If you look at this girder in a certain light, it looks slightly orange. Maybe. But I just wanted to find an excuse to post this photo: almost the only one I took in colour on our Newcastle sortie the other day.
For Debbie’s One Word Sunday: Orange.
Our day in Newcastle earlier this week wasn’t just about people-watching. We’d come to walk the banks of the Tyne, weaving back and forth over at least some of its seven bridges. Let’s take a bird’s eye view of the scenes we saw.
This is what those pigeons in the header photo were looking for.
This young herring gull was inspecting me as I inspected him. He was tucked behind a railing just beyond that first planter.
We wandered onto the Swing Bridge, which luckily didn’t want to open to allow river traffic through. Its elderly wooden jetties provided the perfect resting place for gangs of pigeons.
Then we walked down this walkway, for another view of the Millennium Bridge …
… but one of our views of the Sage was reflected in a nearby office window.
We didn’t really see any more wildlife. Unless this counts.
I’ll see if I’m allowed to sneak both the pigeons and the herring gull into I. J. Khanewala’s Bird of the Week.
On Tuesday, Country Mouse (me) went to the Big City (Newcastle). Big cities are busy, full of life, of people. And that’s why I was there. A friend in my fairly-newly-joined photographic club had offered to take me in hand, get me over my diffidence in photographing people I don’t know, and communicate as well his affection for black-and-white photography. Newcastle was the place to go.
We started in the station. We walked along the banks of the Tyne. We criss-crossed several of the seven – yes seven – bridges spanning the river between Newcastle and Gateshead. The shots we took there are for another day.
We took pictures of bridges, buildings, windows, shadows, gulls, pigeons, statues, rotting wood, city swank and urban decay. And we took shots of people click on any image to see it full-size.
It occurred to me that I might get away with offering these for John’s Lens Artists Challenge: Faces in a Crowd.
In this week’s Nature Photo Challenge, Denzil has asked us to focus on seedheads. You won’t get any more ripened seeds in one place than in a field of cereal crops awaiting harvest. Here’s a local example in my header photo.
And here are some close-ups of barley and wheat.
And here’s a gallery of their wild cousins – grasses. Not one of which I can more accurately identify. Any offers?
Then there’s cow parsley -or a close relation. It can be yielding its seed, perhaps in the midst of a field of crops round about now, or picturesquely hosting a spider’s web in misty November.
At this time of year too there’s rosebay willow herb: it seems to develop seed pods earlier every year. Here are some at a local reservoir, Grimwith.
And finally and almost inevitably, teasel.
Shrewsbury in Shropshire. How to pronounce it? Shrowsbury or Shrusebury? I was brought up with the former. Apparently most locals prefer the latter. Apart from those who don’t. I give up. Let’s go on a stroll round this lovely, quiet, tucked-away town with oodles of history. Click on any image to reveal it full size, with caption.
For Debbie’s Six Word Saturday.
And the Salvador Dali and electricity boxes qualify for Natalie’s Photographing Public Art Challenge.
As regular readers know already, I’m a huge fan of Food for Free. Especially at this time of year, I never leave the house without a useful ‘au cas où’ bag stuffed in my pocket . This is a bag that any rural French person will have about their person always – just in case they find something useful – a few nuts, berries, fungi or leaves to add interest to the store cupboard. At the moment, this is all about the apples, blackberries, bullace and mirabelle plums all growing wild locally. At other times it might be young nettles, wild garlic or other leaves. Soon it will be puffballs. I’m not especially knowledgeable, but I do my best. Yesterday’s haul? Windfall apples (simple stewed apple) mirabelles (frangipane and jam) and bullaces (crumble and bullace cheese – think a plum version of membrillo – very labour intensive).
Although I was brought up foraging, my commitment to it was sealed when we lived in France. Here’s a post I wrote in October 2012.
October 25th, 2012
Well, at this time of year, it isn’t really a case of ‘au cas où’ . You’re bound to find something. A fortnight ago, for instance, Malcolm and I went on a country stroll from Lieurac to Neylis. We had with us a rucksack and two large bags, and we came home with just under 5 kilos of walnuts, scavenged from beneath the walnut trees along the path. A walk through the hamlet of Bourlat just above Laroque produced a tidy haul of chestnuts too.
Yesterday, we Laroque walkers were among the vineyards of Belvèze-du-Razès. The grapes had all been harvested in the weeks before, but luckily for us, some bunches remained on the endless rows of vines which lined the paths we walked along. We felt no guilt as we gorged on this fruit all through the morning. The grapes had either been missed at harvest-time, or hadn’t been sufficiently ripe. They were unwanted – but not by us.
The walnuts we’re used to in the Ariège are replaced by almonds over in the Aude. You have to be careful: non-grafted trees produce bitter almonds, not the sweet ones we wanted to find. But most of us returned with a fine haul to inspect later. Some of us found field mushrooms too.
Today, the destination of the Thursday walking group was the gently rising forested and pastoral country outside Foix known as la Barguillère. It’s also known locally as an area richly provided with chestnut trees. Any wild boar with any sense really ought to arrange to spend the autumn there, snuffling and truffling for the rich pickings. We walked for 9 km or so, trying to resist the temptation to stop and gather under every tree we saw. The ground beneath our feet felt nubbly and uneven as we trod our way over thousands of chestnuts, and the trees above threw further fruits down at us, popping and exploding as their prickly casings burst on the downward journey.
