Category: photography

A Feathered Nest

Who says swans are graceful?

It’s getting harder to mow the top lawn. It’s not so bad when the female swan is sitting on the eggs, but the male is very aggressive, and I decided to leave the bit nearest them

This morning we watched Mrs S get up from her beautifully soft nest, carefully turn and then cover the eggs. She stopped to take a drink from the ‘Miniature Heroes’ water container that the neighbours have thoughtfully  provided, and then advised Mr S that she was going to cool off and it was his turn to sit in the heatIMG_8892.JPG

At first he looked a bit surly. But she wasn’t stopping so he stomped over, resignedIMG_8891.JPG

He hesitated, looking at the nest

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He looked at me. I nearly backed offIMG_8896

He looked at the nest again. She made her break, waddling down to the riverIMG_8895

And then, in a very un-swanlike manoeuvre he sort of ‘flumped’ down over the eggs, arse in the air, and settled himself in. It was less than gracefulIMG_8910

Of course, he soon recovered his composure, and looked sereneIMG_8915

My neighbour tells me that swans, like dogs, cannot sweat. When they are hot they open their mouths and they pant. They have picked a particularly sunny spot to nest in, and I imagine that she really needed to cool off. I was tempted to join her…IMG_8901.JPG

 

 

The Peony Thieves

Treasure comes in many forms

I love the memories attached to plants. The wild garlic and primroses were taken from Mum’s last garden before she moved. The honeysuckle was a cutting from our elderly neighbours who are now long gone. The bird of paradise was grown from a seed my father in law gave me when C was just a baby, and the clematis against the shed was bought in flower on our wedding anniversary. The memories are all part of the beauty

A neighbour moved away and her bungalow was to be flattened for a big house to be built with what the plans referred to as a ‘grand room’ for the newcomers. People around here don’t want to live in bungalows. They want houses with grand rooms

The lady had lived there a long time and had kept a beautiful garden, so when the workmen went home one evening after showing no respect for the plants, my neighbours and I squeezed through the hoarding and onto the site for some guerrilla gardening

There was an herbaceous peony plant and a huge gnarly old tree peony. We took what we could, crept home and set about dividing up the spoils. It was fairly brutal, but we managed to split the tree peony into half a dozen potential plants and share them between us. As you can see, tree peonies, contrary to what the books say, can be successfully relocated.  Mine have been in this spot now for nearly ten years and they apparently thrive on the lack of care they receive. For a few years I was unconvinced that they were ‘performing’ and I gave them an ultimatum: either you knock my socks off or I dig you up

But I guess that did the trick, because now there are many tissue paper flowers, all as big as your head and they look wonderful under the pale spring blossoms IMG_8869.JPGAnd as a bonus, each year as the peonies come into bloom we are all reminded of that charming garden as it used to be, now just laid to lawn. And we re-live our daft little foray

State of Mind ‘Agitated’

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An unremarkable photo, yet it immediately brings it all back…

I have an intense fear of drowning, which goes back to childhood. In August 2012, while the world watched the Olympics on our doorstep in the UK, we took off on a whirlwind round-the-world trip and had at this point reached the Great Barrier Reef. I was desperate not to pass my fear to my daughter, so all three of us were poked on a scuba lesson at the GBR. I was terrified for months in advance

The lesson and dive went well until that familiar panic seized me and I had to be helped up to the surface and brought back to the boat by a lifeguard, devastated that I had failed after so much

Later, as we headed back to the mainland we were lucky enough to see whales breaching, then Baz and C went downstairs to watch the video of our lesson while I stayed alone on deck, unable to think any more about being underwater. I sat alone, wrapped in a towel, and cried tears of total exhaustion yet also gratitude for the opportunities given to me

It was only when I could see land that I started to relax

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Love and Mess

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1995. Boy met girl. Girl was possibly borderline alcoholic but Boy didn’t mind

We made a good team and we knew it. Within a few months we were buying our first flat together. Our lives revolved around work, travel, friends and being in love

Charlotte arrived sixteen years ago and suddenly the well-oiled routine of our lives became chaotic. We hadn’t fully understood the transition from couple to family, and we did not successfully adjust our work-life balance, whatever that actually is. Around this time, vacuuming lost all priority, and we still laugh about the Saturday morning when Baz was cleaning and a 2 year old C came out of her room to ask – ‘Why are you hoovering, Daddy? Is someone coming round?’

And so our lives continued. C adopted the same slovenly habits that we had, and we have bumbled through with only the occasional exhausted freakout from me when I simply cannot cope with the mess, collapse in tears and order a clear up

There are times when our hovel looks very nice: times when we know that people are coming over, and we try to give the impression that we live effortlessly in our little home space. The truth is that I barely even know what is in the fridge most of the time.

Other than the wine in the door, of course

The hoover (it’s actually a skinny sixties-looking-throwback) is where I hang my bra when I bath. All vacuums deserve a bit of a diversion, it’s no fun for them either

People sometimes make ‘good-natured’ jokes about our lifestyle, but I pity them. It’s not that I like mess, but the alternative is to nag constantly. And nagging creates dog’s arse wrinkles, you know. I’ve seen them on the faces of people around me as they berate their spouses. I’ll stick to laughter lines, thank you. And mess

For our Christmas visitors we pulled the place together to look respectable. All of C’s art stuff was cleared away. As always I vowed that it would stay this way, and that we would ‘get on top of it’

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But several weeks later I realise that we have rather let things slip. I know this because there’s a home-mummified frog on the dining table again, next to a vase of balletic dead roses, whose petals have shrivelled to linen. Both items are in fact part of C’s current GCSE resources, but they just add to the general impression of slobbery

So, having already spent 21 years together, Boy is now borderline alcoholic as well. Perhaps a little less Boyish than he was. He and Girl are still very much in love, and to their enormous joy and constant surprise there’s a beautiful, partly feral teenager in the house

And a dusty but really very sexy vacuum cleaner in the bathroom

 

Winter Scavenger

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I am laid up with the lurgy so thought I’d just post a picture for the Daily Post Photo Challenge. I caught this sleek and shiny fella on the pyracantha, picking off the berries at their best. Doesn’t he look fine

And yes, I did have to check the spelling of pyracantha!

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New York’s Ground Zero

Charlotte and I enjoyed a trip to New York in April 2015. Skimming through the pictures, I was reminded of how peaceful and beautiful the memorial is at Ground Zero, and how impressed we were by itGround Zero reflectionThe expanses of glass on the main building create fascinating reflections Ground Zero rainbowThe waterfalls are mesmerising and the light plays in them as you watch. The names of the lost are engraved around the top of the pools with touching tributes left along the wayGround Zero roseThere is a real feeling of peace contrasting with dynamism. I had been sceptical about visiting this memorial to so many people but was utterly moved Ground Zero vertical