Sunday 3 November 2024

First frost, 2024

My blog is a subjective account rather than an exhaustive and objective list. Over the years I have been noting the occurrence of the first frost of autumn, though not every one, only the ones that for some reason moved me to record them. So although patchy, the table below shows that date of first frost jumps around from year to year. However, a clear pattern is visible – I've not recorded first frost as late as November until 2017, and since then, not one has been noted in October.

Screening out confirmation bias – a climate-change denier might say "you simply missed out all the data points that don't fit". Well, go back over my blog and find me a first frost in November prior to 2015, or a first frost in October after 2017. There might have been one – but I didn't blog it. Not because I have an ideological axe to grind – but because it didn't move me enough to mention it. And click through the links below to check if you don't believe me.

Year Date of first frost
20243 November
202025 November
201817 November
201721 November
20159 October
201424 October
20134 October
201116 October
200931 October
200716 October

This is not meant to be empirical proof anything. It may well be that next October there's a frost as early as 1 October. The table stands as a statement that over less than two decades, there is a noticeable shift in climate; winters are getting shorter.

One benefit is that I've yet to switch on the heating. This morning at quarter to seven, the kitchen thermometer read 17.5°C inside and -3.8°C outside; boiling the kettle and making myself some porridge and toast soon warmed the kitchen up to a comfortable 20°C.

This time two years ago:
Jeziorki Park + Ride finally opens

This time three years ago:
Are you serious about going green?

This time four years ago:
Nail-biting walk
[This beckons in three days' time]

This time six years ago:
Insights in the search for consciousness

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Saturday 2 November 2024

To Warka, again

The nearness by train of Warka makes it an attractive destination for a short day out. Today's excursion takes me to the park at the eastern edge of the town, which houses the Kazimierz Pułaski museum. This (below) was his family home, Winiary, before he set off for America to become the brigadier-general and founder of the Continental Army cavalry fighting against the British for American independence.


Pułaski was fatally wounded while leading a charge at Savannah in October 1779, dying soon after. His leadership of his Cavalry Legion in the revolutionary army led to him being remembered as a hero who fought for independence and freedom in the US. Pułaski's name lives on in many American towns, counties, parks, highways. Warka sees Kazimierz Pułaski as the town's most famous son. Right: Pułaski's statue in the park by the family home, Winiary; his date of birth in 1747 and death in Savannah in 1779 are noted.


Basking in the autumnal sun, a terracotta pair outside the Pułaski museum. Round the base, translated lines from T.S. Eliot's The Hollow Men: "Waking alone/At the hour when we are/Trembling with tenderness/Lips that would kiss/Form prayers to broken stone."

Incidentally, The Hollow Men begins with a famous quote from Joseph Conrad's The Heart of Darkness: "Mistah Kurtz – he dead." a neat circular nod to another Polish legend.

The museum parklands slope down towards the banks of the Pilica, from where I continued my stroll upstream back towards the town. Despite the gorgeous day (once again entirely cloudless), there were few people out and about, though the town's newly opened pump track attracted a goodly number of mountain-bike racers.


Crossing Warka, I passed the town's other significant producer of alcoholic beverages (the first being the Warka brewery owned by Żywiec/Heineken); this is Warwin SA (below), producer of not-from-concentrate apple juices, ciders and fruit wines. Like several other businesses I passed, there are signs outside saying that the firm requires employees. The Grójec poviat or district, of which the gmina or municipality of Warka is part, currently has an unemployment rate of 2.6%, compared to 5.0% for Poland overall. Shops and restaurants are also finding difficulty recruiting employees.


Having fallen on harder times, Warka's flour mill stands abandoned. I daresay it would make for an attractive block of post-industrial loft spaces.


Back to my favourite thoroughfare in Warka, ulica Lotników, below. There's some universally pan-European feel about the place – it's like it could be a somnolent village in rural Spain, France, Portugal or Italy rather than half an hour by InterCity train from Warsaw.


The sun, even at its zenith, is low in the sky, casting long shadows. On the short train journey back to Chynów, the fields and forests and orchards were stunningly gorgeous, setting me adrift on those familiar moments of exomnesia; recognition that consciousness spans more than a lifetime.

This time last year:
Early-November reflections

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Friday 1 November 2024

All Saints' Day, Chynów

A day of importance for me; my mother died on this day in 2015; my father on 28 October in 2019. The time of year, as nights draw in and darkness spreads, makes one mindful of the presence among us of death – the separation of consciousness from the biological body.

I walked to Chynów to wander around the graves, visited by the families of the dead. Bearing bags full of large candles, they clean the graves and bring light to their loved ones' places of rest. A beautiful tradition – eminently more meaningful than the tacky commercialism of Hallowe'en.

Below: I arrive about half an hour after sunset, the western sky still iridescent, purple-gold.


Below: it seems that most of the visits have already taken place; rare is the grave without any candles upon it.


Below: looking west towards the newest sectors of the cemetery, I daresay a few Covid victims here too. Visitors are well-dressed and dignified. A solemn and important occasion. I frame shots so as to avoid including people.


Below: looking east across from the western edge of the cemetery. As a general observation, I was shocked by how young the average person buried here were when they died. Most men died in their mid 60s, with those dying in their 80s being outliers.

Prelude: before setting off for the cemetery, I went for a shorter walk to catch the autumn colours on the sunlit trees. Below: the path to the forest passes through a small thicket separating two orchards.


Left: the track leading down from Jakubowizna to Grobice, orchards and woods on either side. The local authorities had to abandon plans to asphalt this into a proper road, but the farmers didn't want to sell their land to widen the track. So grass triumphed, and I must say I'm rather glad.

Below: looking north as the setting sun illuminates the golden treetops. The sky is perfectly clear; the apples have all been picked.

Postscript: I left the cemetery by the rear gate leading down to the river, and turned right towards ulica Parkowa. "Interesting... there are lights on in one of the shops..." I got closer and a wonderful sight befell me. A kebab shop! Doing boffo biz – from ordering my large beef kebab in thin pitta bread with hot sauce to finishing it, I reckon that about 20 people must have come in, including two Nepalese women. Now, a Nepalese restaurant is something else I'd love to see in Chynów! I hope the Luxor Kebab does well and encourages the local population that eating out is a good thing, encouraging others to open up some more eateries in Chynów.


This time two years ago:
Thoughts on the occasion of Allhallowtide 

This time two years ago:
Four days of sublime Golden Autumn

This time five years ago:
Obit

This time six years ago:
Good News

This time eight years ago:
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