Sandscale Haws

I went in search of wild pansies again. It is many years since I have been here. The road system has changed and I got lost, ending up in the heart of darkness of Barrow (jolly dangerous) and realised I had come all this way without my purse (jolly silly) but luckily had enough petrol. The air was full of rose scent, the ground was a blanket of yellow trefoil, dotted with wild pansies and orchids. It is like a magic kingdom caught between great beauty and economic deprivation.

Extra blip of a man digging bait in the Duddon Estuary.

Who Are We?  - by Kathleen Raine

Not that I remember, but that I am
Memory, am all that has befallen
Unbroken being and knowing
Whose flow has brought me here, laden with the forgotten
Times and places, once here and now
Of those who were, from day to day,
From life to life, as I,
Presences of that omnipresence without end or beginning,
Omniscient through our being,
That brings and takes away the unremembered living
Moments of joy and wisdom, the once-familiar
Rooms and temples and fountains, the long-ago gardens
Of a thousand summers, music once heard,
Travelling through me and on, like a wave
Of sound, a gleam
Irrecapturable. And who are we
Who gather each one leaf, one life of the myriadfold tree
Of the lost domain, and mourn
The flowing away of all we never were, or knew?
Promises, messages reach us, instruct us,
The untold, the untellable, undying
Heart's desire, resonance
Of elsewhere, once, some day, for ever.