Walking along the left bank of the Frome, towards Poole Harbour
The River Frome runs from Wareham to a broad inlet of Poole Harbour - the river's course downstream is one of sweeping meanders, enclosing wetlands with brimming ditches, shallow lakes and flocks of birds - man high reeds line the banks of the river - you can see the square stone tower of Lady St Mary overlooking the river and wetlands - a weathervane, shaped like a fish, turns with the wind on the top of the tower -
Wareham was one of the burhs established by Alfred the Great - dragon headed ships would sail up the rivers in this part of Dorset - warriors with yellow beards would scan the river meadows for plunder - I can imagine the sharp edges of their axes, their word hoards gathered in wooden halls - a viking fleet came to grief in Swanage Bay - longboats were driven onto the rocks by a fortuitous storm - a monument on Swanage seafront commemorates the event -
As I walked along the river, I looked at the yachts moored along its banks - I admired their elegant shapes - one or two placid gaffers steered their inflatables between the lines of yachts - the surface of the river reflected hulls and masts - swans and cygnets glided downstream -
At one point, the path wove between a grove of silver birches - I half expected to see a faun, shivering and wan amongst the flying leaves - the sky above was grey and featureless -
I walked past Ridge Wharf, where a boy drove a tractor, towing a dripping yacht up a slipway - I could see the bare masts of the yachts, outlined against the sky - I turned inland, where the path forked - to my left the path would led me back to Wareham, to my right, towards Swineham Point, and the watery empire of the harbour -
I thought of Anne's dad, and of his yacht - and of Elaine with her Dulcie, sailing over to France - I remembered being on board Jane and Ken's yacht - what stories, I wondered, could be told by the owners of the yachts I saw here - I thought of the call of the sea -
I then remembered the time - I looked at my watch, and took the path to the left - I would return, I thought - even amongst everyday streets, if you listened hard enough, you might hear the sound of gulls -
The River Frome runs from Wareham to a broad inlet of Poole Harbour - the river's course downstream is one of sweeping meanders, enclosing wetlands with brimming ditches, shallow lakes and flocks of birds - man high reeds line the banks of the river - you can see the square stone tower of Lady St Mary overlooking the river and wetlands - a weathervane, shaped like a fish, turns with the wind on the top of the tower -
Wareham was one of the burhs established by Alfred the Great - dragon headed ships would sail up the rivers in this part of Dorset - warriors with yellow beards would scan the river meadows for plunder - I can imagine the sharp edges of their axes, their word hoards gathered in wooden halls - a viking fleet came to grief in Swanage Bay - longboats were driven onto the rocks by a fortuitous storm - a monument on Swanage seafront commemorates the event -
As I walked along the river, I looked at the yachts moored along its banks - I admired their elegant shapes - one or two placid gaffers steered their inflatables between the lines of yachts - the surface of the river reflected hulls and masts - swans and cygnets glided downstream -
At one point, the path wove between a grove of silver birches - I half expected to see a faun, shivering and wan amongst the flying leaves - the sky above was grey and featureless -
I walked past Ridge Wharf, where a boy drove a tractor, towing a dripping yacht up a slipway - I could see the bare masts of the yachts, outlined against the sky - I turned inland, where the path forked - to my left the path would led me back to Wareham, to my right, towards Swineham Point, and the watery empire of the harbour -
I thought of Anne's dad, and of his yacht - and of Elaine with her Dulcie, sailing over to France - I remembered being on board Jane and Ken's yacht - what stories, I wondered, could be told by the owners of the yachts I saw here - I thought of the call of the sea -
I then remembered the time - I looked at my watch, and took the path to the left - I would return, I thought - even amongst everyday streets, if you listened hard enough, you might hear the sound of gulls -
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