The colours of autumn were so pretty in the sunshine on the way to the farm this morning that I had to stop and take some photos – luckily it’s not a busy road and I didn’t hold anyone up.
If you like goats, ponies and llamas… they are here too.
Category Archives: Photography
As Easy as Falling off a Cliff
It’s really quite easy to fall off a cliff inadvertently – I’ve nearly done it twice! And both times the incident occurred when I was taking photographs. The first time was the more frightening because I did actually slip over the edge; I was resting precariously (on my back) over the cliff (rocks beneath) – a little like the coach in the film “The Italian Job” – but luckily the greater part of my body was still on the clifftop. Nevertheless, I was afraid to move and I lay there with my arms stretched above me as I waited for Chris to jump the fence and rescue me; either he was really strong or I didn’t weigh quite so much then (this was several years ago in Brittany).
The second time happened today. The sun was shining and beckoned me to go out walking in spite of my cold (I was cooped up all day yesterday). We had parked at a beautiful spot called Coombe Cellars, a mile or two from the mouth of the River Teign, and we followed the Templar Way footpath that runs along the fields above the river bank; the hedges were high and we could hardly see the river through the foliage so, when we found a style that came onto a woodland path that led down to the river, we crossed it. The autumn leaves glowed red and yellow in the shafts of sunshine that filtered through the trees and, whilst Chris walked ahead, I lagged behind taking photos. At a particularly pretty point I veered toward the edge of the track and, as I held the camera up to take a shot, my right leg reached out… and stayed in the air for longer than expected. I extended my foot and found dry leaves over the curve of the cliff beneath them; and in a deft movement I swung my leg back onto terra firma.
“You could have died if you’d fallen,” Chris tutted, “it’s high here”.
I laughed nervously as I looked down through the trees to the water. I had been lucky. Shortly, we had to traverse a fallen tree trunk to get back to the main track:
“Will you be alright going over this?” Chris asked warily.
But it was okay – the fallen tree was fairly big and I decided not to take photos whilst going over it. You could say it was “as easy as falling off a log”.
“I always like to take a trunk road,” Chris quipped (when I was safely back on solid ground again).
Sensational Sunrise Over Lyme Bay
While I was still in bed this morning (sleeping fitfully owing to a sore throat) Chris was up and about photographing the stunning sunrise over the bay. After breakfast I, too, was drawn out onto the balcony; after a week of mostly bleak weather my eyes were unaccustomed to the bright sunlight and the three daylight shots were taken with my eyes closed – the camera screen looked black in the sunshine anyway. I shall be wearing my sunglasses when we go out for a walk in the countryside shortly but I’ll be wrapping up warm; well, this is England and I do have a cold!
A Shawshank Redemption Moment
No, it wasn’t a moment like the scene when Brooks Hatlen (played by James Whitmore) hanged himself, nor was it like the gang rape scene (Heaven forbid!); it wasn’t anything like the moment that “Red” (Morgan Freeman) finds the box awaiting him under a stone by a wall near a tree in a field, and it wasn’t even like the scene when Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) asks Warden Norton (Bob Gunton) if he was deliberately “being obtuse”. There are so many memorable moments in the film “The Shawshank Redemption” but the one to which I’m referring is one of the most unexpected and uplifting scenes – when Andy plays the Sull Aria (purportedly sung by Maria Callas) from Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro” over the loud speakers and the inmates (most of whom, ironically, are outside) are transfixed by the heavenly singing.
Not feeling particularly well (after a doctor’s appointment and a mammogram earlier in the day – not connected) I was just about to go to bed when I heard the whistle on my phone which tells me a Whatsapp message has come in. In fact, it was an audio message from our friend Roland in Brisbane. But what a message! Where on earth was he? Beautiful classical music was being played loudly. He was at work – Roly is a painting contractor – on a building site and one of the carpenters is a classical music buff (the tradesmen in Brisbane are a rather cultured lot!).
Dear old Roland, he thought the music would cheer me up; and he was right – I went to bed with a big smile on my face. I’m not at all a classical music buff and even Chris, who is, could not put a definite name to the composition or the composer but he said he thought it was Italian, perhaps Ottorino Respighi. Perhaps you will know the piece: I managed to record the audio message on YouTube and I added a few photographs of the work site and its beautiful surrounds so that you’ll be able to imagine yourself listening to the music on site. Sadly, I’m not an expert at transposing sound recording clips from Whatsapp to YouTube… But you’ll get the picture.
Speaking of pictures, the butcher at our local Sainsbury’s supermarket (sorry I’m always going on about supermarkets) is something of an artist and wit, and he’s rather desperate to sell expensive lamb. Here are some of the offerings he chalks up on his blackboard…
-
- The Butcher has a great sense of humour!
Just click on the print in blue to listen to Roland’s recording.
A Shawshank Redemption Moment
And now for the real thing: according to YouTube (they recognised that the music has copyright restrictions) and they kindly informed me of the name of the piece in question. Simply click on the blue print below and listen to what the tradesmen enjoyed.
