best', there will be a cyclical movement, but there will always be some kind of modification that may destablize us, programmed as we are to hold onto an illusion of some static reality or other. That seems to be our most natural, instinctive response and yet perhaps a more 'Natural' reaction would be to let go, in certain circumstances at least, releasing our grip so that events may take their natural course. I do try to believe that left to their natural devices, some things will veer towards a new, appropriate balance, righting themselves as they find the right course, even though that direction may initially seem wrong to us.


Nature's instinct is towards survival and the perpetuation of what is, hopefully, positive, in one way or another. By extension, I force myself to consider that some of the difficulties naturally encountered in life may serve to help us appraise our own situation and selves and lead us to evolve somehow. Perhaps certain moments of uncertainty and or upheaval should be viewed as challenging opportunites to be treated with a little more curiosity and rather less apprehension.  Well, that's the theory, at least, but one that is indeed a challenge in itself... I am trying to learn from all these moments right now, and to concentrate on the solutions or adaptations to make, instead of the issue itself. Well, trying to do so... I do think it will be a long time before I get to the stage when I face life changes with an expression of wonder and welcoming.


So onto another subject, but linked by Nature....

Indeed, sometimes, there can be a little too much of Nature and its processes. In this case, it concerns the surviving and thriving of certain living forms. I noticed some unassuming, dull-black beetles on my balcony a few weeks ago, trundling around, aimably and aimlessly, or so it seemed. I remarked to myself that Nature was indeed remarkable since these humble creatures had somehow made their way up to a fifth-floor flat and appeared to have settled in. Encounters with spiders or any other common-or-garden 'creepy-crawly' have never induced panic in me or any type of hysterical response and I once even happily got up close and personal with a sizeable stag beetle with very impressive 'antlers' to show the children... So I just left these homely settlers to get on with their business, whatever that was. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for me to work out what that business actually was.

The extensive ivy-filled 'trough' plant container that runs the length of the façade of my flat has indeed become a feeding trough for these beetles that have an appetite that their modest size belies. They have proved to be voracious grazers who have turned their attentions from the now ragged, tattered ivy leaves to any foliage they may come across. Although these greedy guests do not possess wings, they are formidable walkers, brazenly wandering in front of me, without the slightest qualm. They will, however, play dead if they are dislodged and will promptly fall to the ground, beached on their backs in a state of rigor mortis. Do not be fooled by their histrionics; they make a full recovery if swift action is not taken. A quick Google of the question "What is eating my ivy?" soon revealed the identity of my not-so-friendly fellow gardener. The adult Vine Weevil assumes the beetle form that I have now become fully acquainted with, and yet its marauding life style is nothing compared to that of its youthful, larval self. These larvae will happily grow from the hundreds of eggs that each hermaphroditic female lays in soil, and then proceed to feed on a plant's entire root system as they develop slowly but surely, or simply overwinter in order to give your garden the ultimate spring-clean. I have looked at the ways of parting company with this unwanted companion, but this makes for depressing reading.

Ragged passion flower leaves (not so popular with the beetles, fortunately).
These beetles truly are stream-lined examples of Nature's ability to adapt and thrive. I do not like the French 'Agent Orange' approach to recalcitrant garden pests, but even I have been obliged to arm myself with pesticides that nevertheless offer little hope of eradicating the evil weevil. The only immediate solution I have at hand, is indeed my rubber-gloved hands, with which I unceremonioulsy get to grips with the enemy. As the beetles are nocturnal-gnawers, emerging as the sun sets, ready to wreak havoc, I duly make incursions into the occupied territory at regular intervals during the night. I initially tried to be fauna-friendly, by simply throwing them over the balcony to give them a fair chance, but in view of their horrifying numbers and great climbing ability I soon recalled that "All is fair in Love and War" and resorted to more basic forms of beetle-bashing. And yes, they do make a rather satisfying crunchy noise when squashed, and practice does indeed make perfect.

During my ten-day Coleoptera cull, I heard about a natural solution to this problem, namely the use of nematodes but it might be a little late for that now, as I have nuked the soil with all those noxious chemicals. So now I am waiting to see what is going to emerge. As the larvae are truly hideous, Alien-like creatures (ie. of maggot form with a cluster of arm-like appendages), I do not wish to probe into the plant containers, with or without rubber gloves.






Perhaps if the vine beetle had been more attractive, I would have been a little more tolerant. Well, probably not, but I certainly would have kept their shells.


Opposite is all that remains of a beautiful beetle necklace that I brought back from Ecuador years ago, and would have still treasured today, had larvae of the furniture carpet beetle not infested it, duly devouring parts of it, as they do with anything containing keratin or other forms of animal protein. Moths are usually blamed for the damage of felt, woollen clothing and the like, but in fact the culprit is none other than this larva that goes under the somewhat inappropriate title of 'woolly bear'!

The beauty of beetle shells or wings - the 'elytra' - has long been recognized and drawn upon, but no more so than with the amazing beetle-wing dress worn by the actress Ellen Terry for her performance as Lady Macbeth on a London stage in 1888. The vision of this dress inspired the American artist John Singer Sargent to paint the portrait of the actress in dramatic stance, wearing, of course, the infamous, irridescent gown.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AEllen_Terry_as_Lady_Macbeth_with_frame.jpg
Daylight is now fading, so I shall have to prepare myself for another hunting session on the balcony battlefield. Actually the whole insect incident has momentarily kept my mind off those other matters which have emerged, unexpected and unwanted, and are rather more troublesome than pest-ridden plants...


