LAGUNAS DE LO MONTE

On our return visit we found the site open. It is situated on high ground about a kilometre on the landward side of the AP7. It is very easy to find for when exiting AP7 (Exit 768) follow the signage for San Miguel de Salinas (CV941). Upon leaving the exit roundabout there is a really straight road in front. In the distance you will see a RIGH-HAND BEND. There are two hazarding signs that indicate the bend, but just in front of them is a yellow sigh inscribed E.D.A.R Pilar de la Horadada (Sewage works) and below that a green sign with Lagunas de Lo Monte. TURN LEFT HERE. Traveling from San Miguel you should easily see the signs and the road in.

Co-ordinates are 37.900821 and 0.784903

Immediately you will find 'market garden' crops on the right side and further on the left a strong wire fence. There are double gates with a small car park area. This area is hidden from the Lagunas by the banking, screening and in the future, vegetation. It has been planted, watered and well set out. To the left of the car park there is a picnic area planted with saplings.
There are two large areas of water which may be connected at the far end? All the edges have have tall vegetation and there appears to be no shallows for waders. Access is restricted to the one end which has been well screened to hide human activity from the wildlife.
There are four stout looking hides about 2 metres wide with a continuous bench in the rear that needs to be stepped over to be able to get inside to look out. The interior shelves are just too thick for a bench clamp and so the scope was balanced on the seat. It was okay. All hides provide good views over to the water.

What we saw was limited. It was a hot afternoon. There was nothing flying overhead, nothing moving in the reeds, but there were a large number of dragon flies. On the two small islands there were Pochard (Porrón Europeo), two female White-headed ducks (Malvasia Cabeciblanco),Mallards (Ánade Azulón) and in the distance a Grey Heron (Garza Real) In the water were Little Grebe (Zampullín Común), Coot (Focha Cumún) and Moorhen (Gallineta Común) and nothing else.
I intend to look-in when passing, although opening times, are not that convenient. Hopefully more birds will find it and I suspect that during the migration months it could be interesting.

Paraje Natural, Lagunas de Lo Monte and Salinas at San Pedro.

Having discovered the location of the first mentioned site which is new; we went there. It was closed, but it is apparently open on Friday afternoons and at week-ends. The hides and screens look very new and we intend to visit it on Friday. More information and comments should follow thereafter.

At San Pedro we have had some super sightings. A favourite corner is by the small car park just off the roundabout. Here close by we saw a single Curlew Sandpiper (Correlimos Zarapitin) feeding in the shallows with a Little Stint (Correlimos Menudo) nearby and a male Ruff( Combatiente). Three good birds to be able to view close at hand. Kentish Plovers (Choritejo Patinegro) and Dunlin (Correlimos Común) were also near-by. There was no Kingfisher (Martin Pescador) to be seen, but the usual Flamingos (Flamenco Común)' Avocet (Avoceta Común), Black-winged Stilts (Cigüeñuela Común) Mallards (Ánade Azulón) and Moorhens (Gallineta Común). Shellducks (Tarro Blanco). Since we had not made an early start it was 35 degrees by the time we left. Too hot.
We did visit the car park near to the beach which had been closed, but was now open and full of cars. Soon we will have it almost to ourselves again and be able to view the lagoons peacefully.

Stanza Mar Menor

STANZA MAR MENOR AUGUST UPDATE
The heat of the Spanish sun has seen our members go to more northern climes, but this has seen writing as usual with contact by email. David Leslie Urion has produced more children's 'Wombat ' stories while Douglas Hill's book of poems 'Streams of Conscience' is now in the Scottish Poetry Library. Visits have included Ledbury Poetry Festival, Edinburgh Festival, with an attendance in Mexborough for Pitmen Poets and the Commonwealth War Cemeteries. This last inspired Douglas to create some wonderful poetry. We have sent in letters to 'the unknown soldier' and been added to that archive. Writing has been done on the intended destruction to ancient woods. We feel that we must protest. Our next meeting will be on Friday 12th September.

