Morden Haiku

2012-01-31T00:47:00.001Z

2012-01-30T21:27:00.001Z

snowy evening
villagers shout at
the fool on a bike

2012-01-29T21:25:00.000Z

pathless moor
the cackle of grouse
hidden by mist

2012-01-26T21:29:00.001Z

unlit road
snowdrops hang bright
over the hedgebank

2012-01-25T00:10:00.000Z

2012-01-24T00:16:00.002Z

2012-01-23T20:31:00.002Z

hedge-layer's bonfire
the night has found
its' core of ash

2012-01-22T20:40:00.001Z

2012-01-21T21:42:00.001Z

2012-01-18T21:17:00.002Z

slow thaw
a tractor limes grass
back to white

2012-01-17T21:15:00.000Z

commuter traffic
a watching fox
shrugs it off

2012-01-16T21:14:00.000Z

freezing forecast
a snowdrop reminder
there's nothing to fear

2012-01-15T11:31:00.000Z

Belated thanks to shiki-iroha for being the one hundredth follower of Morden Haiku.

And thanks also to the other ninety-nine of you who take a regular look in this site.

Your interest is appreciated.

Matt

2012-01-15T11:25:00.000Z

The view from Dylan Thomas's writing shed in Laugharne, Carmarthenshire.

2012-01-14T17:53:00.003Z

garden centre
new potatoes
under wraps

2012-01-13T17:52:00.001Z

dentist's chair
counting dead flies
in the striplights

2012-01-12T17:51:00.000Z

purple dusk
a new hue stains
the church window

2012-01-11T21:34:00.001Z

moments more
a songbird begins
to think of spring

2012-01-08T23:44:00.000Z

our holiday memories
too big for security
cloudberry jam

2012-01-07T09:42:00.001Z

the mountain cloud
has become a veil
winter moon

2012-01-06T17:38:00.002Z

furthest lift
Finnish country passing
the long twilight hours

2012-01-05T17:37:00.002Z

gap in the clouds
ice crystals fill
the moon's missing quarter

2012-01-04T17:36:00.000Z

arctic twilight
i join the snow machines
misting the mountain

2012-01-03T17:34:00.004Z

snowy dusk
the fell has no answer
for the barking dog

2012-01-02T17:33:00.001Z

basketball hoop
snowflakes in the wind
not keeping score

2012-01-01T01:20:00.001Z

New Year's Day
a deer hesitates
in the headlights

2011-12-30T16:17:00.001Z

parting year
the christmas card wire
gives up the ghost

2011-12-29T19:21:00.002Z

2011-12-28T18:43:00.002Z

turnip field
a flock of sheep graze
mud into dusk

2011-12-27T17:46:00.000Z

2011-12-26T16:40:00.001Z

endless rain
christmas lights
bleed in a puddle

2011-12-25T17:59:00.002Z

hung in a cobweb
between gorse flowers
christmas rain

2011-12-24T16:18:00.001Z

Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to visit Morden Haiku during the past year. Your interest and comments are appreciated, as ever. I hope that you are all able to have an enjoyable Christmas and can look forward to fresh challenges and opportunities in 2012.

River of Stones, January 2012

2011-12-21T17:25:00.003Z

Longtime MH friends Fiona and Kaspa are running their literary paying attention project river of stones beginning on January 1st 2012.

This is an ideal way to begin/refine the writing down of your observations about the world and the products of which often have a haiku-like quality.

You can find out much more about the river of stones project here

2011-12-20T00:16:00.000Z

the morning after
oak leaves cradle
last night's hail

2011-12-14T00:12:00.000Z

soft hail
we agree
to disagree

2011-12-12T21:31:00.001Z

parting fog

a flock of plovers

own the marsh

2011-12-11T12:41:00.002Z

neon veil
a neighbour's lights
outshine the moon

2011-11-19T06:59:00.000Z

in-between day
grey every way
the lapwings turn

2011-11-13T15:18:00.000Z

with news of your death
I climb the highest ground
between your home and ours
leaving an extra stone
on every summit cairn

For Albert White, who died today.

