Come away with the raggle taggle gypsy-o
It’s ‘Traces of the past’, for Paula’s Black and White Sunday. This week she says that we don’t have to have buildings or architecture inn our photos, the past can have many forms. So I found some ghosts, and yes I’m more than a little crazy!
Pop over to Paula’s to see her wonderful photo of Bamburgh Castle.
In a workplace kitchen.
There’s something about transitions and thresholds that I find fascinating, yet I can’t pinpoint it. Walking the dogs today, I saw this very handsome, but still very sleepy tree.
Then further across the fields I spy this blossom.
Last year’s oak leaves hanging on.
This little wood wasn’t here the last time I came to Eastern fields.
Hooray for hawthorn, creamy flowers in May, Hawthorn Jelly later in summer.
The tops of these trees are waking up, I must re-learn the tree names that I knew in infant school.
Oh the limitations of a phone camera!
A serpent awakening?
Let’s end with damsons – or sloes?
We’re all observing the late arrival of spring in the UK, and this is my second post for ‘Awakening’, this weeks photo challenge.
Last Saturday afternoon, I was sitting quietly at home when I heard a distinctive two syllable bird song. I slowly stood up and staying well back from the window I watched as a pair of little birds flew back and forth to the feeder on the olive tree. I knew they’d be off if I made any sudden movements, but when they were out of sight I went to get my camera. They must have seen me spying on them because they stayed further away on John Downie’s budding branches, still coming and going.
I watched for half an hour desperately trying to get a decent photo, several feet inside of the window with unsettled light.
They are of course, Great Tits.
Now, Paula’s Thursday challenge this week is zoom in zoom out. So here’s a closer view of these cute, but also quite stroppy little birds.
Paula zoomed in on a beautiful waterfall in Croatia, ‘stopping’the flow to create a white curtain of water.
How do you picture awakening?
Awakening curves
stretching wide with the dawning
wings spread to heaven
Awakening, this weeks photo challenge.
Still missing Becky’s squares and not capable of stringing much more than a sentence together this evening, I thought I’d reblog one of my poems. Next to my own River Exe, the Teign is one of my favourite rivers anywhere. This poem is my tribute to it.
Today is the day, but as always I plan to have a birthday month, so I spent yesterday walking beside the river Bovey. This is the result.
Rushing Slowly
I contemplate the transience of the River Bovey.
Every molecule of water that flows past my feet
has a destiny, whether it is to evaporate,
to splash onto the shingle that scratches at my soles,
sink into the peaty soil
or connect with the vastness of the sea.
Every leaf, green, frosted or baked dry by the sun
will crumble, flake along the route
or wash up intact on a beach,
ten or ten thousand miles away.
Every little stick tumbles and rolls
between east and west river bank,
to be claimed by a golden retriever
or gathered by a green consumer
to give home a few minutes of warmth.
From its source between Chagford and Shapley commons,
the Bovey glides, swirls…
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Lucid Gypsy 