A Time of Sadness

A Time of Sadness

As we approach the end of summer it is easy for some things to go unnoticed. It is also a time of sadness as some of our visitors have or are heading south for the winter. Our cluster of Pallid Swifts just went. I saw one this morning, but only one. House-martins were lining up on an electric cable and we are now seeing Barn Swallows coming by and they too are heading south. Along the canal a clutch of them were congregating on branches, twittering away, no doubt discussing the right time to shove off and leave us. I did not even see one of the Red-rumped variety either, but they were there a few days ago. Several mornings this week I have heard the 'burbling' of Bee-eaters somewhere up in the sky and they are always a loss as they are so colorful.
However the migration of others should give us joy and then in September we are in the Elbro Delta for a few days.
A sad time it maybe and sadness is everywhere as bad news permeates our lives. This past week the death of Robin Williams was announced. He is not the only one that has left us and it triggered a thought one evening - so I wrote these few lines that follow:-

A TRIBUTE (to those that do)
Did you notice the sadness? It is
normally well hidden only for the
discerning eye that catches a
downtime on the smile. Mind-readers
ought to unite for we get that wrong
the majority of the time. No one is perfect
and I even think that no one sets out
to be perfect, but is it okay to feel lonely?
Is it okay to feel sad? Yes, it is, but then
what else takes over? Those innermost
unshared thoughts that go to our darkest
corners that is where we are alone, but
not to consider our end. I respect the
final decision. It is the ultimate of choices.
Who can gainsay that end?
John Edwards (C) 14th August 2014

Ledbury Poetry Festival

Ledbury Poetry Festival's site can be accessed by www.poetry-festival.co.uk. The left hand menu highlighted in green has the first item - 2014 Audio Highlights - where some of the events can be listened to, some in part only and others with a much longer play. On this can be heard some of the great voices that were there in July.

The second item is for The Poetry Orchard where a number of 'Apple Poems' can be read. It is still ongoing so there should be more to follow.

Two for my own Barrel of Apples

THE COMMONERS

REDSTREAK
(IN TOM JENKINS'S ORCHARD)

I was one of the family
sometimes scarce noticed
by Mollie, Dick or Fred but
Tom was different. He would
light his pipe close to me. We bonded,
shared the aroma of his 'Digger
Flake', rubbed between fingers,
caressed into that old briar pipe
and Swan Vesta lit.

My home, a little orchard, a small
corner. My space next to the
dew pond was sacred, ephemeral.
My spirit still flies, giving it the old
once over. Good people remembered.
You can find them in the Churchyard;
sweet smiles always.

BALL'S BITTERSWEET

Poor it is. Does anyone care?
Broken limbs, decay, rot, all show
our pain. Last summer's grasses
lie tangled beneath us poor fruit.
We all need a wash, but I'm okay.
Sadness when I remember 'The
Commoners'. George Oakley, trilby-
hatted walking home. Mary Ann too, her
white face ravined with black lines,
lean as a rake, a widow you know.
I will soon fall to lie as a feast
for the pheasant that comes to drink
at the dew pond's circular edge.

N.B. REDSTREAK is said to date from 17th Century
and it was considered a very good variety. Whether
the original species has survived is in doubt, but the
name survives. Both this one and Balls Bittersweet are
still grown.