2011-11-10T21:20:00.000Z

Dear visitors and friends,

This blog is on hold at the moment due to problems with the BT broadband connection. Hopefully, normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

2011-10-30T21:11:00.000Z

changing the clock
brings a misty dusk
closer to home
all the stuff of life
that's hard to love

2011-10-29T14:02:00.001Z

clocks change
i draw the curtains
on a summer

2011-10-28T07:45:00.001Z

awards night
people the photographers
don't notice

2011-10-27T14:10:00.003Z

the starlings reply
when i welcome them back
shit on the car

2011-10-26T20:54:00.001Z

a gathering storm
catches me up
on the steep hill

2011-10-24T19:32:00.002Z

autumn gale
the sunflowers turn
their seedy cheeks

2011-10-23T13:59:00.000Z

reaching the point
shells crack louder
under our feet

The Farm Sale

2011-10-22T14:31:00.004Z

They have come because
they want to help us,
those few friends,
our neighbours
and folks we cross
the market day street
to avoid,
milling around
a field of rusting lots
in autumn rain,
each piece a memory
the snapshots that frame
who we are.

   an old landrover
   snow in the headlights
   the night she had the twins

   the hay elevator
   swigging cider
   when all was gathered in

   those gates
   he pinned me to
   for answering back

   that mower
   I kicked the shit out of
   when in jammed in Plas Mawr

   we never did need
   the pallet of fertiliser
   the slick one sold us

And when it's all done
they shuffle away
leaving the junk for the gypos,
while we sit in the parlour
trying to fill up the space
after each tick of the clock,
what's left of our pride
stuck in his throat
as that dry cough,
and the empty words
of a politician's promise
fickle as spring.

2011-10-20T20:45:00.000Z

yew harvest
deep hues fill
a redwing's hunger

To Let Go

2011-10-19T20:26:00.001Z

That year, the apple crop
dropped heavy,
left lost in the long grass
there was no time to cut.

The journey north crept up on us,
a summer passed quick
as saw flies strip gooseberries
before a thought to spray them.

Our bough stretched
like the traffic concertinaed
on heartland slip roads
as we talked down
lone magpie omens
flung in gusting wind.

But middle England’s not the place
to talk about the night
a doctor’s glance to midwife
said so much more than
a novice needs to know.

Or that small girl
stood at a bus stop,
her new school uniform
bright in the mist,
and you caught smiling
at Ardnamurchan lighthouse,
when we rode
as far out west
as our wheels could go.

But after so long
behind hedges that hem in
the market town stifling,
it was time for you
to throw yourself headlong into
the big Wolds sky,
the roads straight-edged
by Saxon oaks.

On the way back
I crossed salmon river
after salmon river
slick flows holding
old stock hidden
and drawn back
to the grilse-scented riffles
where their fathers fathers’ ran.

In your room
I filled the bookshelf gaps
with things you wouldn’t choose,
picked up odd socks,
sweet wrappers,
reclaimed the music
I wanted you to like.

And after the first frost,
I cut the lawn for winter,
recycled windfalls from
the shipwrecked root-stock
I planted
collecting the pips
to stratify in cool fine sand
for another year.

2011-10-16T19:16:00.001Z

after defeat
the shadow of posts
reaches half way

2011-10-11T22:17:00.000Z

training night
a moth spins beneath
a floodlight

2011-10-09T19:04:00.001Z

warm wind
a man with cancer
admires my bike

2011-10-08T21:01:00.000Z

autumn heat
a farmer calls to chickens
in their native tongue

2011-10-07T19:21:00.001Z

glinting on
a retirement card
autumn rain

2011-10-06T19:27:00.001Z

she's leaving home
a pair of shoes
that no longer fit

2011-10-04T20:58:00.001Z

october wind
a kitten chases
one dry leaf

2011-10-02T18:55:00.000Z

indian summer
it's what the sunflowers
waited for

Wales Blog Awards Nomination

2011-10-01T15:22:00.002Z

Dear Friends,

Morden Haiku has been shortlisted as one of three blogs in the "Best Writing on a Blog" category in the Wales Blog Awards. Suffice to say that for bloggers found west of Offa's Dyke, it doesn't get bigger than this...

All of the nominated blogs are also part of an on-line public vote for the People's Choice award. So should you feel inclined, you may want to cast your vote via this link:

Wales Blog Awards finalist details

Or possibly not.

Either way, thanks to you all for your continuing interest in this site.

