Another new bus stop for ul. Karczunkowska

Despite the pandemic, the City of Warsaw is not neglecting public transport. Nearly two years after the opening to traffic of the viaduct over the railway line at W-wa Jeziorki station, pleas of local residents for a more convenient bus stop have been met. I too remonstrated with with the authorities. I wrote to complain that the siting of the bus loop to the west of the railway line was bad news for anyone shopping at Biedronka, nearly half way between the station and the next bus stop (Trombity), and a new one was required. Lo and behold, here it is. We have it. It's official. Here is the new stop, Nawłocka, on Warsaw public transport's website (wtp.waw.pl).

Below: this is Nawłocka 01. Note the zig-zag markings on the roadway and the yellow, knobbly paving for the visually impaired. The bus stop sign is temporary. Note also the portable toilet to the left. 

This suggests that the bus stop on the other side (Nawłocka 02) is also temporary, and that the builders will be back to build a permanent bus stop that meets the design requirements. It can't be situated directly opposite, as two simultaneously stopped buses would block the road - I can only presume it will be located further west (ie behind where I was standing to take this photo), as there's not the space for one further to the east, nor where the temporary one is located (below).

 

Below: "Bus Stop, Bus Stop, are you ready to do the bus stop?" Ten past six on a Sunday evening, you must be joking! Photo taken on 29 August.

I hope that our decades-long wait for a pavement for the stretch of ul. Karczunkowska between Nawłocka and Trombity bus stops may soon be over. This is an extremely dangerous stretch for pedestrians. The worst part, over 220 metres long (below), has but a grass/earth verge that fills with rainwater or snow to make walking along it impossible if you want to keep your footwear clean and dry. At least one local resident has been killed by traffic here. Imagine walking along here in the dark on a rainy winter night. If Nawłocka 02 bus stop is placed here, the dangerous part of my journey home from the station will at least be some 20 metres shorter.

Nawłocka is the second new bus stop for ul. Karczunkowska in just over three years; Pozytywki 01 and 02 were opened in June 2018, serving the PWPW state security-printing plant and the new logistics and office park. Jeziorki is becoming a well-connected part of Warsaw!

This time last year:
Energy, focus and state of mind

This time two years ago:

50 years on - Gunnersbury Grammar school reunion

This time four years ago:
All things visible and invisible

This time six years ago:
Work starts on Warsaw-Radom rail modernisation

This time seven years ago:
Won't be long 'til summertime is through

This time nine years ago:
It was a good year for the apples

This time 11 years ago:
Early-September moan about the commuting

September

Summer's over - meteorological summer, at least, ended yesterday. Yet astronomical summer continues through unto 21:21 (Warsaw time) on 22 September, when the sun will cross the equator, heading south, marking the beginning of astronomical autumn in the Northern Hemisphere. And so it is that the date marking the transition from the summer to the autumn of one's life also varies. Maintaining a cheerful disposition, as I noted the other day, is useful. 

As is a helping of Earth, Wind & Fire, exuberantly funking their way through September.

Walking around Jakubowizna at this time of year brings delight after delight. Below, a rowan bush, jarzębina (Sorbus aucuparia). The fruit is attractive, but bitter in taste - and purgative. The key ingredient in jarzębiak.

Below: out of the orchards, into the wood. Apple picking has started; you can hear it - voices, portable radios, the sound of apples being placed in plastic buckets - but rarely can you see it behind the serried rows of trees.

In the forest, tree-felling is still in progress; logs have been gathered up and are awaiting transport.

Beyond the forest, more apples. I have one rule here - I'll never take apples off the tree. That's theft - depriving the farmer of income. I will, however, pick fallen apples off the ground. I cut the bruised parts away, and peel the skin, which will have absorbed high doses of pesticide. One apple a day is more than enough to provide an 80g-portion of the fruit.

Below: an oak apple gall growing on an oak leaf. Inside, the larva of a gall wasp.

Below: on the road to Machcin II. Up to the end, turn right, and through the main part of Jakubowizna, where the new pavement is being laid on one side of the road, the drainage ditch being cleaned and deepened on the other.

Water-tank sunset's fine, Chynów. Ulica Działkowa runs through puddles into town, apple orchards on both sides.

Back on the działka I experience elation at the wonder of it all. I catch sight, well over the horizon by now, Jupiter - at first I thought it was an airliner approaching from the south-east, but a snap with the 70-300mm lens zoomed right out shows clearly the planet's four Galilean moons.

And that brings us back, dear reader, to Earth, Wind & Fire's horns rousing Jupiter: those horns are something - punching out 25 notes in 4.1 seconds with total, synchronised precision to give the effect of hammers stabbing - brilliant.

Hope you enjoyed the music! 

This time two years ago:
Fiftieth anniversary of me starting grammar school

This time three years ago:
Two films about the legendary Polish 303 Sqn

This time five years ago:
Kępno's intriguing station

This time seven years ago:
Thoughts occasioned by the 75th anniversary of the outbreak of WW2

This time eight years ago:
A green light for consumer spending

This time ten years ago:
Procrastination - is it the same as laziness?

This time 12 years ago:
Remembering the outbreak of WW2

Late summer moods with mushrooms

My walk took me through Machcin II; as I passed a small forest, mainly pines, I noted smell familiar from childhood - mushrooms. We used to pick mushrooms in Oxshott Common - but since leaving the parental home, I've not done it again. And (puzzlingly) never during my 24 years in Poland, where mushroom picking is a big thing. My parents taught me the mushroom-picking lore - the importance of podłoże - the terroir - sandy soil, pine trees, moss, dips in the forest floor, lift the whole mushroom out of the earth rather than cutting the stalk with a knife. We'd go armed with a wicker basket, which most Sunday mornings would contain 20 to 30 nice specimens. On return, the mushrooms would be dried or marinaded in jars of vinegar with onions and carrots. 

The smell brought it all back. I decide in an instant to turn off the path and go into the wood - just then I see a few metres away an old woman emerging from the trees, holding in her hand a large plastic shopping bag full of mushrooms. Six or seven kilos, I'd guess. Had she scoured the forest floor clean of all edible species? For the first time in decades, I take a determined look for Boletus edulis - prawdzwiki, porcini - in my books, the finest of all mushrooms, with a velvety brown cap and a creamy-yellow spongy underside. I spend about ten minutes and find nothing but various species of poisonous fungi, death caps (Amanita phalloides) and toadstools. Eating one is often lethal; death from liver and kidney failure ensues after six to 16 days. Nasty.

Clearly, the old woman has done a thorough job. I try another patch of forest a few hundred metres away. Again, ten minutes, head bowed, close to the forest floor. Again, plenty of fungi, none of them edible. Poisonous mushrooms make no attempt to hide themselves, the boletus is not easy to find. But then - bingo! That's a maślak żółty if memory serves me... (below, back on the działka). I put the pic up on Twitter and within minutes have my identification confirmed by Daria, Bożena and Janusz (many thanks!). I am drying these for future consumption. Incidentally, while Polish Wikipedia (link above) says that the maślak żółty (Suillus grevillei) "is tasty and has the texture of meat, English Wikipedia says that S. grevillei "is an edible mushroom (without consistency nor flavor) if the slimy cuticle is removed off the cap, which can cause intestinal issues".

But what are these? Prawdziwki? Skin on the cap is too light, not velvety, and there's a skin on the underside, beneath which lies a spongy flesh - pores, not rills. Any ideas? Immature maślaki?

Below: a puffball (Bovista aestivalis) - kurzawka zmienna. The local mushroom-picking community is completely uninterested in these. The zmienna ('changeable') in the name refers to how the insides change as the mushroom matures. Pick them early, the flesh is white and edible.

Leave it too late, and the flesh turns to spores, literally a million million of them (ten to the power of 12), which escape in a cloud as the mushroom finally bursts open to release them, its outer skin remaining like a deflated balloon. Below: the flesh has ripened. No good.

Below: can you smell that smell? Very characteristic of late summer/early autumn, especially after rain.

Below: nasty, poisonous 'shrooms, by the side of the path back to my działka, in plain sight, nibbled on by the wildlife. 

Below: a modern, well-invested commercial orchard. All correct. Trees kept low and tight, easy assess for cultivation and picking, under nets (keeps birds off). Apples are a dependable crop; an ever-greater acreage of local land is heading this way. And yet the boletus resists all attempts to cultivate it commercially.

This time six years ago:
Gold Train rush: the search intensifies

This time seven years ago:
The Vistula from on high

This time 10 years ago:
Bad car day

This time 11 years ago:
Dragonfly summer

This time 12 years ago:
"What do we want?" "Early retirement!"

This time 14 years ago:
Greenhouse sunset

Age and Ego: Part II

My childhood was filled with constant wonders - pure consciousness had the upper hand. 

There were two of me really. One was 'głupi Michaś' who'd occasionally do or say stupid things - but głupi Michaś rarely had the upper hand. When left to his own devices, 'mądry Michaś' was in charge, spending time playing, observing, reading, pondering, playing, imagining, experiencing, thinking, playing, watching the clouds, feeling what it is to be alive - again. 

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." [I Corinthians 13:11] 

But the road to from childhood to manhood goes through adolescence.

As teenagers, the ego, the biology, takes control. Any vestigial childhood sensitivity is roughly stamped upon by a stupid, brutish urge to position oneself as high up the mammalian pecking order as possible. The worst time for this is between the ages of 13 and 16 - an absolutely insufferable period, particularly for boys. For me anyway, the Sixth Form years, preparation for university, was a tipping point away from this mindless hormone-driven behaviour, and the battle between the biological ('bad') me and the conscious ('good') me ceased being a one-way walkover. Stupidity and embarrassing behaviour would make less and less frequent appearances.

Grow into manhood, into the late spring and early summer of life, nothing affected me as much as the new responsibilities of fatherhood. Now I am in the early autumn, the sun still shines, the trees are full of fruit. There is time, but it must not be wasted.

I am happiest when I am The Eyes Without A Face - A Consciousness Moving Across the Surface of the Planet - observing, but not observed, out on countryside walks. Myself and my little patch of the planet. Not my ego - not an ageing biological entity - but a spirit that's lived before and will live again. 

All of us who seek God shall find God but in their own way; I feel I have indeed found my way - so now, onward.

William Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality suggests that a child is born aware of a past life, but as he gets older, he loses sight of the wonders; the "vision splendid" goes on to "fade into the common light of day." I beg to differ; I am regaining sight of those wonders. But then Wordsworth wrote Intimations of Immortality when he was 34; at that age I was also closer to the common light of day than to the vision splendid. To get there, the ego must fade away.

This time last year:
First inklings of the end of summer

This time three years ago:

Nikon's new mirrorless cameras - too big and heavy for me

This time seven years ago:
Short, sharp diet proves I'm allergy-free

This time eight years ago:
More photos from Radom Air Show

This time nine years ago:
Twilight on ul. Karczunkowska 

This time 12 years ago:
First hints of autumn in the air

This time 13 years ago:
Slovakia - we were not impressed

This time 14 years ago:
Jeziorki - late August cultivation

Age and Ego: Part I

In my father's final years, I'd observe him catching sight of himself in the mirror and seeing an old man, bent and frail. He'd try to straighten his back. He'd look at himself again, as if realising the inevitability of human physical decline. Yet he'd never fall into despondency, maintaining a cheerful disposition. 

Some people slide into old age with resignation; others try to fight it, or complain, or rage ineffectually against the physical hardships it brings. And as you age, your appearance diverges further and further from the human ideal. Some people will go to great lengths to maintain a youthful appearance, raising sly chuckles. Others will let themselves go, causing visual and olfactory discomfort to others. A balance far from each extreme needs to be struck. 

My father had the right answer - decouple the ego and its home, the human body, from the consciousness, the human spirit. 

He was rarely down. His mind was always curious and observant; he'd read, do small home-maintenance tasks, work in the garden and stay up to date with current affairs. He was secure of his place in the heavens, a Universe of stars. Church-going helped; although he took Holy Communion each week, he never talked about his faith, which I guess was his and his alone.

My father gave me a clear (though unspoken) lesson as to living out one's later years. Focus on the inner being, the awareness within, and distance yourself from the shallow ego. Our 'shell of foam' is short-lived; consciousness - like atoms - eternal.

I am also minded of the opening of the Coen brothers' film A Serious Man: "Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you." Ageing is something that happens to all of us. Accept it with equanimity.

How we age is down to factors of our own choosing - diet, exercise, lifestyle - and external factors - genes, environment, circumstances over which we have no control. Recent studies on telomeres (the caps at the ends of each stand of DNA in our bodies) conducted on twins, suggest that avoiding stress is the biggest single factor that determines quality of life. [This is worth watching.] 

"Not to autumn will I yield/Not to winter even!*" The body will yield; the spirit not.

My father with my daughter, Ealing, September 1994 - more than a quarter-century of life ahead of him.

Age and Ego: Part II here

*The Vagabond, from Robert Louis Stevenson's Songs of Travel.

This time last year:
Getting there

This time last year:

Best and worst rail journeys in one day

This time three years ago:
What's new around Jeziorki

This time six years ago:
Hydrology - droughts, floods and sandbanks

This time eight years ago:
Radom air show - Part 1

This time nine years ago:
Restricting passenger movement and safety

This time ten years ago:
Seasonal fruit - eat it in bulk, while you can!

This time 12 years ago:
Russia-Polish 'unification', 1939-style

What happened at Monks Wood

Sixty years ago, the last crop of barley was harvested from a four-hectare field in Cambridgeshire. The field was closed off to humans and Nature was left to deal with it. Monks Wood Wilderness has been a long-term experiment in re-wilding, to observe what would happen to arable land once man stopped cultivating it. The result - a forest with a tall canopy. It didn't happen quickly. At first, brambles and thorns, low shrubs dominated, but then trees (mainly oaks), seeded by birds and squirrels, began to take over. As the trees grew taller, their leaf canopy blocked sunlight from falling on the ground, the grasses, bushes and shrubs died off.

"The result is a structurally complex woodland with multiple layers of tree and shrub vegetation, and accumulating deadwood as the habitat ages. This complexity offers niches for a wide variety of woodland wildlife, from fungi and invertebrates in the dead logs and branches, to song thrushes, garden warblers and nuthatches which nest in the ground layer, understorey and tree canopy."

Next door to my działka is a 4,000m2 (one acre) patch of land that, according to the neighbour on the other side, has not seen any human presence since he was a child, 45 years ago. The land - whatever it was before - is now native forest, its floor bereft of the rich meadowland plantlife next door on my działka, meadowland full of flowers and wild grasses, brambles, berries and some fruit trees. The forest is bounded by an overgrown zone about 10m deep to the south, about 5m to the east and west and slightly less to the north. This is where the sunlight does reach the ground unhindered; the resulting spiky thickets make it hard for humans to intrude into the forest. But once inside, the floor is remarkably clear of grass, shrubs or bushes - it's leaf-mulch and pine needles, mushrooms (sadly inedible) and molehills. Trees topple and rot. Common aspen (Populus tremens, in Polish osika) is the predominant tree, with oak and pine growing around the fringes of the wood. The aspen is a brittle tree, liable to snap when bent by strong winds. Below: looking north, the evening sun streaming through the trees.

Below: looking west towards my działka, the low shrubs marking the border zone, beyond which my fence.

Meanwhile, on my działka, an oak sapling that I'd observed last year sprouting out of what had once been a neatly-kept lawn, is growing, albeit with powdery mildew affecting its upper leaves, and oak apples (galls) on a lower leaf. The mildew, says Wikipedia, can be dealt with by spraying with triadimefon, propiconazole, hexaconazole, myclobutanil or penconazole. Mowy nie ma! A better remedy is spraying with milk, diluted with water ten to one.

Doing my bit - these two oak seedlings were still in jars four days ago have now been 'released into their habitat' - I wish them a long future, untroubled by pests or disease, and many acorns.

Just over 30% of the land surface of Poland is covered with forest (the UK is a mere 13%, of which half is native woodland, the rest is commercial forestry). The EU average is 38%, pulled up by Finland (73%) and Sweden (68%). Our planet needs more trees; I'm doing my bit to encourage them to grow on my land, and hope that the forest next door remains untouched.

Woodland is one issue, another is hedgerows, a very English institution, not something seen so often in Poland. The UK is also encouraging the replanting of hedgerow, half of which have disappeared since 1945; maybe Polish farmers could follow this example, and grow some! Historian Adam Zamoyski once said that his great-grandfather, to please his children's English governess, homesick for her native Kent, ordered the planting of hedgerows across Zamojszczyzna to make her feel more at home. A good move.

This time two years ago:
Loss, faith and consolation

This time four years ago:
Summer's wasting away

This time five years ago:
Warsaw remembers the PASTa building capture

This time six years ago:
Drought. It was a dry summer.

This time eight years ago:
Warsaw's ski slope at Szczęśliwice

This time nine years ago:
On the road from Dobra, again

This time ten years ago:
August storm, ul. Targowa

This time 11 years ago:
Warsaw Central's secret underground kebab factory

This time 12 years ago:
Cheap holidays in other people's misery

This time 13 years ago:
Steam welcomes us to Dobra

This time 14 years ago:
New houses appear in the fields by Zgorzała

Qualia meditations

Coffee should be taken once a day, first thing in the morning. Yesterday, I fancied a cup around two pm. A small cup, one heaped tablespoon of ground coffee. Now, as is pointed out by anticoffee activist Michael Pollan, coffee has a half-life of six hours, which means a quarter life of 12 hours (ie it still retains a quarter of its potency 12 hours after ingestion). So, it's two am, and though I had no problems falling asleep three hours earlier, I couldn't return to sleep after waking for a wee.

No matter! Time to meditate!

But how?

A fresh insight came to me on my walk yesterday that the essence of qualia - a subjective experience, depends on having something objective, something material to have the qualia of! We might not agree as to the taste sensation of coriander or aniseed or chilli pepper, but we can all agree that such things physically exist, even though we all experience them differently.

Now, the essence of classic nonduality meditation is emptying the mind of objective thoughts (about what's on my to-do list, my worries etc), switching off the train of thought, and focusing down on the subjective innermost essence of me-ness - namely consciousness. Arriving at such a perfect state brings about a state of unity - your consciousness is on a par with every other conscious being in the Universe. And this, according to panpsychics, is every single subatomic particle.

So - here I am lying awake at half past two in the morning when I have another insight: Imagine brushing the tip of your nose with a feather. A wing feather or downy feather? You can indeed imagine both. Widthwise or lengthwise? Again, imagine both. This is the essence of qualia memory - capturing the experience for recall at a future time. 

Here's another experience of qualia to meditate upon; more usual this time. Imagine washing your hands. Run the tap, pick up the bar of soap, rub your hands together  under the flow of the warm water, feel your hands becoming slippery as the dirt starts to lift away; you rinse the soap off, dry your hands on a warm, fluffy towel, sensing the inner pleasure of knowing you have clean hands.

I take this further. I imagine washing my hands in the cloakroom of my primary school, Oaklands Road, Hanwell, London W7, the early 1960s. The specific smell of the small, cream-coloured institutional bars of soap. The slim metal chain connecting the rubber plug to the washbasin. The hairline crackles in the smooth ceramic. The gurgle of the water disappearing down the plughole. The machine that dispenses the long roll of cloth hand-drying towel... you pull a length down with a clunk, dry your hands, the next boy goes up to it... clunk. The clanging of a hand-bell, rung by Miss. Playtime is over! Back to the classrooms...

A short example of qualia meditation. I have conjured up a qualia memory, something objective, yet experienced subjectively by me, 55 years ago. 

Back to last night. I am on the point of falling asleep, when I remember a dream or dreams of a levitating hoop, and using it to travel between Ealing Broadway and Pitshanger Lane. Imagine a hoop, the sort you'd have in school PE classes, or a hula-hoop. Imagine it floating horizontally about a metre above the ground. You step into it, grasping opposing edges with your hands. You then lift your feet off the ground. The hoop wobbles, but it supports your weight - your feet stay off the ground. You lean back, then you hook one leg, then the other, over the hoop. You are fully supported by the hoop; backs of knees, hands, forearms and upper back all resting on it. It feels unstable, but you are hovering a metre off the pavement. Using your hand nearest the garden wall, you begin to propel yourself forward. You are gliding, but as you slow down, you once again need to give yourself some momentum by pulling yourself on a gate or roadsign or street light, and so, wobbling, unstable, but still a metre off the ground, you are moving along. Now this is a dream qualia memory. The memory of a dream, returned. I fall asleep.

All meditation requires one to set aside the ego. Neither a moment of triumph nor embarrassment; not a moment of despair or jubilation - just a moment of being supremely aware of all around, the consciousness pure, unsullied by your biology or predicament. The moment when the calm 'inner you' - not the 'outer you' visible to others or to you in reflections - is aware of being.

This time seven years ago:
Public and private land in Poland

This time eight year:
Two Warsaw sunsets over water

This time 11 years ago:
Farewell to the old footbridge over Puławska

This time 12 years ago:
Let's ban cars with engines over 2.0 litres

This time 14 years ago:
Ul. Kórnicka gets paved over

The trees - spare them or use them?

On my way back from Machcin the other day, I noticed a sign that I would have seen I had I come up from the other way - 'Tree-felling in progress - Entry forbidden'. What's going on? I check.

Tree-felling is indeed in progress, thinning out the forest at the top of my road. Too early to say how much of the forest will go (this has only just started this week).

The fact that the John Deere forestry harvester is parked up here over the weekend suggests the work is far from over, and that plenty more trees are destined for the chop.

Below: big trees on their way to be processed into timber. As building materials go, wood is more environmentally friendly than concrete. And why, the Norwegians are even building wooden skyscrapers. The way forward? Wooden towers at the expense of forests?

Also for the chop is this cherry orchard across the tracks. Cherries (in particular the sour variety) are not a good crop for farmers - market prices are mercurial and kilo-for-kilo they are far more expensive to pick compared to good old apples. This particular orchard went unharvested this season. My guess is that these will make way for apple trees.

Meanwhile, the apples are doing well again this year. Different varieties, growing in different orchards, mature at different times - the last apple-picking is still three months away, but the very first ones are already on their way to market (below). Photo taken between Dąbrowa Duża and Widok.

Below: these are looking good. A modern orchard, low, young trees, concrete posts, rows as close together as a mechanised equipment will allow. A far cry from the mature orchards with large, spreading trees bearing traditional Mazovian varieties - these are disappearing fast. The margins are to be made in supermarket-perfect fruit with the right sweetness.

Meanwhile, on the działka, my oak seedlings are doing well (about one in four of those planted have got to this stage).

Pines not doing so well - at the seedling stage, their growth is slower than the oak.

This... is a leek! I had a hunch that this might work - rather like the carrot tops we used to plant at Oaklands primary school infants. I made a leek, lentil and sorrel stew the other day, and rather than throw away the end, I replanted it in a jar from a failed oak or pine planting. This seems to be working! I will pop it into the soil soon, and hope it soon grows big enough to eat!

Bonus shot - a past-life familiarity event in Widok - wow, does this look like mid-'50s America! Note the lovely lawn... No longer environmentally acceptable, but it does makes an impression...

This time last year:
Dead birds (paying the price for pesticides)

This time two years ago:
My summer space

This time three years ago:
Another Romanesque church dedicated to St Giles

This time five years ago:

Armed forces day flypast seen from Jeziorki

This time seven years ago:

The ground parade part one: 1939

The flypast

This time ten years ago:
Dworzec Zachodni ('West Wailway Shtation') before its first remont

This time 11 years ago: 
90 years ago today - Bolsheviks stopped at the gates of Warsaw 

This time 12 years ago: 
Kestrel 

This time 14 years ago: 
Armed forces day parade in Warsaw