You have found greenheart.
This is my blog.
WordPress – I’m going to see if five years of going back to school, and countless English lessons, might make me a more interesting writer.
This is day one. It’s also a Wolf Moon, a Hunger Moon, a Cold Moon an Old Moon. I’ve just had a good stare at it outside. The huge moon is more grey inside than I’ve ever noted before – through binoculars.
So, the first day of the year, the first full moon in January of 2018, and it is a fresh start. A time to recharge, reflect and reassess where you are in life.
I have no obvious direction for greenheart as such, but I believe it will evolve if I make the time for it.
I love the sea, rocks, the mountains, the coast, and unspoilt natural beauty. And of course – being outdoors. So that’s where I’ll most probably start.
My greenheart blog means, me, caring about all things ‘green’, and the ‘heart’ part of the word – well, it speaks for itself.
One other thing.
Do you know what greenheart is?
Greenheart timber, also known as Demerara Greenheart, is a very strong timber. It is a pale, olive-green wood used in marine environments; for boats, docks, harbours, bridges and groynes. It is able to withstand salt water and watery situations. It is enormously durable.
My dad first told me about greenheart. This is his story. And, I absolutely loved its name right from the first time I heard it.
In 1960, Kessingland beach in Suffolk, was in dire need of sea defences. My uncle was involved in the scheme to install the new groynes. He manned the crane which thumped them hard into the sand. These groynes were necessary to hold back the sand and the stones for the future generations, and to hinder coastal erosion around Kessingland Beach.
Each time a new groyne was thumped into the ground, the steel top part which was used to smash down on to the top of the groyne, totally splintered and mashed the top two foot of each timber. My uncle collected up these massively heavy, broken lumps of greenheart into a pile, which nobody else wanted.
My ten year old dad trundled an old Blue-Cross pram down to the beach. Only able to fit six end pieces in each time, he almost completely buckled both the wheels and his back under the weight. When home, each end piece was further split into four, and each of these would burn all night on their home fire. I’m not sure how many journeys my dad made – but I should imagine quite a few!
I love this story. I think it’s a good one.
I also, almost, used to live pretty much on Kessingland Beach.
Here’s to greenheart.