Matt

2011-09-24T21:21:00.000Z

caught in the flow
leaves that i pick
out of a drain

2011-09-21T21:19:00.001Z

autumn equinox
i let the last fly
go free

2011-09-21T21:18:00.000Z

window dressing
a tree that has lost
all its leaves

2011-09-20T21:17:00.000Z

autumn rain
my socks dry on
the pc tower

2011-09-15T21:16:00.000Z

damping down
the fresher's wigs
september rain

2011-09-10T21:15:00.000Z

straw truck delivery
someone else's summer
strewn down our lane

2011-09-10T21:13:00.000Z

not letting go
a spider's web strung
between two hard places

2011-09-09T21:12:00.001Z

autumn rain
conkers in the playground
uncollected

2011-09-07T21:11:00.000Z

autumn gale
the pines have found
the scent they lost

2011-09-05T21:10:00.000Z

packing the tent
what's left of summer
stuck to the pegs

2011-09-04T21:09:00.001Z

festival's end
the digeridoos
all half price

2011-09-01T21:08:00.000Z

staining the car
all the swallows
left us

2011-08-30T21:07:00.001Z

summer's end
all of my ties have become
fancy dress

2011-08-29T21:06:00.000Z

summer's end
damson ripe enough
to pick themselves

2011-08-26T21:05:00.001Z

far from the sun
a crop of cherries
yet to ripen

2011-08-25T19:53:00.002Z

village show
the committee man hammers
a stake into slate

2011-08-23T23:58:00.000Z

summer longing
a dampness in the washing
left out overnight

2011-08-22T19:44:00.000Z

early hours
a festival drunk
impersonates Voldemort

2011-08-21T18:49:00.001Z

adding to
an eclectic mix of beats
the owl's hoot

2011-08-20T22:03:00.001Z

cloud lifts
from the mountain
chiming guitars

2011-08-19T19:46:00.001Z

festival dawn
the gazebo gathering
canned to a stupor

2011-08-18T19:43:00.000Z

exam results day
I find myself singing
"Making Plans For Nigel"

2011-08-15T20:02:00.002Z

the cycle shop owner
greets my bike
ahead of me

2011-08-14T19:42:00.001Z

first falling leaves
a hill I can't run
all the way up

2011-08-12T19:40:00.002Z

perseid showers
only rain in
the night garden

2011-08-11T19:09:00.001Z

night after night
the farm dog forgets
he knows me of old

2011-08-10T16:12:00.000Z

rolling news --
bats farm the dark
in decreasing circles

2011-08-09T16:07:00.000Z

summer breeze
cycling from windfarm
to windfarm

2011-08-08T16:06:00.000Z

sunshine and showers
an earwig shelters
at the heart of a rose

2011-08-07T18:58:00.001Z

nothing to cling to
in this moment
august hail

2011-07-24T20:51:00.002Z

thunder showers --
rain in a map case
shapes a new continent

I Break Horses - Hearts

2011-07-20T20:18:00.000Z

My project for the rest of the summer is to edit the video footage that I shot while in Scotland into a short film. In my dreams, it will look and sound like this.

I Break Horses - Hearts from Bella Union on Vimeo.

Cycle Touring the Highlands and Islands, June 2011

2011-07-18T21:43:00.001Z

Most eighteen year-olds depart for the party resorts of the Mediterranean with their friends having finished their A Level exams. However, by way of a dad/daughter rite of passage, I agreed with my daughter Alex that we would go cycle touring around the west coast of Scotland when she left school. So having spent some days collecting all of the kit that we need and loading it onto our bikes, we rode to Carmarthen and caught the train to London.

The first part of our adventure, four miles of cycling across London from Paddington station to Euston, passes off without incident. While the traffic is heavy, it's good to cycle where there is a critical mass of other people on bikes, unlike my usually solitary cycle commute in West Wales. By coincidence, we stumble across one of the best real ale pubs in London, the Bree Louise where I buy Alex her first legal pint of cider.

The staff on the Caledonian Sleeper seem friendlier and more relaxed than other UK train staff. The guard lets us load our bikes onto the train an hour before the train departs. The extra time is useful as we have to strip off all of the panniers and hang the bikes up horizontally.

central station

pigeons fight

over a chip

The train leaves through the warm London dusk and I drift off to sleep, waking to watch the gloaming over the Cheviot Hills near Penrith. The sun is already high as we pass through the small stations of the Grampian Mountains before pulling into the cool of the highland terminus at Inverness. We change trains and share a carriage with a party of pensioners for the route to the Kyle of Lochalsh. The railway runs through country so scenic, I want to get off at every station and climb the mountains that surround each of the remote halts.

highland halt

one poppy waits

at the platform

At Kyle station, we load up the bikes and cycle over the bridge onto Skye. Traffic is heavy on the A87 , the main road across the island to Portree and ferry at Uig. Between trucks, coaches and showers, the mountains of the mainland stretch away as far as the eye can see. After twenty five miles, we reach the Sligachan campsite in the early evening. We pitch our tent with views of the Black Cuillin hills above the hotel.

