I popped into Masham on Friday afternoon, and found they were already pretty much prepared for this weekend’s annual Sheep Fair. More of this soon, when I’ve downloaded yesterday’s camera photos from this Must-Visit event. Friday’s phone photo offers a preview.
For Brian’s Last on the Card
This week, for the Lens Artists Challenge, Tina invites us to show off ten of our all-time favourite photos. Not only must we explain why we like them, but they have to be technically top-hole too. I can’t do it. When an image is freighted with memories, whether happy or exciting or astonishing, unpicking these from technical considerations is something this snap-shot-ist can’t do. I shall be disqualified. I can live with that.
I first ‘needed’ a camera when I had the chance to spend a month travelling in India in 2007. I was even more point-and-shoot than I am now. Here’s just one memory, taken from my hotel window in the French quarter of Pondicherry (as it was then called), Builders, both men and women, unstacking their consignment of bricks to begin their day’s work at 6.00 a.m. Some of my best memories come from staring out of that window: such as the women who cleaned the streets at night, sitting right in the middle of the road at 2.00 a.m. cheerfully chattering during their break.
By then, we were already living in France. How to pick just a few shots from that period? Let’s have a go. I’ll choose pale and delicate wild daffodils in the mountains just outside Foix, in such profusion it was almost impossible to avoid treading on them. I’ll choose pristine snow, many feet deep, just waiting for a Sunday snow-shoeing outing. The only sound was the snow itself, squeaking softly as we trod it down with our raquettes. I’ll choose a dramatic , never-repeated sunset which glowered over our small town one spring evening.
And sea-voyages. We’ve had a lot of those – back and forth to France when we lived there and came back here often to see family. Nowadays it’s because we need to get to Spain where my daughter and her family live. There’s often a dramatic skyscape.
And now North Yorkshire’s home, with its stone-walled Dales, its meadows and hills, its autumn fogs.
And then there’s Fountains Abbey, where I spend so much time volunteering. Can’t leave that out. We’re just coming into autumn, which may be my favourite season there. So the Abbey in Autumn in my featured photo.
So these are my choices today. Yesterday I might have chosen differently. Tomorrow I’d choose other shots.
PS. Can anybody tell me why WP is no longer always allowing me to centre my photos? Or – now that WP have made it impossible to comment directly onto a post, how to comment on a post that’s more than a couple of days old, such as Tina’s one about this challenge, and which is no longer reachable on the Reader?
What do you need to do to recharge your batteries? That’s the question posed by Egidio, in this week’s Lens-Artists Challenge. And my answer is the same as his: I need to get out, to surround myself with the natural world.
Living in France, in the foothills of the Pyrenees, the mountains grounded me in many ways. The sheer scale of them put me in my place – in a good way: reminding me how little my own concerns counted in the great scheme of things. Here’s a quiet scene from a lakeside high up the slopes not too far from our house.
Or these, from le Cap du Carmil …
There, lakes provided the solace that being near water often provides. Back in the UK, it’s the sea.
For the everyday recharge, it’s greenery, plain and simple. Local woodlands.
…or just a little bit more distant – Coverdale.
There’s just one place I need to mention though: one I’ve talked about before, more than once. A special afternoon and evening in l’Albufera, just beyond Valencia, where there is nothing but the lagoon, the sky, and wildlife … and peace. That’s my featured photo, and my best recharge ever.
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.
Townie Toddler has gone back to Spain. The house suddenly seems unwontedly calm and quiet. Rather dull really. This is probably because the two old fogies who live here have no remaining energy – for a day or two at least.
Townie Toddler’s mum wanted her daughter to spend time being a child of the countryside – spending time with its animals, plants and wide open spaces. So off we went on Saturday to Borrowby Show. Horses from shire horses to the tiniest of ponies, sheep, dogs and small animals were all Being displayed to best advantage. Oddly, the only cattle were two charming Jersey calves. One of the set pieces in the afternoon was of The Hunt. Definitely NOT our thing. But Anaïs enjoyed the chance to meet the docile and well-behaved beagles who later tore round the show ring in pursuit of – luckily – a less than realistic hare, who doubtless smelt right.