Gaîté Parisienne: Allegro moderato (Mesdames de la Halle …
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEsrKlFxQdk
13 Feb 2015 – Uploaded by #ManuelRosenthal
Gaîté Parisienne: Allegro moderato (Mesdames de la Halle) ….Valse moderato – Vivo – Valse – Allegro molto – Valse moderato (excerpts) …
Supergran Tames Savage Guard Dog at Lidls
-
- Vicious dog on guard outside Lidls supermarket
-
- Or I might bite!
-
- What are you looking at me for?
-
- Could that be Supergran?
-
- Better play ball or she’ll crush my head!
It happened last Saturday…
A Case of the Blues
“Oops!” I said aloud, although there was no-one around to hear me (Chris was inside, up in his workroom, and he is a tad deaf anyway). Now if I’d had a bucket of water handy I would not have had to think twice – I would have put my foot in it straight away – but I didn’t… All I had was an old paint rag. I didn’t even have my mobile phone on me so I couldn’t take a shot of it (and it would have been a beauty of a photo).
To be honest with you, it was the second time today that I’d had a mishap with the blue paint, and rather thin and runny paint that outdoor wood paint is… In the morning it was just the paintbrush that fell, fully laden with runny blue paint, from the top of the landing by the bridge, down the magnolia-white garden wall, over the Diana statue and into the fuchsias; of course, on it’s way down the paint splattered everywhere. That time I acted swiftly by running down to the bottom immediately and grabbing the hose; with the water pressure on high I aimed the hose at the top of the wall and brought it down over all that had been zapped with blue, which was pretty much everything. And whilst I was about it I hosed the stones, the white garden table and chairs and the conservatory glass door, all of which had been dumb recipients of the drips of blue paint that had seeped through the gaps in the wooden planks of the bridge.
Ah, no lasting harm done except for a few spots of blue paint that had dripped through those same planks onto my back while I was hosing. My favourite white top went into bleach and my orange shorts into detergent; my apron was okay because the paint caught me only on my back (should have worn my apron around the wrong way!).
Later on, when I went up to admire our newly painted blue bridge, I noticed that some splashes of water from the hose had caused the paint to dry oddly. “That won’t take me long,” I thought to myself. I put on my still clean apron again and, armed with a rag and a small bucket half-filled with the left-over paint from earlier, went back up to the bridge a brush; the bucket used to contain yogurt and was just the right size for small paint jobs. Unfortunately, the yogurt bucket is made of quite thin plastic with precious little substance and the lid was on tightly, and when I managed eventually to pull the lid off… well, you can imagine…
What would you have done with half a yogurt bucket of runny blue paint landed on your foot? And no water in sight, just a paint rag? I dipped the brush on my blue covered foot and painted the bridge; then I put the rag around my foot and hot-footed it down the steps to the hose…
It’s funny how blue pigment is so difficult to remove. The worst of it came off. It came off my thong sandals and it almost came off the quarry tiles; it came off my skin, although three toe nails are still sky-blue (who needs nail varnish?); I fear it will never come out of my favourite orange pants but I’ll like them nonetheless as a painting outfit.
Now I’m done with painting for the day. I’ve had two showers (as have the walls, plants and the statue of Diana) and I’m not risking any more accidents. Am I feeling a bit blue? Not really, the bridge looks lovely and I’ve had a bit of fun recounting the tale to you.
The photos below were taken after second hosing down.
A Paler Shade of Blue
I was trying to think of a nice title for the lovely photos I took as I was walking home from my Mum’s house today, and “A Paler Shade of Blue” came into my mind. It somehow seemed fitting, given that the sky and sea were so blue and enticing for an artist with a camera phone in her hand. For a moment the old song “A Whiter Shade of Pale” played inside my head and I had to wrack my brains to come up with the correct title. Then I had the brilliant idea of checking out “A Paler Shade of Blue” in Google…
One should never feel too surprised when searching the Internet – of course, other people, too, had thought the words, “A Paler Shade of Blue” had a nice ring to it. Not only is there a 1992 movie of that title but also a beautiful song written by singer/songwriter/musician Michael Armstrong. I liked it so much that I copied and pasted for you. And here my photos of a paler shade of blue, not that they are especially pale – just very blue!
MICHAEL ARMSTRONG – ‘PALER SHADE OF BLUE’ PROMO VIDEO …
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_T0IiE4a1qw
12 May 2012 – Uploaded by Michael Armstrong
Shot on one camera, it echoes the lyrics of his debut single, ‘Paler Shade of Blue‘, which bemoans a failed …
-
- The sight of all that blue lured me to stop and find a good vantage point.
-
- I love those chimneys on Coastguard Cottages
-
- With a blue backdrop even St Agatha’s managed to look more picturesque than usual.
-
- As I neared home…
-
- Don’t you like the blue railings?
