Yesterday I happened upon a quote that said: Bad weather is always worse viewed through a window. I thought this a little absurd at first glance but then considered how I feel on my early morning runs, which are becoming something of a daily habit now.
Finally taking the advice of my Swedish friends who have no choice but to gear up for wintry climes, I’ve been donning thermals under my running kit or a cagoule on top of it, plus a hat and glove, so I can go out even in freezing temperatures or the rain. And the weather really does look worse through a window, or rather when you’re looking out on the world while stood in your PJs, in a warm cosy house, in a state of semi-slumber.
As long as I’m kitted up appropriately, the moment I step outside the door, I always feel better. And when I finally reach The Flats, the feeling is amplified ten-fold. Today was no exception.
I could already see that it was going to be magnificent sunrise from the bottom of my road, as candy floss clouds collected to my South East. Due north, up and over a railway bridge gives me a higher aspect of the rising sun and usually urges me on to get up to The Flats quicker so I’m there for the golden moment.
Today the ‘golden moment’ was a triptych. As the sun started to rise in the East so the full Wolf Moon still lingered quite high in the sky to the west, a luminescent vision masquerading behind undulating layers of pink and purple clouds. As the moon finally vanished from sight, so the sun rose up behind the aptly named Golden Fleece Pub towards Manor Park, one of the biggest and brightest sunsets I’ve seen for a while.
I changed course to run directly into its rays, past loose groups of dog walkers stopping to get their own daily fix of solar power, and on past Lunar Pond (my name for Alexandra Pond) where the sky then took on divine proportions: a Golden Ratio of sun, sky and clouds. If someone had said the heavens were going to open that very moment and a miracle manifested on the good folk of Forest Gate, I might very well have believed them.
No miracle has taken place as yet – at least, there are no reports of one on the various local Facebook pages that be – but there was further morning magic to come for me. What I’d really come up to The Flats this morning for was to continue my search for our resident little owl.
I’ve known that there are little owls on Wanstead Flats for a couple of years but never come across one despite always keeping one eye peeled. Then on Wednesday a friend spotted one in a copse of trees where our children play sometimes. Apparently it had been sat in the same spot since Saturday, or more likely coming back to the same spot everyday – a favoured branch near its nest perhaps.
I searched in vain on Thursday, so decided to come back this morning and just when I was about to give up, there he (for convenience) was in the nook of a neighbouring tree, just above a hollow that may well be his home. My heart actually skipped a beat.
I’ve always loved owls but the Little Owl (Athene noctua) is one of my favourites with speckled plumage, oversized head, intent yellow eyes under quizzical white eyebrows, and slightly grumpy countenance. This was one so tiny I could only just see it with my bare eyes, bobbing its head up and down to avoid my stare.
Finding it hard to take a picture with the sun behind it, I moved around to the other side of the tree hoping to witness a 360º turn of the head. True to form, little owl turned its neck to stare back at me. And so we perched – me on a tussock of grass and the owl on its branch – for a good few minutes.
Eventually, my presence did seem to unnerve him and he flew off to regain his privacy at the other end of the copse. I’ve promised the kids I’ll introduce them to him though, so am hoping that he flies back to his original spot soon.
For the first time in ages, if anyone asks how I am today, I can honestly say I’m great. The force of the sun, the moon and the owl is with me.