HOWLS OF HOME

HERE BE NO DRAGONS

Here be no dragons

Though stiffened necks nod

Over greenbelt and wildwood

No breathing integrity 

Of flame and tongue

Here be duplicity

Wolfing up landscape

Flogged to the fattest

Fracking our green

Blindfold off the cliff

St George with his breastplate gone

Bare to the drill

TREE GONE SOLO

Here's a poem for all you lovely readers inspired by a recent walk around my local Wickersley Wood on the outskirts of Rotherham. There's a particular tree there that grows apart from the main body of woodland. Readers of my poems and stories will understand how deeply my imagination's affected by the natural world around me. Here's another fragment for you of my lifelong lovesong to the beautiful landscapes of my native Yorkshire. 

Goatsucker Harvest: Now in paperback, too!

I spent this week climbing the feverish learning curve that is independent publishing. Margins, bleed, trim sizes, formatting, ISBNs...to get Goatsucker Harvest into paperback and out to the small (but very important to me) group of readers who still prefer to have a physical copy of a book rather than on Kindle. They want to touch it. Feel it. Flip the pages. Sniff it. Gift it to friends. Have it signed. Turn the corners down. Caress the glossy cover (is that just me?)

So here it is. It'll be live and available on Kindle and also in paperback on Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.com and CreateSpace estore. I've proofed the proofs and nodded the authorial nod for its launch.

Trouble at t'mill that'll haunt your dreams and warm your heart forever!

Please, if you enjoy it, pop a quick review on Amazon to let others know what they're missing and what they've got to look forward to! Thank you so much!

You can read reviews here.

Goatsucker Harvest: stunning settings beyond Doncaster the unwary traveller seldom dares to explore!

The Stainforth & Keadby Canal at Thorne

Information Board by English Nature showing the Nightjar (aka "goatsucker") to lure you onto wonderful Thorne Moors

I hope many of you are already enjoying exploring the haunting setting of "Goatsucker Harvest" in your mind's eye. I know some of you are, even though it's not been published for a whole week yet!

I know because I've already been chided for interfering with people's Christmas preparations, for encroaching on people's sleep late into the night with Kindles under the sheets and for lowering people's body temperature with the description of life on a Humber Keel in the middle of an icy February in that first chapter!

As soon as I first ventured out onto Thorne Moors, on the Humberhead Levels, back in the summer of 2005, my imagination was possessed and senses thrilled by this fragile and extraordinary wilderness wonderland. It crept into my psyche, whispering in the voices of my ancestors who lived and died around these bleak peatlands stretching for miles in every direction around Doncaster, to Thorne, Fishlake, Stainforth, Hatfield, Crowle, Epworth, Belton, Goole and Rawcliffe to the north.

Many of my people, like Thirza Holberry's family in "Goatsucker Harvest", were keelmen and women, mariners and water gypsies, born to live and work on the boats that came inland on the Stainforth and Keadby Canal, the River Don and the South Yorkshire navigation waterways that zigzag across the peaty dykes and warp drains,  joining this weird flat landscape to the restless North Sea.

Beware of adders - a warning Thirza learns to heed from Bram in "Goatsucker Harvest" chapter 9!

Other characters in the book share their names, their sensibilities, their occupations with my own people who scraped a living from this forgotten paradise of Northern England, still the largest area of raised peat bog wilderness in lowland Britain, land partially reclaimed by the Dutch drainage engineers under Sir Cornelius Vermuyden in the 17th century.

This bizarre backdrop is home to as many rare and precious creatures and plants as you will find anywhere in the UK: nightjars (the "goatsuckers" of the title), adders, lizards, dragonflies, cottongrass and sphagnum mosses. Somewhere in the region of 4,000 animal and plant species live here, including 25 of the rarest of all found in Britain, like the giant raft spider and the mire pill beetle.

If you aren't able to come to the moors today, why not explore with me in your wildest imagination? The landscape of "Goatsucker Harvest" is waiting for you, seldom travelled by the faint of heart, full of hidden treasures and unnerving mystery, be it unseen menace or life-enhancing transformation.

Purple Vetch and Bracken on Thorne Moors

Noticeboard showing the Nightjar (aka "goatsucker") on Thorne Moors [English Nature]

Path towards Thorne Moors: the drama of the Levels

Peatland path across Thorne Moors

A wonderfully wet wilderness

'GOATSUCKER HARVEST' by Joyce Barrass is available here on Kindle

Little Birchover

I feel you teasing back the cuticle of the wood

Crafting this clearing from nip and nod

We nickname it other than known on the map

As our secret local upland Peak

Right here where exhaustion still can stalk

I hear you in throats of swithering birds

Blackbird plumping up leaves under oaks

With harrumphing tuts

Where acorns hurt soles with unyielding treen

Scuttle through beech masts and lichens velveteen

I see you drizzling sunbeams over autumn fields

Flattened by bonfires and the winter's heels

Firedamp flickers in the stars smudged frost

Planets glimmering out and over

While the moon's fragile crust burns ochre

I smell your lit lamp of cadmium and glass

Tallow wax mournful as the twilight lasts

Even the squirrel is dreyed and tucked

But your comfort salts my spirit's ache

As rays flatline then vanish in earth's dimpled lake

I taste you as love in the air's liquid kiss

Soothing my temples with powder-soft peace

The path from the wood runs its fingers through me

But you, guest and gatherer, map and plumb

Lead me home in your arms with your whisper: Come!

Chatsworth's "Revelation" Fountain: The Rhythm of Life is A Powerful Beat!

A couple of posts ago I was rambling about Blanche's Vase at Chatsworth.


Chatsworth House has other hidden corners just as restful but a bit more modern. The Revelation Water Sculpture is a hypnotic and stunning fountain, designed by sculptor Angela Connor, installed at Chatsworth in 1999.


The most famous water feature at Chatsworth is definitely the Cascade, 300 years old, a picturesque liquid ribbon flowing down 24 stone steps cut into the landscape above the House.

The Cascade in the grounds of Chatsworth House originally completed in 1696 and fed by four lakes

The 'Revelation' is less well known, but is a piece of simple modern engineering that will stay in your heart forever. Like a well oiled piece of organic clockwork, it sets its own rhythm. As you stand or sit to watch its elegant, unhurried cycle, perhaps it has something to teach us about the pace of our own lives.

Its in the form of a flower bud opening and closing its petals. Its motion is down to the pressure of water flowing from the sculpture. These photos I took show the stages of its dance:

Closed bud with water flowing over its shiny surfaces

Gradually the weight of water within causes the petals to unfold outwards...

...revealing the golden heart within.

As the flower fully opens, the water drains back into the surrounding lake

Letting the flower close again

Ready to start the cycle again, drawing visitors away from the rush of life to share the healing heartbeat of nature

Chatsworth's sculptures blend with the natural landscape beyond

Water and stone in harmony

Chatsworth's formal and natural gardens and buildings set in the splendour of the Derbyshire Peak District

Pseudoacacia Robinia 'Frisia', an Australasian visitor holds its own special sunshine at Chatsworth