The Poetry Orchard

Ledbury Poetry Festival July, 2014

The Poetry Orchard

In many ways Ledbury is where I have roots, not the sort that hold me back, but very good ones that allow me to have a continued connection with the town and the rural areas that were my childhood playgrounds.
I had written about this area the previous autumn when we had visited and made many observations and notes that eventually found their way into poems. So, when through The Ledbury Poetry Festival I became aware of the creation of The Poetry Orchard I knew that I had a theme on which to work and produce a poem or two. Paul Henry, Herefordshire's Poet in Residence was commissioned by Poetry on Loan and Herefordshire Libraries to develop it in partnership with The Big Apple Association.
What a terrific idea as this county is 'Apple County' to me. My Great-Grandfather was an expert on cider apples and it is good to see that there is so much work being done to save the old species of apple trees. I was surrounded by the old orchards when young and there beauty has never left me. I still mourn their loss and the wildlife habitats that went with them.
Paul Henry's instructions that he wanted apple names that could invoke local characters and this allowed me to use my past knowledge to bring these people into my poems. The apple barrel's first one was one of his, entitled, Windfalls.
Two of my poems come under the title, 'The Commoners'. They lived on what was still Tarrington Common before it became swallowed up by the 'Foley Estate' and non-indigenous pines. I have used my memory and their names to bring back some of my past and enjoyed doing it. Stoke Edith Parish sits to the south of Tarrington and Stoke Edith Pippin is one of the old names for a cider apple and two poems were born out of this name. I wrote a fifth one but for a very different reason and I will include that one later with suitable comment.

Smithy Wood versus HS2

The Stanza Mar Menor writers always have something to say about the injustices in this world and the present is no exception. We have been active in writing to 'the unknown soldier' on the website of 14-18 NOW-WW1 Centenary Art Commissions where twenty thousand pieces of writing have been received. Likewise the Splurge of Poppies at The Tower of London might well invoke some thought. Also there is is Gaza, the Ukraine, but also environmental matters such as the one below entitled Smithy Wood.

I will pay tribute to my fellow writers for their never ending support, encouragement, suggestions and where necessary pointing out any flaws that there may be. Without this attention to detail I would be far less of a writer - so thank you.


Smithy Wood

For centuries, just a bit at a time,
we've been eating at your extremities
like a rat nibbles at the corn bin rim
to eat while others cause calamities.

Man has plans. You cannot keep hiding there.
He is after you, never mind about
Marples, he severed you, laying you bare
for the M1 on a north to south route.

He scuffed edges too, the feeder roads
went in and then the 'coup de grace' they call
junction thirty-five, the crown that just folds
you into a paddock, zipped hold-all.

Now we are getting serious, they are
after you yet again. It's bigger - now
you'll be gutted, eviscerated core
for fast track HS2 and so we row.

Check this out, see the death knell for the
heart to be 'grave-yarded' under concrete
plans for a pit stop for the weary, see
the rise of convenient signs - that's not right!

Their homes erased, folk moved on for short
term answers, but our trees we have to love
much more, so make 'em royal in the court -
the growth of centuries we have to have.

John Edwards (C) July 2014

My preference

'Chooof'

Chooof - Choof, Choof; Chooof - Choof, Choof.
Remember George, that sound took us away
brought you back boxed, but only a shadow.

Past sixteen going on eighteen, we wuz
thought we were men enough to chase the maids
from the big 'ouse. We never got a sniff.

Didn't know nuffin' we di'n't 'cept 'ow
to dodge the bailiff, but the larf was on
us though when 'e tripped over our nets.

'E must have known. 'E sure as 'ell did when
'e fell arse over tit - 'ad to choke on it
as we di'n't want to get a lathering.

It was a good job we 'ad couple rabbits
'cos we 'ad to look lively early on
as to get 'osses out. Duke and Short just knew
that we'd been out all night. I had to jab
'em in the ribs to get 'is bridle on.

The recruiting sergeant winked, so 'e did
as 'e wrote eighteen on that our death sheet.
I signed my name but you marked only X.

They knew we could 'andle 'osses. That's what did us.
Put us on that stinking shit 'eap road,
axles near deep in mud, 'osses straining, wild eyed.

We 'ad the ammo, the fucking shell 'ad
us into bits and then Chooof - Choof, Choof;
Chooof - Chooof - Chooof.

George, I'm still looking for yuh.
I never told you that loved yuh.

Where the details came from

Where the 'bits' came from

I love history and respect those that suffered in our wars. This year, is the one hundredth anniversary of 'The Great War' that commenced on 4th August 1914.

