We don't have far to go: Nederland is Greenland. The most pics were taken in Bronkhorst, the smallest town of Netherlands in Gelderland, now almost a kind of a museum village, the windmill pic in Zeddam, the drizzle photo was taken in Munstershire, not in Droitwich.
This collage reminds me a bit of the holiday-photo-collages I enjoyed pasting in my photo-albums as teenager, added by a pressed flower, four-leafed clover or a ticket. Many of the yellowed photos are still lovely reminders of past times. Quite more charm have the b&w- photos taken by my grandmother.
Some time ago I listenend to Derek Walcott's English poems and his German translator Werner von Koppenfels and I was very impressed with his lyrics. The rain-wet, "tempered zones' of middle-northern Europe are poetry's country for the poet, born on a faraway Caribbean island, and when the following poem (2010) was recited, I thought of Netherlands or Munstershire or England:
"Perhaps it exists on only one horizon-
one with windmills and belfries with questioning cranes,
meadows with chattering aspens, a temperate zone,
equestrian statues and water-braiding fountains,
and, when town breaks off and hedges and trees commence,
the exuberant country we see from the train
with hayricks and duck ponds and ravens on a fence
for an alderman's funeral. Deferential rain
falls ceremonially on cafés and cobbles,
umbrellas blossom and a decent haze
glazes the streets where the cathedral wobbles
in its reflection, a drizzle is a quiet praise,
and the unshaven priest in his dusty soutane,
protector of Latin and the widowed cypress,
sees how flocks of starlings record the annals
that preserve history in its immortal greyness
and barges pass in stanzas along canals.
This is poetry's weather, this is its true home,
not where palms applaud themselves and sails dance
in mindless delight and gulls race the foam."
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