As our hike drew to an end, so did our supply of will-power. We took our bags from our rucksacks and got stuck in. So plentiful are the chestnuts here that you can be as picky as you like. Only the very largest and choicest specimens needed to make it through our rigorous quality control. I was restrained. I gathered a mere four kilos. Jacqueline and Martine probably each collected three times as much. Some we’ll use, some we’ll give to lucky friends.
Now I’d better settle myself down with a dish of roasted chestnuts at my side, and browse through my collections of recipes to find uses for all this ‘Food for Free’.
*From the words of an English hymn sung during Harvest Festival.
For Denzils’ Nature Photo Challenge #24: Edible.
And Jo’s Monday Walk: even though Jo is taking a break.
That’s this post, really. We’ve been away all week, discovering Shropshire with friends who’ve moved there. Getting to know this county and its landscapes, its industrial history, its towns and villages is a work in progress for us. But it’s left me only with time to throw together a quick response to Ann-Christine’s Lens Artists Challenge: Work in Progress.
We’re all Works in Progress – all our lives. But children especially so. Fierce concentration here, and enjoyment too …
Slightly older children can hold their own with adults when it comes to demonstrating proficiency – in this case sheep-handling at Masham Sheep Fair.
Over in the city, street art out-numbers sheep. Here are two works in progress: the first in Valencia, Spain, the second near Brick Lane, London.
And finally, two shots from India that I remember well: the house opposite my hotel in Puducherry, whose construction was a work-in-progress from about six, till late… it’s up there as my featured photo … and a metalworker hard at work producing figures inspired by the nearby temple at Kumbakonam in Tamil Nadu.
As soon as Denzil asked us to focus on tree bark for this week’s Nature Photo Challenge, I remembered a visit we’d had to Westonbirt Arboretum with my daughter-in-law’s parents. I blogged about it at the time: it was all but ten years ago. Time to re-purpose this old post!
September 22nd, 2013
On Friday our co-in-laws took us to Westonbirt Arboretum. If you’re spending a few days round Bristol and Bath there’s no better place to recharge your batteries. You could pass the morning in the Old Arboretum, a carefully designed landscape dating from the 1850’s. There are something like two and a half thousand varieties of tree – 16,000 specimens in all, from all over the world, planted according to ‘picturesque’ principles of the 18th and 19th centuries, offering beautiful vistas, enchanted glades and stately avenues. After a light lunch in the on-site restaurant you could go on to explore the Silk Woods an ancient, semi-natural woodland, or the grassy meadows of the Downs.
It was Robert Holford who designed and encouraged the planting of the Arboretum, back in the mid 19th century. This was a period when plant-hunters were bringing new and exotic species back from their world-wide travels. Holford was able to finance some of these expeditions, and the Arboretum contains many of the specimens his scientific adventurers brought back.
Truly, it’s a magical place. We arrived, let out a collective sigh, and simply allowed stress and worry to fall away. Strolling about, we gazed upwards at trees whose end-of-summer leaves seemed to be fingering the clouds, into copses where we could glimpse others already turning to the ochres and russets of Autumn, and then closely at the trees themselves. It was the bark that caught our attention close up. Smooth and silvery, brown and knobbly, grey and wrinkled, the variety astonished us. Take a look at these. And if you get a chance to visit this Arboretum, at any time of year, then take it.
*Rabindrath Tagore
This week’s Nature Photo Challenge from Denzil is about water plants. My archive has not been especially revealing, and if you think I’m going out on this day of torrential rain to find more, you’ve got another think coming. Perhaps this is a chance to join in to with Jez’s Water Water Everywhere challenge too?
I’ll issue a challenge of my own too. I rather like the images below of spiky, statuesque reeds and grasses in black and white. But perhaps you prefer the original colour?
My first one is from the lake at Kiplin Hall, North Yorkshire
Then we’ll move to Lake Prespa in Greece, where the reeds obscure a handsome egret.
Then back to England, to the River Wye in Derbyshire.
This is a local Nature Reserve at Staveley, North Yorkshire on a bitingly cold day which at least the bulrushes could endure.
My header photo is also from Lake Prespa. I thought the egret and his reedy background demanded colour. Just as my final shot, taken in the gardens of the National Museum, Seoul. South Korea rather requires that splash of orange.
Here in England, in the countryside, we tend to rely on walls and hedges to divide up farms and fields, leaving fences to suburban gardens. Though fences are becoming increasingly common as the years pass. And sometimes fences are added to walls that are getting old and past it. In this shot, I think the fence may be past it too.
I’ve been looking for fences for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. I found fences to contain animals:
I found fences that have objects suspended from them:
… deliberately in the case of the moles. Molecatchers round here have the unhappy habit of suspending their deceased victims from fences, to advertise their services. And, perhaps, to deter other moles …
… accidentally in the case of sheep’s wool…
… deliberately in the case of young lovers declaring their – perhaps – lasting attachment to each other by attaching a padlock to a fence edging a bridge or harbour railing…
Then there are fences for perching on.
And there are fences for making statements. Here’s a local garden fence repurposed during Covid Lockdown in 2020 to thank the NHS. The nurse behind was part of our village’s scarecrow competition which celebrated keyworkers, from NHS staff to supermarket delivery drivers.
Local farmers at election time tend to give the oxygen of publicity to our sitting MP, by advertising him on their walls and fences It wasn’t me who bent the poster over, making it nearly illegible. But I’d definitely have given a hand to the perpetrator.
And finally, though in fact it’s my header photo: a fence in winter. It’s by way of being a historical curiosity. Snow is so last decade, or even last century.
For Dawn’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge #258
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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