Where the tall Trees Whisper

A sort of 'prose-poem'

 

Where Tall Trees Whisper

This title was the description given to a ramble described in the Liverpool Echo circa 1955. The phrase haunts me; I gladly acknowledge its source and thank the Echo for the many rambles it offered to the local populace so many years ago with its ‘Rambles Round Merseyside’ feature.

I don’t know how to describe this piece; it isn’t poetry yet its format is not that of true prose, and I hope it is seen as poetic. It is very personal to our own experience yet something we wish to share.

Wirral is not a tourist spot, yet it is beautiful. This just scratches its surface, yet it is so small that too many visitors would spoil its magic. Whatever this piece can be described as, I hope you will enjoy it.

Many of the names mentioned have their own web-sites which bear examination should you be interested. I have also appended some of my own ‘Wirral references’ as an appendix.

 

Tall trees whisper; I drive a very silent car through lanes of Wirral

It is hard to equate the Mersey bank,

 its industry, urbanity and commercialism

With the Dee’s tree and field lined shores,

 marshland, views and sunsets,

Distant views of Wales,

 wind farms and walkers’ way,

Once even, a coalmine at Neston and,

 once, a  railway, Beeching-chopped.

However, even on its industrial side it holds the wonders

of a great capitalist’s philanthropy

in Port Sunlight and the Lady Lever Art Gallery and Museum

A flattened tip runs from West Kirby and Hilbre

 to the fairground fantasy of New Brighton.

So soon yet have circumnavigated the Wirral Peninsula,

a heaven compressed world in a twenty mile nutshell;

 small enough to walk, large enough to drive.

Old villages, thatched pubs.

My own tree and wall clad Oxton,

bejewelled with the precious stones it calls “Small gardens”; 

An oasis village within Birkenhead – an unpleasant town.

Ten minutes to the heart of Storeton Woods,

horse fields and livery

drive up a pine clad mount

penetrate ‘better-class, executive’ suburbia

to reach a giant hospital

 where parking is a dirty word, even though within

the vast  beauty of Arrowe Park.

A motorway bisects yet does not spoil the Wirral

 making emergence simple and opening up Cheshire.

But that is for another day –

today belongs to my peninsula.

Hidden, a nuclear physics laboratory and works

Disguised as a lovely old village – Capenhurst

Leading on to Willaston where once upon a time,

A hunt turned out on New Year’s Day.

 Beyond, perhaps the most lovely Wirral village –

Burton, thatch, cottages, houses, church and gardens

 even a college – once the home of a Gladstone,

well-kept, unspoiled by ugly outbuildings,

 with wondrous views of  Dee and beyond.

Wirral is a place of ‘beyonds’.

Climb Thurstaston’s sandstone crown;

gaze on Wales’ Northern Deeside edge;

trace its line to the North West corner, then

sweep to the west across an invisible Ireland

northward to Blackpool Tower,

plains and hills of Lancashire and,

making full circle, see the fertile and productive

Fields and woods of Cheshire.

Marred? Yes – industry has made its mark in places

But man has placed two beautiful bridges,

One on each river, and all Man’s work is not ugly,

There can be beauty in a cooling tower, can’t there?

West Kirby lies below, over Caldy Rugby Club’s pitches.

A small seaside town, as yet unspoiled;

no sea-front burger bar, arcade or large hotel

Undeveloped, save for marine lake, sailing club and residential promenade;

someone wants to build a hotel – that’ll be the end

He doesn’t live in West Kirby, that’s for sure.

At the other end of quite a short trunk road is Chester

Ancient, timbered, Roman even, though stylish,

Fashionable and chic with cathedral, Roman walls,

Victoria R. memorial clock – even a racecourse!

Wirral is full of pubs that produce good food –

Two for one, two for £7, two for a tenner,

Steak nights, curry nights, salad bars;

You won’t go hungry round here – I don’t!

Heswall, quite  posh, has bars, bistros,

international cuisine and pubs

and yes, Tesco.

At  Gayton roundabout, just down the road,

The Devon Doorway stands, thatched, smart, and

Not really rural, opposite the Glegg Arms.

There are old mills, old barns, even a remaining railway

Despite Beeching!

At Parkgate, still with stone, marine quayside

skirts the silted Dee. 

From here, Handel took Messiah

To Dublin for its ‘Premiere’

The Boathouse at one end of the ‘Prom’

Serves smart food – a little ‘pricey’ while at the other

The Old Quay serves a fine carvery for £3.50 – yes £3.50.

Between, a ‘Smuggler’s Pub and a Public School

And the best Ice Cream Shop for miles or, buy some local shrimps

Round the back and along the estuary bank, mile after mile –

Of marsh grass and bird-life, wild – just a few walkers are here;

then yet another pub ‘The Harp’ – tiny, cottage like, ancient

What tales could it tell? – more smuggling I’ll bet! Long long ago.