Sunset Skies and a Surprise Meeting on the River Beach
“Oh, Sally, the sky is a beautiful pink!” said my dear old mum who is nearly blind. We were chatting on the phone at the time, a little earlier this evening. She must have been looking out of the window from her chair by the phone in her kitchen. Mum knew that after our call was finished I would go out onto our balcony to see the same sunset pink clouds.
Our house faces south-east so we get wonderful sunrises over the sea but never sunsets. However, occasionally (like this evening) the sky is aglow with some of the colours of the sun setting gloriously in the west. The back beach at Teignmouth, just three miles away, is the best place around here for taking in the sunsets, which reminds me…
The last time I was at the river beach as the sun went down was about a month ago, when it was still summer (if a tad cold, even so); Chris and I went with a party of family and friends to have an alfresco dinner on the tables outside the “Ship Inn” before going on to see a play (“Beyond Expectations”, which really was beyond expectations!). Loads of holiday-makers aswell as locals were out enjoying the sunny evening and the bustle of life on the river beach. Just prior to leaving for the play I thought I’d take a photograph of the scene. I was holding out my mobile camera in an outstretched arm when I recognised a face on the screen…
“It’s Nigel – isn’t it?” I beamed.
“Hello Sally,” Nigel answered, just as pleased to see me as I was to see him.
“You haven’t changed a bit!” I thrilled (it’s always great to note that people haven’t changed drastically over the years!).
“Nor have you,” he was equally as enthusiastic.
“I can’t remember how long it’s been since last I saw you,” I said.
“Surely it’s not that long ago,” he replied, “but I’m often here in the evenings if you ever want to see me.”
A pal of his laughed and we all laughed.
“Well, I have to go – we have a play to see in about five minutes – it was so good to see you – can I take a photo of you before I go?”
So I took a photo of Nigel and we kissed and hugged goodbye (his mate smiled). I didn’t tell Nigel that it must have been at least twenty years, perhaps more, since we met last. It wasn’t a long conversation for such an exciting reunion, I realise, but everyone was waiting… and we weren’t that great friends at school.
-
- I wish I could remember his surname….
Pesky Photographers
Don’t you just hate going out for a walk with a photographer? He or she doesn’t even have to be a professional photographer either – the keen amateur is far worse – and nearly everyone these days is a keen amateur (just not in my circle of friends). Modern mobiles have such great camera capabilities now that many owners get rather carried away with the idea that everything in sight might be that special, one in a million, sensational shot (quite by accident, of course).
Most people have a particular style of walking in the countryside (or Fells in this instance). Some race on ahead of the others in a party – they are the natural leaders (and fitness experts); they assume the role of the pace-setter and carry on charging ahead to a point which they think would be a good resting place… perhaps by a gate or tree. They wait by the pretty spot and recover their breaths until the plodders arrive at the resting place, after which they instantly shoot off again to their favoured position fifty metres in front.
The plodders are the dreamers and altruists. They know full well that they could easily keep up with the leaders if they wished but they don’t wish to; for them the enjoyment of taking a walk in the countryside is considerably heightened by taking their time, and breathing in the beauty as they go along, rather than gasping by a gate or tree after a fast stretch. Another reason why the plodders walk at a leisurely pace is because they worry about the stragglers behind. A sense of concern and their empathy with the underdog suits them well in certain circumstances, such as walking in the countryside, because this gives them an excuse to go against the urging of the natural leaders – after all, the dreamers don’t want to be led, they simply want to amble around freely to look at butterflies, heather, gorse or even brown thistle stalks… if they fancy! Sometimes they take pleasure in applying guilt tactics to persuade the leaders to wait a few more seconds at the resting place, maybe holding the gate open, until the straggler catches up.
The keen photographer is both a straggler and a mountain goat. But the photographer does not lag behind intentionally to irritate; one’s love of every single minute detail of nature (not to mention the chance of that million-to-one brilliant shot) draws one off the path – up a rock, under a bough, through a gap in a fence, crouching down to the height of a chicken, any and every angle possible (for that something special and unusual). And poor weather is no deterrent – there is “drama” in the shadows and “magic” in the mist; an interested cow or a stoical goat on a hillside is a model of perfection worthy of its moment of fame behind the lens. Then, with a sureness of foot akin to a mountain goat, the lagging photographer runs over rocky terrain to catch up with the plodders who are passing through the gate held open by the leader…
Feeling rather fit and innervated by all the bursts of ambling and running, the photographer overtakes the leaders and at last manages to take some portrait shots… How irritating! Don’t you just hate walking with a pesky photographer?
Sunrise, Sunset, Swiftly Goes a Day (Or Two)
A morning mist and a high tide produced a sunrise as pretty as a picture yesterday morning but we left our sea views at home in Dawlish and headed “t’north”, way up to the Lake District.
This evening, from Hill Top – the last home of famous author Arthur Ransome (who wrote ‘Swallows and Amazons’) and now the home of our friends Stephen and Janine – we watched the sun go down beautifully in a mist over the Fells.