Spring Morning Over The River Thames: Reflections from South London
Reflection of tall, modern buildings in the River Wandle, London.
The first light of day – a certain London grey atmospheric – slips across the Thames as I stand at the front window of my small flat gazing out at this ageless river that flows through the nation’s capital. I’m grateful for this marvellous view. It has all the hallmarks though of one of those spring days which serve as the supreme tease for the unreliable delights of a British summer. I pause. I make a mental note to banish this cynicism and allow the entire moment as I perceive it mingle with my childlike sense of wonder. A sliver of joy takes hold and I let it flow through me as I peer out at the vista of not only this majestic waterway but also the city spread out far and wide to the horizon. From my vantage point, this fluid highway becomes an exciting backdrop for so many stories.
I open the window and the bracing freshness of the chilled dawn air enters my lungs. At this early hour of the day as the sun is just making its presence visible, it is peaceful thank goodness.
daybreak
made glorious
london’s thames
cloudless
like childhood dreams
that spanned the world
early moments
wondrous
horizoned foreverness
gently ceding
darkness
to light
orb divine
ascends dazzling
a heavenly arc
Like a character in its own right, the Thames is tidal four times daily for most of its course. At this hour it has receded and large swathes of riverbed are now exposed. As for the narrowed river, I notice something peculiar which I’ve become accustomed to: the flow of water appears to go in two directions at once. This opposing liquid movement side by side is smooth with barely a ripple on the surface. I also delight in seeing so much birdlife present in large numbers huddled in groups on these temporary dry areas of land dotted around: sea gulls, herons, cormorants, moorhens, egrets, ducks, geese and coots and others I don’t recognise have become my regular early morning companions. Before moving here, I’d never paid much attention to birds but now they’re part of my morning ritual as my wife and I keep an eager eye out for this local avian community.
Suddenly, there’s an almighty commotion from the side of the river quite near me. Several Egyptian geese stir and I can hear their flapping wings, the sound of disturbed water and the inevitable chorus of honking as they prepare to take off. For a few seconds it looks like they are treading on this watery surface as they gather momentum, wings flapping like crazy and then, suddenly, up they soar the five of them and it is beautiful to see. Magical. They rise together and fly up to a height not far from my window as they flash past well within my line of sight. They go a little higher and circle around and with each beat of their wings I feel my spirits lift.
My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
(The Windhover by Gerald Manley Hopkins) (1)
As Hopkins wrote in The Windhover, a poem celebrating the glory of flight and spiritual awakening, I keep my eyes glued to this gaggle of geese in sinuous formation and it’s obvious they are on the lookout for another part of the river to land. In next to no time, their leader selects the right spot and the airborne quintet come to ground with grace on an exposed peninsula near Putney Bridge. No matter where they fly to, these birds are always at home on the Thames.
examined soul
stillness
in harmony with
a yellow-goldening universe
miracle purity
far and wide
rising above
the living
and the dead
river birds
linger in my silence
binding together
past present future
life’s transient trinity lived
under skies
so infinite
i wish to embrace
eternity
I look carefully where the geese have settled and can see there are two people walking on the same bit of foreshore. They appear occupied and on closer inspection, it’s clear they have metal detector kits on the go – a common sight in the locality. These twenty-first century practitioners of the age-old profession of mudlarking (2) are in search of buried treasure. I kid you not as in December 2019, an Anglo-Saxon golden pendant dating from the 7th century was found by Putney Bridge. Not just valuable artefacts from the past are lying buried awaiting discovery but also deadly relics can be dug up. Just two months later in February 2020 shortly before the Covid Lockdown overtook us all, an unexploded World War Two bomb was uncovered from the riverbed also close to Putney Bridge. The local area at the time was evacuated and the bomb disarmed before its removal and eventual safe destruction elsewhere.
I am also grateful as my view encompasses so many trees and most of them are coming into leaf now with a few cherry blossoms in full flower also to be seen. My ear catches the uplifting melody of spring birdsong from blackbirds, thrushes, robins and great tits. I listen out for another harbinger of spring: the cuckoo but its tell-tale call sign is not audible this morning. Nevertheless, we are blessed in this part of the metropolis with a trio of waterways converging nearby: the Thames, Wandle and Bell Lane Creek – all three serving as a welcome natural habitat adjacent to a densely built-up urban environment.
city revealing
hidden states of grace
indefinable
shadows of trees
hallowed mysteries silvery
in calmed waters
whisper
humility of being
from the cosmos
My attention then shifts to a group of rowers in a slim boat pointed at either end energetically going through their paces. They are being shepherded by their coach in a separate craft whose bellowed instructions in clipped tones through a megaphone can be heard: their oars a well-rehearsed orchestra of feisty precision as they spear the water. This is a reminder the annual Cambridge-Oxford University boat race is around the corner and is a major event in this neck of the woods attracting large crowds along the route.
The lean and eager rowers disappear from view under Putney Bridge as a Thames clipper passenger boat steams downriver in the opposite direction and so connecting Putney with destinations at Westminster, Greenwich and Canary Wharf further east.
The sun is rising in a cloudless sky and, come to think of it, it hasn’t rained in weeks. Joy. I’m truly grateful for this small mercy of being able to experience daybreak such as this over my little bit of London.
dawn
so perfect
absolving
all the years
back to innocence
prompting
a new way
a new truth
a new life.
(1) Gerald Manley Hopkins (1844–1889)
A Victorian poet and Jesuit priest whose work is celebrated for its innovative use of rhythm, alliteration and sprung metre.
(2) Mudlarking
A term referring to the activity of searching the exposed banks of the River Thames – usually at low tide – for historical artefacts, lost items or other buried valuables. Originally a 19th-century practice carried out by impoverished Londoners scavenging for coal, metal or cloth to sell, it has evolved into a modern-day hobby for amateur historians and treasure hunters. Contemporary mudlarkers often use metal detectors and must follow strict regulations to unearth objects ranging from medieval coins to Roman pottery and even wartime relics.