Further along the river bank – even now, bits of coal and slate.-

And a jetty – mighty stone blocked – protrudes to where colliers

Neston Men and their boats once floated,

Yes – there was a local coalmine;

we shall walk up to the little market town and cross.

Hustle, bustle and decent, small shops

still resistant to supermarket greed.

Now, ‘twixt Neston and Burton, Ness,

Liverpool University Gardens, a subject in themselves.

Fifty and more years ago we courted here. Happy days.

Now back in our car on this warm and pleasant day,

we drive in thankfully conditioned air to seek some

cask-conditioned ale at one or other hostelry,

emerging, personally re-conditioned, saying once again,

“Isn’t the Wirral a lovely place to live?”

Evening draws on, our now cool, silent car glides silently

homeward for a mere twenty minutes

and we are home, the kettle is on

We sit in our own ‘Small Garden of Oxton’ amid summer scents

Sipping Assam Tea in China teacups.

Now where have I heard that before?

 

 

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/JohnL/353708/

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/JohnL/339579/

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/JohnL/328659/

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/JohnL/316791/

http://www.writerscafe.org/uploads/stories/53473600-1215282157.jpg   (It’s all in the avatar)

 

Author's Note

Draft Form. All comments - pro and con - welcome

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Wow, John, you've just taken me on a whistle stop tour of the Wirral and now, now, NOW I want to see it for myself! This is an incredibly informative and enticing post! You've mentioned just about anything and every thing a would-be explorer would want; this ought to be handed in to your local tourist board as part of its publicity!

I'm not entirely sure but maybe form is a little erratic .. neither prose nor poetry and so, doesn't flow quite as smoothly as some of your previous and wonderful travel pieces. But, I'm going to return to re-read this and see if maybe I'm wrong.. could so easily be and, anyway, .I want to be enticed again!

There are a few lines that really caught my eye and mind: 'Beyond, perhaps the most lovely Wirral village �Burton, thatch, cottages, houses, church and gardens even a college � once the home of a Gladstone, well-kept, unspoiled by ugly outbuildings, with wondrous views of Dee and beyond.Wirral is a place of 'beyonds' ... those last words are grand! Then again, 'Now back in our car on this warm and pleasant day, we drive in thankfully conditioned air to seek somecask-conditioned ale at one or other hostelry, emerging, personally re-conditioned, saying once again,"Isn't the Wirral a lovely place to live?" ' That last phrase really sings out!

Thank you for sharing a very interesting piece of writing.

[Donald Meikle]

After 11 months I took the trip again. Memory Lane wets eyes anew as I once more see it all. Though Birken'ead was not that bad, and Chester too was not half bad.

[Cherrie Palmer]

I love the feel to this and also love the sound of whispering trees.
Cherrie

[mick weller]

two for a tenner still you say...
fire the engine,
we are on our way

I've heard it's worth a visit...
now I know it is!

[R J Askew]

A moving evocation of place and moment. I can sense the place from your description and its moods, twix Dee and Mersey. I like the silence of the car throughout which links in with the title somehow. I sense the poem is several things in one. Firstly it is a collection of patient observations, some of which are topographical, others historic and others personal. I esp appreciate the historic feel which comes through strongly and refers to former glories perhaps of the late 19th century when Britain was top dog. Secondly is the importance of an individual relationship with a place. This comes through strongly 'Fifty or more years ago...' It is like the place is a lichen on our lives which somehow enhances them with its quiet presence and forms a vital part of them without us even realising. Perhaps this leads to contentment and comfort. I am sure it is better to have this than not, than to be part of some constantly shifting mass of humanity without such emotional anchors. Millions of people in mega cities just do not have such emotional horizons. Maybe this is captured in 'A place of beyonds...' the beyonds being others' associations with the place, the Romans even. The place even seems to have a personality. 'Today belongs to my Wirral'. There is a Betjamen (sp) feel about 'There can be beauty in a cooling tower'. And I cld see the bits of coal and slate, shards of others' lives. The third aspect, is in the end when you arrive home and we realise that you have taken us on a tour of your day as much as the Wirral and that the gentleness of the topography seeps into the life you lead amid it. Charming, genteel and very English. No fussing, no big bangs, just calm observation of how life is and what it may offer if we are open to it.

[Emily B]

a lovely prose/poem ramble. I should get out more. :)

[An owl on the moon]

This is stunningly moving, taking me from my office out into the wonderful world you have seen and felt. How it makes me long to travel here, to see these sights that come alive in your words. I hope it is not too late, as time is ticking away! Thank you so much for these intimate descriptions that give breath even to stone...

[Donald Meikle]

Thanks John I needed that familiarity pictured through my tired from mowing brain. I think I'll close my eyes and ride a donkey now