Sunday 18 November 2007


Mud is Beauty in the making,
Mud is melody awaking;
Laughter, leafy whisperings,
Butterflies with rainbow wings;
Baby babble, lover's sighs,
Bobolink in lucent skies;
Ardours of heroic blood
All stem back to Matrix Mud.

Mud is mankind in the moulding,
Heaven's mystery unfolding;
Miracles of mighty men,
Raphael's brush and Shakespear's pen;
Sculpture, music, all we owe
Mozart, Michael Angelo;
Wonder, worship, dreaming spire,
Issue out of primal mire.

In the raw, red womb of Time
Man evolved from cosmic slime;
And our thaumaturgic day
Had its source in ooze and clay . . .
But I have not power to see
Such stupendous alchemy:
And in star-bright lily bud
Lo! I worship Mother Mud.

(Robert Service)

Compare the photo above with the similar view taken on the day of the surge tide. In the distance is Mersea's historic Oyster Packing Shed.

Another bad Brent geese photo, though slightly better than last night's because taken half an hour earlier. Small snappy camera still couldn't cope, however. I will try to get out and capture them in proper daylight soon!
For a perfectly amazing 'TBTM' photo - taken while I was still tucked up in bed with a cup of tea, reading - see Sam's blog.

1 comment:

monix said...

What a wonderful poem to accompany your usual collection of inspiring photographs. I loved the hippopotamus song about glorious mud when I was a child - now I feel I must learn that poem and go in search of some mud!