On the other side of the tent, Glamaig towers above us. The campsite warden tells us the previous day had been a washout. With sunshine and only a few midges, we can't believe our luck.

To celebrate, we visit the Sligachan Hotel, where the bar is home to 260 whiskies and 10 real ales. It is the Good Pub Guide's 2011 Whisky Bar of the Year and a difficult place to leave, though Alex doesn't take to the Talisker. It rains in the night, as if to remind us of our good fortune

In the morning we depart on the A863 towards Dunvegan, before turning off along the shores of Loch Harport and coasting down to the Talisker distillery at Carbost. The car park is full of touring motorcycles and born again bikers of many nationalities, who are enjoying the free samples in the visitor centre.

summer breeze

distillery steam

drifts out to sea

After the long climb back out of the village we turn onto the minor road down to Glenbrittle. The car park at the Fairy Pools is full of the cars of the walkers tackling the Black Cuillins, the majestic ridge that towers over the valley. The play of light across the mountains is an every changing show in itself.

Glenbrittle is little more than a cluster of hostels and bothies. At the end of the road, we come to the beach and the campsite, as lovely a site as any camper could wish for on a day like this. Each plot has been lovingly cut out of the dune grassland (machair) and the combination of mountains and sea give great views in all directions. The campsite shop is well stocked, not least with midge repellant and walking guidebooks.

We cook pasta for tea, washed down with the local ale that clinked all the way down the tracks in my panniers. From the beach, we watch a rainbow feint across the isles of Rum and Canna. As it nears midnight, the light finally fades and there are so many stars.

It's a long hard climb back out of Glenbrittle and we push our bikes up the steepest part of the hill. Retracing our route of the previous day, we pass back through Sligachan and take the scenic (and recommended) route around the shore of Loch Ainort to avoid the traffic of the main road. We stop for lunch in the cafe at Broadford. An elderly couple wait for their grown up son who is smoking outside. He tells them to "order me anything, I don't mind." After some miles heading south down the Sleat peninsular, it begins to rain and Alex gets tired and fed up. We stop at Kilbeg for a drink next to a roadside monument for a young man who died ten years ago. It is clear that he is missed.

After forty miles cycling, we reach the ferry port at Armadale. Above the landing stage, we find the Rubha Phoil eco-campsite. It takes some time to find someone at the permaculture garden to show us where the campsite is, but we have the choice of plots and exclusive use of the long drop composting toilet. The site has a number of nature trails and stunning views out across the sound of Sleat.

While we are the first customers into the Ardvasar Hotel, the bar soon fills up and the food proves to be excellent. There is no one around at the campsite when we depart, leaving our fees in the honesty box. The ferry to Mallaig is full of with a coach party of French tourists, one of whom asks for a refund on her coffee from the CalMac vending machine.

The MV Western Isles ferry to Inverie on the Knoydart peninsular leaves twice daily in summer, with a friendly crew, well versed in lines for visitors. The statue of the Madonna approaching Inverie, is to mark that we should "abandon all hope of a mobile signal when passing this point."

afternoon ferry

a woman sleeps under

Eats, Shoots and Leaves

Despite being on the Scottish mainland, Inverie is landlocked and appears to be the place where Land-rovers without MOTs go to die. We pay £2 to camp on the community campsite (or beach) at the rangers office. From the front of our tent we look out across the beach and sea, from the rear there are a clutch of Munros, the highest being Ladhar Beinn. There's a makeshift hide with an old car seat where a small river reaches the sea and I watch the swallows and sandpipers patrol the estuary. There's a raptor gliding a mile away, but at that distance my bird knowlege is not good enough to know the difference between a juvenile Golden Eagle and a Buzzard. The tide comes in quickly to surround a wooden statue that has been sunk into the beach.

closing out

my path to the shore

summer tide

In the evening, we walk back to Inverie village and eat at the Old Forge Inn, mainland Britain's remotest pub as good a hostelry as you will find anywhere. We talk to a couple who are spending six months sailing around the coast of the UK, though "we haven't actually sailed that much, and the boat only does 6 nautical miles the gallon."

Our return trip on the MV Western Isles, isn't timetabled but a special run to take back an orchestra who have been practicing at Inverie before performing in Glasgow and Edinburgh. Back at Mallaig, all of the passengers form a human chain to unload all of the luggage from the boat. Someone remarks that it's "so much more civilised than an airport."

