Spring

A woodpecker heard and seen
high up in Kingscliff,
the Parrott at flood-tide flowing upstream at Moorland
[15 miles inland],
glimpses of rising sun as a run;
blossom and daffs and forsythia.

An interview and an half job offer
[which I couldn't take up].
A lauren cut down
to extend the zip-wire;
man-hunting and bouncing and swinging.

Planning and training for school,
with the end at last in sight
and a scary amount to complete.
Church and Cubs, cleaning and cooking and baking;
and I find a moment to speak to Jane.

A time of change
growth
development.

A season of light
warmth,
sudden frost.

Spring.

Blue Suilven

It is the summit that I remember most clearly, close cropped green grass, of the kind that you only get on sandstone, above towering cliffs. But to get there there was a seriously long slog through the bog to the most amazing loch ringed with red sand, then the thousand foot of steep climbing and the ridge, which at times I traversed on my knees.

It is a small mountain, less than 2,500 feet, but it isn't a mountain which is easy to forget, and the more I write the more vivid it becomes. I have remembered my first ever view, from the Altnacealgach. I have remembered the view from Canisp and the view from the Devil's Elbow, upon which this painting is based.

Minehead

This is my attempt at what must be one of the most photographed and painted views in Somerset [Church Steps, Minehead, in case it's completely unrecognisable!]. I painted it over ten years ago and had almost forgotten it, until I saw it hung in a new house.

It was good to get away after Christmas, and to catch up on some sleep and running and some teaching tasks. I got lost up the Barle, and ran up North Hill, including the zig zags without even wanting to stop. Then on our return Jane got Wii fit and it said that I was a couch potato for it's jogging programme! And that morning I'd run up Wills Neck twice.

We set holidays for the rest of the year and I've managed to commit to three crazy runs over the next six months. The 15 3000ft peaks of Snowdonia, the Exmoor coastal marathon and the Classic Quarter - see http://www.endurancelife.com/ for the latter two.

I finally sorted a few cupboards [which have been on my to do list for the past six months] and cleared all the books on my side of the bed. When I asked Jane which ones she wanted to keep on her side I got the response 'What's wrong with all of them'. Jane was prooved right as I remembered why I had kept a Disney Princess musical book of Kathryn's off her bookshelf and deep under the matress!

It's been a good holiday and I'm just about ready to go back, or certainly to send the children back to school.

Moon, Sand and Snow

It's been a while, blogging has been one of the causalities of too many overlong days, working beyond midnight and then starting again before six. Even the running has suffered, although I have, just about, managed to get out a couple times a week. And there have been some amazing dawns, the moon on the high Quantocks on 25th October [pictured]. And just a month later, I wasn't the only idiot up on Wills Neck in shorts, despite temperatures of -6! Is there a special club for those who wear shorts in the snow, I was asked? I was the first human out after the snow and was following the deer, foxes and squirrels through the woods. This morning, even a week after the last snow fall, I found tracks that no human had ventured, the reason for one un-trod section became clear when my legs [still wearing shorts] vanished into a three foot drift, the first of many. There was then the most amazing steep run though deep snow back down woods.

The second half of the term has been almost overwhelming, incredibly hard work, stressful, great fun, and much more. Would that I had got more done when things were quieter in September and October, but I have managed a few key tasks in the run up to Christmas, and on 8th January have my English and ICT tests, which I need to pass to get Qualified Teacher Status. But despite all of that, I have continued painting, occasionally, always a very good sign, and the headline has been that I have really enjoyed it. And I have managed, just about to keep up cubs and church, time at home and all the rest. As we put in our Christmas Card, who needs to sleep! Next term I'm at Axbridge, which will be a completely different experience, and then back to Bridgwater for the summer.

The Weekend

After a week of running to stand still, and just about managing to keep up with the hectic teaching schedule, but without any train wrecks [thankfully] dawn running is exactly what happened yesterday. Whatever the intense mystery of the pre-dawn dark [and it's still pitch black when I return home, let alone set out], to run into the clarity of the newly risen sun was fantastic. I also discovered Goathurst, Robin Hood's Hut and the Temple of Harmony; for some reason I had never noticed them in the dark. See www.quantockonline.co.uk/quantocks/villages/goathurst/goathurst1.html for photos.

And I've cut down the hedge [you can see out from the terrace] and gone to a Scout Training [which began with a an out of date video on Changes in Scouting!] and even managed to paint! Then there have been fires and wine and food and chocolate brownies and 'stuck in the mud' and all of the other staples of a family weekend.

Back to school tomorrow.

Against the tide

Amidst the mists of the valley,
the roar of the motorway
the haze of the newly risen sun,
the river was at flood tide
and flowing upstream.

Fifteen miles from the coast
the current was strong,
forcing the river against its nature;
flowing upstream.

I only see it once or twice a month [usually consectutive days], but each time it is amazing and transforms the Parrott from a muddy trickle to a powerful river.
And as with running through pitch black woods, there is a certain parallel with the rollacoaster ride of learning to teach.

Unity of the Spirit...

Even the true Welsh castles, Criccieth, Dolbardarn, Dolwyddelan, built by Llewellan the Great and Llewellan the Last, brood over their valleys and coastlines. The Edwardian fortresses, the English castles of the conquest, Conway [pictured], Harlech, Caernarfon and Beaumauris are in a different league; as fine a feat of medieval engineering and archicecture as any buildings in the country.

In contrast, the ancient churches are small, even the great church of Towyn or the cathedral at Bangor are low, sturdy buildings; there is within them a great sense of holiness and history, but they do not have the majesty or magnificence of Durham or Salisbury. Yet however humble the churches of Beddgelert [pictured] and so many other Welsh towns and villages, they are still alive and loved.

So often, after a holiday in Wales there is a thought that remains with me, echoing around my head. In 2009 is was a phrase from a sermon at St Catherine's, Criccieth, 'for Mary, saying yes to God was almost unbearable' [tough, of course, 'unbearable', that was a new thought]. This year is was the realisation that, however small, the churches of Gwynedd are still whole and alive. In contrast the great castles, powerhouses of their nations and their kings, lasted only a few centuries before being reduced to ruins; and ruins they remain. The parishes of the Church in Wales still struggle, as they have struggled down the ages, yet they remain as faithful witness to worship and service though the ages, a living contrast to the ruined fortresses.

There hasn't been much that has surprised me about teaching full time, it has been and continues to be an incredibly steep learning curve, but I'd expected most of it. Yet one thing about a school staff team that I hadn't fully articulated, even to myself, before this term was how incredibly united it could be. There is a very strong unity of purpose, a desire to help, to say yes, to do anything possible to support the children. Even though there are differing theories and different models of teaching, even though there are contrasting personalities, still it works and it is a pleasure to work within such a community.

And then there was a meeting of a number of parishes which I chaired last week where we strugged to agree even why were were meeting, let along whether we should meet again. They were and are good people, but there was tragically little unity of purpose or Spirit. Just as that can also be lacking in individual churches, and, to be fair, in some schools as well.

For all of our faith and faithfulness, the church seems to stuggle to hold together, to serve joyfully to maintain the bond of peace. Those that are 'at one' seem, tragically, to be the exceptions. But, whether struggling within themselves or united, these churches whose representatives I met last week have, just like the churches of Gwynedd, continued to worship and serve through the generations.