Cats certainly know a thing or two about dealing with any kind of irksome issue - simply finding the optimal position, radiating a form of contentment that we can only dream of, all the while keeping a nonchalant gaze on the world going by...


Sunday, May 31, 2015

White and Gold along the Canal...




I finally got off to my first bike ride along the canal... Here I enjoyed the flowers, grasses and trees that all seemed to be enjoying the (long-awaited) sun...


It was the white and yellow that caught my eye this time... and gold!


Although there was the bright red of the poppies, pink from campion and purple from vetch - along with all that green...


Sadly, I can't remember many of the names of flowers and plants any more, or seem to have replaced the English word for a French one, but I did recognize the above as white bladder campion...


And these as oxe-eye daisies, however, after that things started to get more blurred... I initially thought these below were plain white campion, but I'm not so sure of that now...


Meanwhile elderberry flowers were everywhere - like huge luminous discs at a distance...


And yet so intricate up close...


Although I made my usual 'error' of looking too closely at the details and missing the bigger landscape, it did pay off as I came across these wild strawberries... Which I then went on to eat!


 I had no trouble identifying the mustard flowers that had scented the air along the tracks...


And alongside the canal itself...


The water had its 'usual' unusual green/blue colour...


This always reminds me of the water-filled quarries we used to be drawn to as children... And reminds me again that the canal is here for a purpose...


Vital for the transportation of goods, past and present...


Today, as always, the waterway acts as bait to the fishermen but its paths also provide jogging and sport addicts with the means of a convenient fix, and offers escape to the Sunday strollers, skaters and cylists of all shapes and sizes...


But also provides a dose a nature...


Which I always like looking at - up close - and wondering how such simple things can be so beautiful.

Friday, May 8, 2015

Reims - 7th May 2015 - Celebration of Peace

Last night I went to the big commemorative light-and-sound display that took place on Place de la République here in Reims. This was, of course, to remember the end of the WWII and was held on Thursday 7th May as it was on this date, in the early hours of the morning 70 years ago, that the unconditional surrender of the German Wehrmacht was officially signed. Indeed, this historic act was carried out in the Map Room of the Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force in a school that went on to become today's Lycée Roosevelt and to house the Musée de la Reddition.
The display was projected onto the imposing Monument aux Morts that was erected in 1930 in memory of the ravages of the First World War on Reims, and to commemorate the subsequent reconstruction of the city. The Second War World itself inflicted great damage on the monument, leaving it all the more dramatic in its impact. The lessons supposedly learnt during the Great War seemed to have been swept aside and the message of the monument no longer relevant during this second period of wartime devastation. 
This human tragedy seemed to play itself out on the monument itself, with the left part, symbolizing The Sacrifice of 1914 smashed and shattered, whilst the right part, symbolizing The Lesson of 1918 faired little better. Central in the monument is the figure of Pensée himself “accomplishing his effort of resurrection”. Deep in reflection, this time he seems to be plunged into despair and desolation at the perspective of his city, la Cité des Sacres, devastated yet again by the horrors of war. Reims had, of course, been the symbol of French suffering during the 14-18 years. From the outset, it had been the very real target of enemy forces and victim to the worst atrocities of war. Its cathedral, willfully burnt and battered, represented the wanton cruelty of conflict, bent on the destruction of every form of civilisation.
The whole of last night’s show was moving, but I preferred the very last part, filmed below, which was projected without words. Image and sound seem to convey far more. The spoken part had largely dealt with today’s Peace, but we cannot really appreciate the full sense of that until we reflect over what has been. On the way to the commemoration, my son and I were speaking about this…
All the shop windows leading to Place de la République are currently displaying photos taken during and after these war years. Many of these war-torn streets and buildings are still largely recognizable today, and so we have both enjoyed trying to identify these in order to see what is so familiar to us today from another perspective, in a different light. This vision is quite eerie at times, but not as troubling as the notion that, as my son later confirmed, many young people do not even know why May 8th is a bank holiday. It must be a positive thing that those particular war years are so far behind us that they have fallen into the shadows, but can we really understand what Peace is without an awareness of that dark spectre and the messages that they still need to convey today?

Thursday, May 7, 2015

One of the rarest flowers... Klaus Nomi.


Well, yesterday I did get to see the David Bowie Is exhibition, and wasn't disappointed except for the fact that photography was banned. That meant that I never got to take photos of any of those great costumes, and certainly not the one that had so marked Klaus Nomi when he was backing singer to Bowie's performance on the show, Saturday Night Live.



However, I did notice that as fantastic as all these clothes were, a lot of the time more statements and stage props than 'real' garments, they couldn't live up to the image they had created on record covers, posters, videos and my mind. So, in fact, the only thing really missing in the show was a place to dance... It was really hard to contain myself, and above all not hum along tunelessly to the music on the guide headphones!


Well, after three hours' viewing, I went off to the Jardin des Plantes to see what was on show there, in the immense flower beds that stretch out towards the Natural History museum at the far end of the grounds.


The elegance and beauty of the plants give no indication of the fact that the Jardin des Plantes had been transformed into a wind tunnel. I even tried to hold onto the stems of some of these in order to steady them for the photo. However, my favourite flower has to be the one that I have just acquired for my balcony. This plant is equally challenged by the high winds that arise with higher-rise accommodation, but that's another story.


A beautiful purple Passiflora... Here to go with it is a collection of the flowers, set along to some music from Klaus Nomi's unfinished opera Za Bakdaz.


I just wish that in his creative years, Nomi had benefitted from some of the breaks that Bowie had, and especially that he had simply lived longer to create more of his unique music...