Yesterday, after literally three weeks of rain and storms, we had a hard frost.
The plants were etched in ice, medieval carvings soon to disappear with yet more lashing rain and sleet. The last time I photographed the Aaron’s Rod was at the Creek, all those years ago. Those intensely lonely hours spent by the water thinking about nothing much and just watching the passing water with an occasional train rattling past. I would highly recommend not doing much and just watching water slip past especially in the middle of dirty old, lovely old London. In the quiet by the present day river it was easy to forget that Deptford was once a frenetic Naval dockyard and tannery. There are numerous ghosts lurking – Marlowe, buried at St Nicholas’ just down Creek Road, Samuel Pepys bustling about, John Evelyn and his disastrous house-guest Peter the Great (who trashed Evelyn’s world famous garden, a Saye’s Court, beyond redemption). An echo of Handel’s water music carries across the water. Apparently sound waves never die and just get fainter and fainter and so undetectable by the human ear. What a cacaphony if we could hear the history of Deptford.