Weekly Photo Challenge … Saturated
I am naturally eager, by some considered over enthusiastic.
My father used to say ‘I never do anything by halves.’ I agree, I always go for the kill. This of course is at times difficult to maintain even with me, so long in the tooth. That is not say that I start something and never finish; I do mostly!! I am not a fool in that respect. Sometimes, however I do go crazy and create a naughty monster when all I wanted was well behaved goldfish.
My recent endeavour is a case in point. I have been writing a daily journal; three pages in long hand. It is lovingly addressed to the Page Three Lady; who you may or not know is a lady who would expose her breasts on the page three of a national tabloid. In the 70s she might have become a minor celebrity if she decided to exploit her media exposure. However, I digress. After a while not content with just writing daily I thought I might illustrate my journal. Then one thing lead to another and before long I was having painting lessons. And now I am saturated in colour, shape, form, texture perspective etc. I think I maybe drowning.
Monday … from my Sunday walk.
Yesterday; I took a short walk a little later than usual; to the campus. I revisited some plants and shrubs that I pass daily and had promised myself a better look. The weather was very kind although the sun didn’t break through the light cloud until much later; for a while rain threatened. Nonetheless it was very pleasant to wander before the freshers arrived.
Silent Sunday
Saturday … don’t blink you might miss it.
I have a tiny walled garden; over the last 25 years it has developed into a haven of colour perfume. I have tried to ensure that each plant is given the space it needs and providing it survives in shade or semi shade and well draining soil, it is left to its own devices. My garden is in the town centre so sunlight is not always an option. The soil well is tired and old; while I can add some bulky organic material there is little I can do to retain much moisture. I do water and feed from time to time but generally the plants to fend for themselves; and rarely fail to delight.
My herb garden; is a series of containers dragged from skips and dumps over the years. They have been filled with hardy and semi- hardy plants, to provide perfume and kitchen use. For couple of years now a Salvia, with a pineapple perfume and spikes of scarlet flowers, beyond expectation has bravely beaten the snow and frosts.
I have photographed it because I wonder if each year will be its last.
However instead today I did a little painting; mainly as an illustration for my ‘book’ so it is tiny! but worthy of a poem in the haiku style
Among scarlet spikes
Lavender, Rosemary, Sage
Pineapple perfume.
Friday’s library snapshot …
I have a passion for alphabet books; and over the last couple years have featured some on my Friday slot. I have also rummaged through them for inspiration when flummoxed for the Alphabe Thursday.
My favourite for all time is Apples Berkshire Cider : the A-Z to apples, apple growing and cider-making in in Berkshire written by Duncan Mackay, illustrated by Peter Hay designed & lettered by Pip Hall and published by Two Rivers Press and New Road Cyderists.
The first letter in the alphabet gives a good introduction to the book and its aims.
‘A is for apples and Apple Day. There are over 2,000 varieties of apples in Britain today (and at least 6,000 have been grown here in the past) However we are in acute danger of losing this precious heritage because of standardisation and modern methods of fruit production. The purpose of this book is to help everyone become more aware of apples and to take action to STOP THE ROT. Each page covers an aspect of apple culture, apple growing or cider making and contains an action point with suggested activities to encourage participation in local practices to maintain this aim.
Apple Day is celebrated on October 21st each year and festivals take place all over Britain around around the nearest weekend.
Alphabe Thursday … S is for Sundial
I seem to have been swayed by sundials for a week or two; and so did a little research for this weeks letter; and recycled images from previous weeks
The origin of the sundial has been lost in time; but it is seems the relationship between time and a man’s shadow is always noticed. So, man himself was the first sundial. In the same way the direction and length of the shadows of different objects, trees, rocks or buildings would have been associated with the passage of time, both the time of day and the time of year.
The latter was particularly important, just as it is today, for a man needed to know the seasons of the year accurately, in order to know when to sow, when to gather in the harvest, when to prepare for the onset of winter and when to expect storms and floods.
A wooden staff or pole driven into the ground in a vertical position would have been the simplest way for the farmer to discover such information; by the direction and length of its shadow.
Although most of us think of a sundial as an ornament for the garden rather than a timepiece. It was however vertical wall sundials that were probably more common than any other form of dial and served both to regulate public clocks and to indicate time to passersby.
Wednesday … Mexico, Frida, Neruda and much more
Mexico, the last of the magic countries … Pablo Neruda
On Saturday,my partner and I went to Royal Academy to to see Mexico ; a revolution in art 1910-1940. We had pre-booked the tickets and arrived a little so we could have a coffee. We found a nice convenient cafe rather discretely placed by the information desk. It was ‘oh so nice’ with delicious gluten free chocolate cake and fine coffee. We spent a pleasant few minutes people watching; remarking at the elegance and style or not of other visitors to the RA. Quite oblivious to the fact that we had found ourselves in the Member’s Lounge; although we were suitably dressed we did feel like a pair of ragamuffins. We giggled later, when we compared the surroundings to that the plebeians were confined to down the corridor. Fortunately no one else noticed that we had infiltrated to forbidden area; as we didn’t until we left by the other door that was clearly marked ‘Members only.’ It all added to the fun.
I enjoyed the exhibition and learn a lot. Although I had read a little about the revolution, also seen the film, Frida Kahlo and read the book Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver, about the relationship between Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo and Trotsky; my impression was rather glamorized and in technicolor. The exhibition and the commemorative book ‘examined the dynamic period during which Mexico underwent profound political, social and economic transformation. As a means of communicating the change, art was the centre of the process. As a result, a new nationalistic art emerged, celebrating the rich history, ethnic diversity and geography of Mexico, attracting visitors from all over the world’. People such as D.H. Lawrence, Graham Greene, Robert Capa, Picasso, Edward Weston, Laura Gilpin and many others whose works were in the exhibition.
I particularly enjoyed a self-portrait by Frida Kahlo; by now emerged out of the shadow of her husband Rivera and an artist in her own right. It was a her smallest painting and created as a love token for Trotsky with whom she shared a loving relationship for while.
Weekly Photo Challenge … From lines to patterns
I didn’t have to go far for ‘lines’ which is a shame because the result is a little unimaginative. So I apologise. I work in a library five days a week and I am surrounded with lines, rules and regulation. This rigidity can go one of two ways after a difficult day; I might have the urge untidy all the bookshelves and this is often a powerful option. However, the other choice is far more extreme; finding the need to straighten very book in the land is very difficult to curb.
Monday, after a mixed Sunday
Yesterday I went for my usual walk, I say walk but I mean a mixture. I took my bike to the centre of Reading. Sadly, also not as usual, it was raining, not hard but the cloud was heavy and grey. So photography was not easy; with the bike as an added appendage and the gloom.
So to get the deadly deed over and back for a cup of tea; I shackled the bike to a fence. Now I wandered more easily.
My reason for going to to Reading centre, was in response to a conversation overheard in a queue to to get train tickets at the station yesterday morning. The lady was seriously bemoaning the greyness of Reading. Of course she could moan, she was going to Lake Garda in Italy for her holidays. We can all moan about our home towns; it is allowed.
But I felt strangely protective and wanted to prove her wrong, not directly of course dear lady is probably sunning herself as we speak in Lake Whatever. While I am in fact in grey Reading, in the shadow of Reading Prison and the Abbey ruins and it is very grey!
There are some bright spots and all it not so bad.
Silent Sunday …
Coat Hanger Doll's House 