Will you turn the lights out and will the bells be silenced?

Both Michelle and I have family that did not survive that time. My mother's uncle, Herbert Sloman was a private in the Royal Sussex Regiment, 12th Battalion and died on 12th October, 1916. His remains lie in Euston Road Cemetery, Colincamps, near Arras. Private S C Hipwell of 1st Battalion Leicestershire Regiment who died on 21st July 1918 lies in Kemmel No.1 French Cemetery is a relative on Michelle's paternal side.

For me the extra inspiration came from the statue of the unknown soldier on Platform 1 in Paddington Station. This terminus is part of my past because as I was born in Herefordshire the Great Western Trains hauled me into London for many years until the motorways and modern cars came.

Knowing about writing a letter to this unknown soldier made my imagination react with my rural background provided some of the detail. I have used George, my father's name, because he spent his entire working life on the land. In his twenties he would have walked behind the single furrowed plough pulled by two Shire horses, but in his day The Leys Farm at Tarrington would have housed eight or up to ten Shires. The last two remaining horses were called Duke and Short whose names I have used.


The 'Joe' is in memory of Joe Stephens, our old neighbour, who also worked with horses until he was injured. Both men are remembered in the churchyard at Tarrington where I can pass by and think of times past.

The characters that I have created for this letter do not correspond to either men's lives as neither were old enough in 1914 and the activities involving rabbiting was the job of the rabbit catcher, not them. His name was Mr Dominey and he would have put his nets out to catch rabbits, but he would have not any trouble from the bailiff as he was allowed to do so.

The last 'big house' had been burned down in 1926, but the estate was still owned by Paul Foley and his family. My mother was placed 'in service' at fourteen and later came to work for 'The Miss Lloyds' at Tarrington Court. In was this move that resulted in her marrying my father in 1934 hence the reference to the 'big house'. Also a great-aunt had become pregnant when 'in service' in Birmingham.

Education was limited with the working classes in that period and many children would have had only a limited knowledge and some would not have been able to read, write or even to sign their own name. I see no disgrace in this as necessity to be able to find work would have been a priority.

How accurate I have been able to be with the dialogue I can not be sure although I think that it is safe to say that their speech patterns and pronunciation would have been far different from today and very localised - so I have given myself a lot of license with that.

I hope that I have portrayed the futility of the destruction of a generation and the attitude that would have prevailed in sending men and boys to their deaths. I know that our perception of this time has been influenced by our reading and TV programmes. The first event of Ledbury Poetry Festival was for David Reynolds, Cambridge Professor of International History to introduced his book 'The Long Shadow: The Great War and the Twentieth Century' in which he suggests that both WW1 and WW2 be assessed in a broader more sophisticated context. I agree with that sentiment.

World War 1 Centenary

Dear George

Chooof - Choof, Choof; Chooof - Choof, Choof. Remember George, that sound took us away brought you back boxed, but only a shadow. Past sixteen going on eighteen, we were.Thought we were men enough to chase the maids from the big house. We never got a sniff. Di'n't know nuffin' we di'n't, 'cept 'ow to dodge the bailiff, but the larf was on us though when 'e tripped over our nets. 'E must have known. 'E sure as hell did when 'e fell arse over tit - we 'ad to choke on it as we didn't want to get a lathering, did we? It's a good job we 'ad couple rabbits. 'Cos we had to look lively early on to get 'osses out. Duke and Short just knew that we'd been out all night I had to jab 'em in the ribs to get 'is bridle on. We signed up, the sergeant winked, as 'e wrote eighteen on the enlistment sheet. I signed my name but you marked only X. They knew we could handle 'osses. That's what did us. Put us on that stinking shit 'eap of road. Axles near deep in mud, 'osses straining, wild eyed. We 'ad the ammo, the bastard shell 'ad us into bits and then Chooof- Choof - Choof; Chooof- Chooof - Chooof

George, I'm still looking for yuh.
I never told you that I loved yuh.
your bruvver Joe