Here’s the tower as contemplated from the cloister below:

And — cutting right to the chase — here’s the opposite view, from the top, looking down at the cloister:

Another view, this one of the cemetery:

Elsewhere in the cathedral are the remains of two well-known monks: the hermit Cuthbert and the historian Bede (mentioned here not that long ago). I did overhear a comment that the bones of these two men might not be resting where they’re advertised to be, but that one or the other may in fact be buried in the cemetery in an unmarked grave! I really don’t know just what to make of that sort of talk.

The tower also affords a fine view of the palace green and the castle beyond:

It was a certain academic function at the castle that brought me to Durham to begin with, one that signaled the winding down of my English sojourn, and that proved very much a “night” to the “day” of my usual and admittedly somewhat monkish activity in the archives. I was glad, though, to catch a glimpse of these scholars in full flight, and for their stories of manuscript heists and Parisian antiquities dealers. Also appreciated was their cautious optimism regarding future prospects for the determined and more-or-less young academic!

You’ll have to pardon this photographer for favouring that distant horizon. It certainly does make a nice alternative to the usual view of late:

Anyhow, I picked up the trail just downstream of Bossoms Boatyard and the Medley Sailing Club. Not much activity there today, though I did notice some stirrings in the odd houseboat moored at the bank. There are many such boats along the river, and they seem to fall into two categories: you’ll see retirees quietly motoring down the river in their polished up vessels with cheerful (and forgettable) names, and you’ll see nondescript boats, more tarp than chrome, hunkered down along the bank.

The latter class may sport some flowerpots on the roof, and maybe a little pile of firewood (gathered from the nearby woods) stacked conveniently nearby. Or even a cow grazing in the field adjacent (see above, look closely). I guess the climate and facilities are such here that you could make a good go of living aboard year-round. Such an endeavour might be a little more difficult at home in Ottawa.

Pretty idyllic, I’d say! Further along I noticed this fellow (Grey Heron), just downstream of the Botley Road Bridge:

He caught up with me downstream, past the Osney Lock, on his way to a grassier hunting ground. I ended up leapfrogging with the green boat shown in the photo above (from the bridge) as well — I passed them as they were lock-bound, but they zipped by again just as I was heading north, into town again, and then on to home.

The phrase as offered here (on a nearby community building) seems adapted from one of historical significance, namely that given by Admiral Nelson at the battle of Trafalgar: “England expects that every man will do his duty.” There is, of course, a story behind the phrase. Originally, Nelson intended to signal ”England confides that every man will do his duty,” but his signal officer, Lieutenant John Pasco, suggested “expects” instead on account of it taking fewer signals to transmit. Nelson approved the change, and so issued “the most famous naval signal ever transmitted” (link).

(see http://www.aboutnelson.co.uk/england%20expcts.htm)

In the case of Trafalgar, it seems that the duty at hand was simple enough (although by no means easy): defeat the French and Spanish navies. How nice it is, then, when duty lies before us singular! But you and I both know that it is seldom so. Lately, at least, this notion of “duty” has certainly seemed a little more complicated. On one front, however, it proves clear enough, as the common cry among the folks at home is to “get out” and “take some pictures.”

That’s a view of the Old Bodleian Library, with the Radcliffe Camera (another library) behind me. And (believe it or not!) I did manage to depart from that comfortably well-worn bath between the two libraries. At the invitation of a friend (one with a student card — this permitting access), I spent today touring a few of Oxford’s many colleges.

The most wonderful place visited today is right here: the cloister at New College. The tree pictured above is said to be roughly 250 years old, and bears some signs of age — it’s shedding leaves at an alarming rate, and the gardener suspects “it might have something.” Still in the cloister, looking in another direction:

Look closely and you can see the gargoyles:

Open arcades surround the cloister. Sadly, there were no monks strolling through them today.

From New College we walked over to Magdalen College.

And no, I was not standing on the lawn while taking this picture. Now — and this is going back a few years — my very first job was as a grounds-keeper, and I wonder that if it had been in keeping these particular grounds, that job wouldn’t have been my very last one too!

After a brief stopover in Lilleshall (Shropshire, see above), I’ve arrived at last in Oxford. And it does seem fair to write “at last” because between paperwork, research, and other assorted arrangements, this trip has been in the making for about a year now. It’s good to be here, and to get down to the serious business of being what Milton termed — and this somewhat disparagingly — a “Ferret and Mousehunt of an Index.” But of course the libraries must close sometime (even in Oxford). They did so today at a particularly early hour, and so left me to wander about the town for a bit.

I’ve only been here for about a week but it seems already that Oxford is very much as it ought to be: full of bright young people and wise old ones. And tourists, too. Sightseeing buses (double decked, of course) circle regularly, and guided tours filter through the academic buildings. Well, at least through certain areas of them — this is the balance observed here, between access and privilege. For each sign promoting an attraction or tour there’s another reading CLOSED TO VISITORS or STRICTLY PRIVATE.

Despite Oxford’s reputation as “the city of dreaming spires,” I’ve found its character well-expressed by what’s underfoot: flawless grounds in the college quads, creaking floors in the Bodleian Library, and walkways of centuries-worn stone.

Anyhow, there’s much to look forward to here, yet as always it’s impossible to tell just what will come. On that note, I’ll leave you with a bit of verse (ca. 1640) that seemed a propos somehow:

To the House of Commons

My Masters, you that undertake the game,
looke to the Countries safety, and her fame,
are now at stake, be carefull howe you cutt,
and deale as nowe occasions put you t’ot.
The cards are strangely shuffled, for your parts,
’tis odds you never gett the ace of harts…

[Bodl. MS Douce 357]

Looks to me like a perfect mix of art and science, and just the sort of thing I’d like to tag along with if my summer wasn’t already spoken for. Anyhow, you can read more about the goals and scope of the expedition here.