The road south from Mallaig is undulating without ever including a killer climb. At Arisaig, I realise that we have missed the scenic route including beaches featured in the film Local Hero. The hotel at Lochailort is locked, so on the advice of a local cyclist that the next pub is "three miles down the road" we continue another eight miles to the Glenuig Inn, past a host of great wild camping spots alongside the loch. The pub is newly renovated and serves excellent food and real ale. My camping resolve weakens and I enquire if they have accommodation for the night, but there is no room at the inn and we return to the hills of Moidart and Sunart. The campsite at Resipole is large and well cared for, though the large number of caravans is a far cry from our camping experiences so far.

day's end

only one midge

in my tea

Our next morning's cycling takes us along the sunny shores of Loch Sunart and out onto the Ardnamurchan penisular. There is a long climb over one the pass next to Ben Hiant, one of Scotland's most attractive small mountains. We stop for water at the top of the pass, next to a peaty burn.

steepest ascent

a dragonfly dips

its tail in the stream

After a roller-coaster decent into Kilchoan, we wait for the village shop to open after lunch. The shop and Post Office sells pretty much everything anyone could need out here on Ardnamurchan.

picnic table

the shopkeeper eats

the out of date pies

Even after the great campsites we have stayed at so far, the Ardnamurchan campsite at Kilchoan is something special. Cut by hand from a field adjoining the Sound of Mull by owner Trevor Potts, it is surrounded by the sea and mountains. There are sea otters, seals, basking shark, fossils and orchids for those prepared to wait and look. We stay two nights, cycling out to the UK's most westerly point at Ardnamurchan with fine views across the the small isles.

at the end of a day

when I could not ask for more

wild orchids

The next morning, the weather breaks and we catch the ferry across to Tobermory on Mull. With rain forecast all day, we book into a double room in the youth hostel and explore the town, including a sighting of the famous Tobermory cat, who has his own Facebook page. We eat in the excellent Fish Cafe above the CalMac Ferry office. Despite an extensive menu and numerous specials, the Americans next to us persist in asking for "broiled flat fish" which doesn't feature as a choice. Our room looks out across the harbour and evening noise floats up from the pubs on the quay.

quiet town

a wake up call from

the street sweeper's brush

Despite the promise of seeing dolphins and whales on a boat trip from Tobermory, we miss out on any sightings more exciting than seals. The boat owner seemed genuinely sad that we hadn't seen anything interesting, though stops short of offering us a refund.

After an evening meal of chips and Irn Bru on the quay, we walk up the steep hill to Tobermory Parish Church for a free evening recital that is part of the Mendelssohn on Mull Festival. Back at the youth hostel, we stay in the dormitories and I decide that I am too old for communal living.

male dorm

a quartet of snores

calls in the dorm

The road from Tobermory to Salen is scenic but poor, full of potholes and passing places. Beyond Salen, the road skirts the shore, with oyster-catchers and terns in close view. We arrive at Craignure as the ferry to Oban pulls out, so we shelter in a cafe as a summer storm passes over the Morvern peninsular.

Our room on the Corran House hotel is on the top floor and we carry our panniers of dirty clothes up four flights of stairs before enjoying our first bath for ten days. After more whisky in Markie Dan's bar, we return to our room where I realise far too late that our train tickets back to Carmarthen are for today, not tomorrow. I am awake for much of the night, trying to think of the cheapest way to get back home.

The next morning, we are at Oban station when it opens and the woman in the office confirms that are tickets are no longer valid. We buy new tickets for Glasgow and load the bikes onto the train. The scenery of the route passes me by as I arrange car hire and try to ignore the other passengers.

West Highland railway

four drunk teens

obscure the view

We cycle four miles across Glasgow to the car hire office, where they sort us out a people carrier. We load our bikes in the back and begin the long drive back to Wales.

A week later, Alex departs with her friends for the sun and clubs of Zante.

++++++

2011-06-21T20:37:00.000Z

49th birthday
elderflowers stretch out
my twilight

2011-06-19T20:40:00.001Z

Father's Day
bog cotton billows
across the common

2011-05-26T20:41:00.001Z

softening
my new jacket
spring rain

2011-05-25T20:39:00.000Z

spring squall
a rainbow follows
cold rain

2011-05-24T20:57:00.001Z

last day of term
my daughter breaks
the uniform code

2011-05-23T20:47:00.001Z

spring gale
a broken eggshell
beneath the swallow's nest

2011-05-22T11:03:00.001Z

spring wind
tachograph discs
turn down a backroad