2015: a life-changing year

I started 2015 in England, finished it in Wales, and in between there were New Zealand, the United States and Nicaragua – an interesting year, to say the least, and a life-changing one for me!

My lovely friend Sarah was kind enough to let me board with her during the six months I spent in Cheshire and we enjoyed some lovely days out together. This was one of them: a long walk beside the River Weaver to Dutton Locks, followed by lunch at a riverside pub. (You can see more photos here.)

My favourite thing about living in Wincham, in Cheshire, was the range of places I could easily walk to and I quickly developed some favourite circular routes that took me around lakes and alongside a canal, across fields and over streams, through woodlands and along a lime avenue. This long lime avenue was one of my favourite places, for the trees, for the daffodils in the springtime, for the way its character changed with the seasons. (Great Budworth’s lime avenue features in two blogs, this one about lime avenues and this photo blog showing the changing seasons.)

Once I had made the big decision to relocate to Britain, I headed back to New Zealand to sell my apartment,  pack up all my worldly possessions, and say goodbye to my fabulous friends and favourite places. One of the best things about my apartment in Auckland city was the view and I will never forget these amazing sunrises. (More of these stunning scenes here.)  

This is the quintessential Auckland to me, with the easily recognisable harbour bridge in the background, just a few of the huge wealth of boats lined up at Westhaven Marina, bright blue skies and a cabbage tree (Cordyline australis), albeit a cultivar, in the foreground. A walk around the harbour side and coastal beaches is always good value. (Here’s a walk I always enjoyed.)  

And so it was farewell Auckland, hello Wisconsin, for a far-too-short week-long visit with my wonderful friend Trudey and her equally wonderful husband Roy. And what an incredible week it was, with road trips across the state to visit family, to Washington Island with a group of Trudey’s lovely women friends, and a fun day out at the Bristol Renaissance Fair, plus many delightful hours spent watching these juvenile Bald Eagles. As I’m a keen birder, these were very special times for me.

Next stop, a three-day visit to Chicago, a city I’ve always wanted to visit. It was superb. I cruised on the river, walked miles, caught up with fellow photographer and internet friend Lauri … and so much more. I loved this amazing city. I must go back!

From Chicago to Granada, in Nicaragua, for a week of photography, in workshops organised by the great team at The Giving Lens, helping to mentor these incredibly talented young adults from Empowerment International, a charitable organisation that helps the impoverished children of Nicaragua achieve a better future for themselves. It was an unforgettable week of making new friends; enjoying beautiful scenery and amazing experiences; of learning and giving back; of laughter and smiles and tears. (You can see a selection of my photographs here.)   

When I arrived in Britain, I stopped over briefly in London – always a treat and always so much to see and explore. Though it was unplanned, this time I spent hours walking in London’s wonderful and enormous inner-city parks.

Cardiff is my new home, at least for now. It's a beautiful city, close to the sea, not far from the mountains in the Brecon Beacons National Park, and with amazing parks; it has a castle and is chock-a-block full of history; it has all the conveniences of big-city living yet has the friendliness of a small town. The photo shows Roath Park lake, just ten minutes’ walk from where I’m living.

In September I had a delightful visit back with Sarah in Cheshire, partly to catch up and partly to collect a suitcase full of winter woollies I had left with her. We had a couple of great days out, to the mighty Beeston Castle with its panoramic countryside views, and a day at the seaside at Formby Sands and Southport.

Back in Cardiff, I enjoyed the halcyon days of a long Indian summer and then the incredible beauty of autumn, with daily walks to enjoy the ever-changing colours of the beautiful British trees, dressed in their autumn finery.    

Discovering the good places to birdwatch in and around Cardiff has been great fun. The huge variety of birds here is a constant delight, and I seem to see something new every week, but it’s the charming little robin that is my particular favourite. That flash of red breast on a grey wintery day, its pretty little song, and its friendliness are a constant source of joy.

British birds: Little Robin Redbreast

Cheeky and cute, little robin redbreast delights us all with its antics, both in the back garden and in woodland, and is such a favourite with the British that it was declared National Bird on 15 December 1960.

It should come as no surprise then that Robin is the name of one of the most loved characters in English children’s literature (Christopher Robin) and the country’s favourite outlaw (Robin Hood). There’s nothing like a little positive word association to help sell books or create popular heroes.

Its bright red breast makes this dainty charmer instantly recognisable and one look from its overly large beady eyes is enough to make me reach for the spade, to turn over some soil so robin can devour a worm or two. Its penchant for worms and other tiny insects is one reason the robin appears frequently to befriend gardeners – it's not really being friendly, it’s after the food you might turn up for it! And robins can often be seen following people out walking, for the same reason. Next time you’re out for a wander in a woodland, be kind and scuff up the leaves – a little robin will almost certainly fly down to see what food treats you’ve uncovered.

"Glasgow Coat of Arms" by Alex Spade.
Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

Robins do seem to be the most tame of Britain’s

wild birds, a trait that has been remarked upon for many centuries. As noted in Mark Cocker and Richard Mabey’s Birds Britannica [Chatto & Windus, London, 2005, pp.335-9], the earliest record of a robin’s tameness dates from the 6th century AD when St Serf of Culross was known to feed the robin that alighted on his head or shoulder while he prayed. The story goes that the robin was later killed by some of St Serf’s disciples but then brought back to life by Kentigern, who went on to be canonised as St Mungo and founded Glasgow’s Cathedral. No surprise then that a robin can be found in Glasgow’s Coat of Arms.

The robin’s association with the Church doesn’t stop there. From Birds Britannica I have learnt that robins have often been recorded visiting religious buildings: ‘During Charles II’s reign a robin regularly entered and sang in Canterbury Cathedral, apparently shaming the Puritan community of Kent by its regular church attendance’ and, in 1948, both The Times newspaper and BBC Radio reported that a pair of robins were nesting in the lectern at Ringsfield church in Suffolk.

The idea that the robin got its red breast by trying to remove a thorn from Jesus’ brow before the crucifixion is another religious connection, though that myth was almost certainly an attempt by early church historians to integrate the popular robin into their Christian stories.

The fact that the robin is frequently depicted 

on Christmas cards has, of course, nothing at all to do with religion. The practice of sending Christmas cards was first popularised by the Victorians in the 1860s and the postmen delivering the cards wore uniform red waistcoats. They were soon nicknamed ‘Robin Redbreasts’ and illustrators took up the idea, showing red-breasted robins delivering the mail (as this early Christmas card shows).

Although robins are usually considered to be good omens and bringers of luck – witness for example William Blake’s classic lines: ‘A robin redbreast in a cage / Puts all Heaven in a rage’ – robins also have a rather eerie association with death. Ancient wisdom warns that a robin in the house means death will soon follow, an idea I find intriguing as in my homeland, New Zealand, the same idea is attributed by the indigenous Maori people to the piwakawaka or fantail. The idea that birds are regularly seen as portents of calamity and death appears to be common amongst many cultures.

As I write this post, I can hear a robin singing in the back garden, a pretty melody but one probably intended as a territorial defence rather than a celebration. The robin may look small and dainty but it’s a warrior when defending its patch, though I suspect, as Frances Hodgson Burnett did, that some of the robin’s performance is simply to show off.

‘The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on to the top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off - and they are nearly always doing it. ~Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden