Autumn fun

I have lived next to a large area of ancient wetland, woods and heath for several years now and I walk there most days. Winter, spring, early summer and autumn are the times I like most, at least from a visual point of view. It all gets a bit dreary in high summer, not to mention the shoals of mosquitoes the size of B52s with venom to match and the air seems oxygen-depleted. At the other end of the spectrum, I like spring best (my birth season): it's all renewal and sap and buds which create that inimitable haze on the trees without obscuring their structure.

Autumn has its own considerable joys and even with its inescapable melancholy I find that after years of dreading it, I now actually quite look forward to it. These are a few of the photographs I have taken on my walks over the last four years.

The odd songs my mother used to sing

My mother was a great one for singing as she went about her daily routines. She had a pleasant voice. She was also something of a performer so liked to embellish the songs with gestures and with rather unexpected emphases.

As a child I liked the singing - I especially liked the sound of her voice - and the tunes were often memorable in their own right. But the lyrics were often disturbing, an aspect I think my mother was well aware of and which provided fuel for her performances.

Looking again at some of these lyrics and I am hardly surprised they unsettled me. Although I didn't properly understand them back then their sinister tone came across well enough, perhaps given even greater potency by my youthful inability to make complete sense of them. For instance this line from Charlie's Darling:

"... dashing away with the smoothing iron, she stole my heart away."

which my mother accompanied with furious dashing movements, sounded to me as if it was describing an act of considerable violence. Indeed I wondered if the dashing business was a way of physically accessing the human heart prior to its removal. I sometimes think of it still when watching surgical procedures in the TV series "House".

Some of the songs - such as "Long Long Trail" - are frankly melancholy. Others, like "Yes my Darling Daughter", are really very creepy and peculiar: the mother in this sorry tale acts like the madam of a brothel, or the wretched mother described by Humbert Humbert - long before he meets Lolita and her mother - who tried to sell the services of her spurious under-age daughter. Although my grip on the precise nature of these peculiarities was shaky, with lines such

"What if he'll persist, mama darling, doing things he hadn't oughta
Mama, what should be my answer? Yes, my darling daughter."

or

"If his manner becomes a shade improper?
Tell him that your heart belongs to papa."

it didn't take much knowledge or imagination to know that something odd was up. As for this, from "Early One Morning"
" ... Oh don't deceive me: Oh never leave me
How could you use a poor maiden so?"

I didn't (and still don't) like the sound of that "use" in the least, especially so closely linked with deception.

The more I look at them, the more it seems to me that they ARE pretty odd and it wasn't just a childish misconception. Anyway, here's a handful of lyrics: spend a few minutes and see what you think.
YES MY DARLING DAUGHTER

I've gotta be good or mama will scold me
Yes, yes, yes
I asked her and this is what she told me
Yes, yes, yes

Mother, may I go out dancing? Yes, my darling daughter!
Mother, may I try romancing? Yes, my darling daughter!

What if there's a moon, mama darling, and it's shining on the water,
Mother, must I keep on dancing? Yes, my darling daughter!

If he wants to kiss, mama darling,
When he feels it's time we ought to,
Mother must I let him kiss me? Yes, my darling daughter!
What if he'll propose, mama darling,
When the night is growing shorter?
Mother, what should be my answer? Yes, my darling daughter!

Oh mama, oh mama, oh mama, oh mama

What if he should insist on one embrace, mama,
How can I keep him in his place
If his manner becomes a shade improper?
Tell him that your heart belongs to papa

Mother, will it be exciting? Yes, my darling daughter
Mother, do I look inviting? Yes, my darling daughter
If he holds me tight, mama darling, and my knees just turn to water
Mama must I keep on dancing? Yes, my darling daughter
What if he'll persist, mama darling, doing things he hadn't oughta
Mama, what should be my answer? Yes, my darling daughter

EARLY ONE MORNING

Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,

I heard a maid sing in the valley below:

"Oh don't deceive me: Oh, never leave me.

How could you use a poor maiden so?

Oh, gay is the garland, and fresh are the roses,

I've cull'd from the garden to bind on thy brow.

Oh, don't deceive me: Oh, never leave me.

How could you use a poor maiden so?

Remember the vows that you made to your Mary,

Remember the bower where you vowed to be true.

Oh, don't deceive me: Oh, never leave me.

How could you use a poor maiden so?"

Thus sang the poor maiden, her sorrows bewailing,

Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below;

"Oh, don't deceive me: Oh, never leave me.

How could you use a poor maiden so?" 

CHARLIE'S DARLING

'Twas on a Monday morning

When I beheld my darling

She looked so neat and charming

In every high degree

She looked so neat and nimble, O

A-washing of her linen, O

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

She stole my heart away.

'Twas on a Tuesday morning

When I beheld my darling

She looked so neat and charming

In every high degree

She looked so neat and nimble, O

A-hanging out her linen, O

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

She stole my heart away.

'Twas on a Wednesday morning

When I beheld my darling

She looked so neat and charming

In every high degree

She looked so neat and nimble, O

A-starching of her linen, O

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

She stole my heart away.

'Twas on a Thursday morning

When I beheld my darling

She looked so neat and charming

In every high degree

She looked so neat and nimble, O

A-ironing of her linen, O

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

She stole my heart away.

'Twas on a Friday morning

When I beheld my darling

She looked so neat and charming

In every high degree

She looked so neat and nimble, O

A-folding of her linen, O

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

She stole my heart away.

'Twas on a Saturday morning

When I beheld my darling

She looked so neat and charming

In every high degree

She looked so neat and nimble, O

A-airing of her linen, O

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

She stole my heart away.

'Twas on a Sunday morning

When I beheld my darling

She looked so neat and charming

In every high degree

She looked so neat and nimble, O

A-wearing of her linen, O

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

Dashing away with the smoothing iron

She stole my heart away. 

THE HONEYSUCKLE AND THE BEE

You are my honey, honeysuckle,

I am the bee,

I’d like to sip the honey sweet

From those red lips, you see

I love you dearly, dearly,

And I want you to love me,

You are my honey, honeysuckle,

I am the bee. 

LONG LONG TRAIL

Nights are getting very lonely, days are very long,

And I am growing weary only, listening for your song.

And old remembrances are thronging through my memory,

Thronging till it seems the world is full of dreams, just to bring you back to me.

There's a long, long trail a-winding into the land of my dreams,

Where the nightingales are singing and the white moon gleams,

There's a long, long night of waiting until my dreams all come true,

And that's the day when I'll be going down that long, long trail with you.

Sometimes I think I hear you calling, calling sweet and low,

And I seem to hear your footsteps falling everywhere I go,

But though the road between us stretches many's the weary mile,

Somehow I forget that you're not with me yet, when I think I see you smile.

There's a long, long trail a-winding into the land of my dreams,

Where the nightingales are singing and the white moon gleams,

There's a long, long night of waiting until my dreams all come true,

And that's the day when I'll be going down that long, long trail with you.