James Gilbert
@jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
6.8K followers 2.6K following 1.5K posts
Naturalist, ecologist, writer. “How pleasant it would be each day to think, Today I have done something that will render future generations more happy." Richard Jefferies, 1883. Location: east Northamptonshire, UK.
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jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Middle-aged me. Near-constantly thinking of times gone by, or about those lying ahead. My mind is only held still in the now by nature, when attentive to, say, flitting songbirds, nodding flowerheads, trembling leaves — then do I lose nostalgia or worry, and briefly find a sweet state of just being.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
a grey dove’s call
leaves susurrate & fall
oh for the stillness
precious though small
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Ah, thank you for saying so!
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Thank you, Shakira. And yes, their diversity and attractive colouration/patterning is somehow easy to forget!
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Inexcusable really; public transport in the UK should be *so* much better in 2025.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
sipping breakfast tea
outside a red kite’s calling
whistling kettle-like
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Just heart-warming & uplifting to hear any story like this, amid the common gloom. People are changing & clubs are changing in a positive manner. It’s also apparent that him being his true self, by speaking up about vital issues that many/most don’t see or understand, makes him feel happier.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
silver light
through the window
an owl’s call
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
from thinning trees
goldfinches billow & drift
like musical leaves
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
through the window pane
leaves shiver silhouetted
creeping silver moon
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
You remember right, Alex! Alas it wasn’t Oakhill (it looks worthwhile!) rather some degraded farmland ponds close to Goole!
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
A stock dove arrows overhead, gale-assisted, linear like a roman road, plumage a swatch of the storm clouds above.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Thank you, that’s very kind.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Variegated grey clouds drift above the flowerless mead, & the air kisses colder than of late. Each step through dew-weighted grass causes craneflies to take flight & scatter low. From a backwater willow, a light burst of chiffchaff song evokes spring, while autumn romances the heart.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Hearing the liquid chatter of goldfinches, flitting happily about the topmost branches of a streetside lime. A comforting ambient sound & suggestive of sweet innocence, rather like that of children playing outside at school breaktime.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
seedhead bronze
seen in the marsh harrier
ghosting now gone
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
a desolate fen
the linnets’ drift-chatter makes
not so desolate
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Lost in the colours, light and movement at a chalk stream turn.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Oh congratulations, Shakira!
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Thanks very much for this. I struggle sometimes with all that I feel is wrong, and often use my writing as self-help, I guess! I seek and keep the positive going via the non-human world around me, and I’m glad my posts offer you some good.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
I’m sorry to learn that. Yes, I suspect “greying gardens” etc. is a big factor.
jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Odd it must be to some, but cranefly emergence is an event I am very fond of. These delicate, gangling things strongly evoke the autumns of my outdoors-pottering youth. Now that change can be wearisome and worry comes easier, the eternal promise of their appearance is ever more comforting.
What I like to call a “drape” of craneflies, here at rest on a brick wall.