Here’s our day:
Then the next day, on our way to the airport, it was Meanwood Valley Urban Farm. It was somewhere we often went when we lived in Leeds, and the children were smaller. We loved it then. Now it’s re-invented itself. It’s larger. It has peaceful walks where you can lose yourself in dense copses and apparently distant views. It has all the farmyard animals you’d expect. Yet it’s within walking distance of Leeds City Centre. It has a vegi-box scheme. A bike workshop. It works with volunteers, those with learning disabilities, disengaged young people, and is a welcoming and environmentally focussed part of its local community. It also has a really great café. We spoke to staff and volunteers who talked with pride and enthusiasm about this special place. Almost worth moving back to Leeds for. It was a wonderful finish to Anaïs’ and Emily’s English break.
Brian? Do you see those pigs? That shot’s my Last on The Card in July.
… and meets sheep and ducks and fish. Among other forms of animal, bird and insect life.
For Debbie’s Six Word Saturday.
It’s summer – well, here in Europe it is anyway – and our thoughts turn to holidays. So when Philo of Philosophy through Photography fame threw down the challenge to celebrate Simplicity for Lens-Artists Challenge #257, I thought I’d leaf through my holiday albums and see what I could find.
Let’s go to the beach first, in Alnmouth Northumberland.
And then back to Yorkshire, to Wharfedale, where water coursing down the limestone slopes has formed this dramatically undulating landscape.
Let’s stay in Yorkshire, for harvest time at Sutton Bank.
Still, we can’t stay in England forever. Let’s catch a ferry across the North Sea.
We’ll nip across to Valencia, to l’Albufera: send a postcard as the header photo, before going south to Cádiz …
… and all the way over to Greece …
… before coming back to England ..
…where poppies blow …
… and the fog descends…
Holiday well and truly over, I think.
I have chosen dry stone walls in response to Brian Bushboy’s Lens-Artists Challenge #253: Fragments. Which is rather odd of me.
Dry stone walls are far from fragmentary. These walls march across the moorland and pasture landscapes of much of northern- and parts of the rest of – England, dividing farm from farm, and fields from their neighbours. Labour-intensive to construct, they can last for centuries: carefully assembled courses of locally-found stone with not a splash of mortar to be seen. The ancient craft is still alive and well, and the modern apprentice can hone his or her skills through Levels 1, 2 & 3.
Still, the stones used in their construction are fragments of an ancient landscape of local rock: of millstone grit, of limestone, flint, granite: whatever is locally available. Some elderly walls are fragments of older, longer ones, and some are indeed somewhat broken.
Really, I just wanted an excuse to celebrate this much loved feature of our landscape, telling a story of centuries of farming in harsh conditions where man has worked tirelessly to make a living.
A request came into our photo club. Did anyone fancy coming along to a local farm open day to make a record of the day in pictures? Three of us did. And we had the best Sunday out.
Rock House Farm is near Bedale: a member of LEAF, an organisation promoting sustainable farming. As modern farms go, it’s small. Just some cows, sheep and pigs, hens (for eggs) and turkeys (for Christmas). And an allotment, which supplies the family as well as providing fruit for the (fresh and delicious) jams and chutneys they sell.
Our morning was spent with the animals – and visitors . We got photos of children’s delight at enjoying getting so close to them, at feeding the hens, and chatting to piglets . Although parents had given permission for them to be photographed, it doesn’t seem fair to display them on the internet, so I won’t show you this special part of the day.
There was a woman fashioning wooden spoons, a wood turner, local heather honey on sale.
There was lunch, made using their own-produced meats and sausages, served with salads then home-made cakes, eaten with views of flower-meadows and long-ranging views of the Yorkshire countryside. I was too busy enjoying it all to remember about taking photos.
What I can share with you is what for us was the highlight of the day. We’re old enough to remember when meadows full of wild flowers were quite normal in the countryside. Now the ones on this farm are sufficiently unusual that they’re Sites of Special Scientific Interest, rich in colour and buzzing with insect life. We spend a happy hour following the meandering mown path which wandered through these riches.
We’ll be back for sure. We eat little meat, but the animals raised here have good lives, mainly in the open, and we’d have confidence in buying here. As well as their fresh eggs, and tasty produce.
This farm had been obliged to hold their open day on the Wrong Day for family reasons. The real LEAF Open Farm Day event this year is this Sunday, 11th June, so if you live in the UK, you can find out if there’s a farm open near you, here. Highly recommended.
For Jo’s Monday Walk
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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