Depending on which way you fly it, the flag could be either the Russian Tricolour or the Serbian National Flag. I’ll admit, though, that at first glance I wondered if it might be a French Tricolore, being just across the water from la belle province and all. Now, I just left the drapeau where I found it, even though the more considerate course of action likely would have been to rescue the sorry flag, tidy it up, and fold it. It seems slighted somehow, just lying there. But Britannia Bay is a haven for seafarers, and so a lot of the flotsam and jetsam along the shore is nautical in nature. Perhaps a wandering Russian or Serb will find it and take it home.

I also came across some more “organic” remains: a thoroughly dead seagull (sorry, no picture!), as well as a collection of shells (presumably left by a muskrat or some such creature),

…and a strip of animal fur.

One last image, a discarded baby soother:

Aside from the flag, the colour palette of today’s pictures is universally bland — with any luck things will brighten up a bit over the next few weeks.

These two Painted Turtles appeared to be facing each other on their separate logs. Many ducks were seen roving the shores, these all paired off except for one lonely fellow. As usual the Chickadees and Crows were in abundance, but I was most happy to see the White-breasted Nuthatches at work again:

For some reason I’ve come to love these birds. They’re great to watch as they nimbly make their ways around tree trunks, tentative yet industrious, with flashes of curiosity.

There were at least a couple of them in the area (east side of Mud Lake). I usually see them along the south side of Britannia Bay, but haven’t ventured over there yet this year. I did go down by the river though, over by the Britannia Yacht Club, and took photos of the water:

Today’s beach-combing yielded the usual odds and ends: an old running shoe, two empty bottles of Corona, and various shreds of plastic bags (which, at a distance, can look somewhat bird-like). But I’ll let you know if anything interesting washes up.

Sometimes our Ottawa winter starts off coy, like a flirt. These brief overtures — a breath of cold, some faint whiff of windchill — last only a moment before winter beats her hasty (but always temporary) retreat, only returning to stay for good come January. No nonsense this time around, though. Seems that in 2009 the season came fast and hard, leaving you no choice but to bundle up and hope for the best. This kind of cold, while bearable, can occasionally alter the natural order of things: times this like these you find yourself — how odd! — deeply and truly grateful for those weird and woolly sweaters that Aunt Agnes diligently sends you every year for Christmas.

Anyhow, the subjects of weirdness, woolliness, diligence, and breaths of fresh air (finally!) seem to accurately encompass the last few months’ worth of preparation for the most recent academic hurdle. The clearing of said hurdle is typically met with glad shouts of “hallelujah,” but this time I decided to leave it to the professionals — or at least to the devoted amateurs at the North Grenville Concert Choir. This circumstance was not so by choice or by chance, but due to the fact of having been wed to a chorister! Imagine that for a moment…

Now, “chorister and cook,” I suppose that ought to have read. But really, what is a community choir without cookies? You can bet that the program for the NAC performance of Handel’s Messiah doesn’t include the text: “tea and refreshments are to be served following the performance.”

How unfortunate, though, that these times of indulgence coincide with the coldest months of the year… just when the aforementioned Ottawa winter makes it that much harder to put in those few precious laps around Mud Lake.

Not so, however, for some of the season’s gillier creatures:

This from Mudpuppy Night in Oxford Mills a couple weeks ago, where the sad truth of it was that none of the titular creatures were to be seen. I guess that made it more of an Icy Cold Night in Oxford Mills, which proved significantly less interesting. One week later, however, there were reports of dozens of mudpuppies (you can see some on Bev’s blog here — terrific photos from another night).  I guess it’s all in the timing.

Speaking of which, that’s probably enough for now; apparently it’s not feasible to be “just sitting here” while there’s “so much to do before all holiday breaks loose.”

Well, on that note: have a good one.

But humans are getting the hang of it, though (celebrating Earth Day, that is – they’re already pretty darn good at fighting). Take Starbucks, for example, where they were giving free coffee to those bearing Travel Mugs. Of course, I felt like a villain just walking out of there without paying a single cent, so I bought a “cold coffee in a can” drink to make the guilt go away (that’s what shopping is for, after all).

Anyhow, my Earth Day gift to you is two pictures of morphing Wood Frog eggs:

#1 – mostly egg stage

#2 - some serious hatching going on

Last week brought a day or two’s respite from winter’s worst, and it looks like I wasn’t the only one grateful for it. Beyond the usual suspects (woodpeckers, squirrels, chickadees, bloggers) reports have come in regarding kindly groups of pigeons, two brilliant cardinals (one following/chasing the other), and a big furry thing:

Subsequent closer inspection revealed it to be a porcupine. But no clearer pictures, I’m afraid; just as I was drawing close to the base of its tree, the camera suffered a battery-related demise. Although this was somewhat frustrating at the time, I realize now that it was likely a timely inconvenience. Sneaking up on a porcupine — whether it’s asleep or not — is probably not a great idea, and calling off the chase due to technical difficulties was likely the right thing to do.

Now, I came across this fellow down by Mud Lake, which is just a short piece downstream-ish from Britannia Bay. I figure the thing to do is return to the same tree at roughly the same time of day (8:00am) and see if our friend is there again. So, stay tuned…