Ah, how idyllic … Bolton Castle in Wensleydale. Perfect for a summer’s day out.
Not if you were Mary Queen of Scots though. She spent six months imprisoned here in 1568. Although even that incarceration was relative. She was attended by 30 of her household, which included knights, servants, ladies-in-waiting, cooks, grooms, a hairdresser, an embroiderer, an apothecary, a physician and a surgeon. The remaining 20 or so lodged in the nearby village of Castle Bolton. She went hunting. She had her hair done. She learnt English, since up to this point she could speak only Scots, French and Latin.
Back in the Good Old Days, did you have a Box Brownie? Do you remember hiding yourself in a darkened room to fiddle with the film, threading the spool into your camera and winding it on, only to do the whole thing in reverse twelve shots later when you had to get the thing out to be developed at the chemist’s shop? Do you remember spending your pocket money to have two whole films – that’s twenty four shots – to last you the whole holiday, and the frustrating wait of a week or so before your photos were developed?
Kodak Box Brownie much like mine (Wikimedia Commons)
Jude has asked us to remind ourselves of those days in this week’s Photo Challenge, by asking us to limit ourselves to twelve shots. Jude however is profligate. She’s allowing us to use all twelve shots in a single outing. How improvident! Even so, even with this quite generous allowance, I remembered the old anxieties. Should I take this? Would I regret it because there was something better round the corner? What if I ran out of shots?
Here’s my offering. A friend and I walked on Tuesday (socially distanced, of course) from Ripon to Bishop Monkton by the Ripon Canal, along some country lanes, then back to Ripon alongside the Rivers Ure and Skell. We enjoyed many quiet moments appreciating the waterscapes, the landscapes reached on foot from our starting point in the city centre. Nine miles under our belts, renewed and refreshed.
As a homage to my Box Brownie Days, I’ll show you the photos first in monochrome, then in Glorious Technicolor. It didn’t feel right to edit them in any way (apart from translating them into monochrome).
Ripon Canal.
Ripon Canal.
Ripon Canal.
Ripon Canal.
Fields near Bishop Monkton.
A path near Bishop Monkton.
Newby Hall sen from fields near Bishop Monkton.
The River Ure.
Ripon Canal.
Fields near Ripon.
The River Ure in spate at Bridge Hewick near Ripon.
Ripon Cathedral.
Most look neither better nor worse in my eyes in the two different formats – just different. A couple don’t seem to work, and back in black-and-white days I probably wouldn’t have taken them. Just one works better I think. This journey into the past, thinking more carefully before pointing-and-clicking has been an illuminating and surprising pleasure which I’m sharing with Leya’s Lens Artists Challenge. Click on any image to view full size.
Ripon Canal.
Ripon Canal.
Ripon Canal.
Ripon Canal.
A field near Bishop Monkton.
A woodland path near Bishop Monkton.
Newby Hall seen from across fields near Bishop Monkton.
The River Ure.
Ripon Canal.
Fields near Ripon.
The River Ure in spate at Bridge Hewick near Ripon.
Ripon Cathedral.
This new perspective on photography would have been perfect for Becky’s Square Perspectives: but my pictures aren’t square. I’ll choose one and square it up. Maybe …. this one.
These days, weeks and weeks into Life-with-Covid 19, I crave a nice quiet dinner with people I know, tea parties with friends, or a chinwag in town over a good cup of coffee and a fresh-from-the-oven buttered scone. And I can’t have any of them.
Instead, I’ll settle for memories of a tea party from a few years ago, when we met with good friends to celebrate a couple of birthdays. No tea shop for us, but instead a jaunt on the Wensleydale Railway, a Heritage Railway which runs in normal times through the heart of the Yorkshire Dales .
As we rattled along, enjoying countryside views, smart serving staff plied up with elegant little sandwiches, properly fattening cakes, and the all-important scones served with jam and cream. And tea, of course. And prosecco.
It’s not often that afternoon tea with all the trimmings includes an ever-changing bucolic view through the window.
When all this is over, I’ll remember the quiet moments …
… the early evenings in the garden, as the birds chattered tunefully among themselves …
… the woodland walks, where I was soothed by the changing patterns as, day by day, green leaves unfolded above me, and the flowers of spring, then summer, came and went alongside my path.
And I’ll remember this walk too, from Monday this week, when I exchanged my bosky local landscape for the wider vistas near the North York Moors National Park, where a long slog up a long hill rewards with far-ranging views. And maybe the chance to take a photo requiring depth of field, for Jude’s current photo challenge.
Just look at that. Twelve words. I have to weave those twelve random words into a single poem.
Our U3A writing group is one of the few things that’s continued throughout lockdown. It’s a positive activity at a somewhat negative time. But what CAN you do with a list like that? This, it turns out. I’m not too displeased. And here too are a few photos to illustrate the day.
If you go walking in Wensleydale: if you go for a walk from Jervaulx to Jervaulx via Thornton Steward, you’ll come across this tree home, at the edge of a field, commanding views over the valley. It has just one door and, importantly for Monday Window, just one window.
It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but I always like to imagine a doting grandfather, tall and rangy from a tough life’s farming and probably reminiscent of the BFG, lovingly creating a little refuge for his grandchild in this hollow tree.
A first glimpse ….
… a second glimpse …
… and the whole thing.
I couldn’t fit in it, neither could you. Perhaps the grandchild is too big now. But I know a couple of young people who’d love to play there. Perhaps you do too.
I’ve been thinking about the light as I’ve been on my walks this week. The clear light of the early morning: the clear bright colours that the midday sun encourages, and the warm golden light of evening. Sadly, the weather turned a bit cold and cantankerous as the week drew on, but I did my best to outwit it, or make use of it. And I’ve included just one photo from the winter months, to remind us of the atmosphere of a misty cold day that began with a crusting of frost.
Late morning sun. The poppies brighten the scene.
Without strong sun, there would be no dappled shade in the woods.
Rain’s on its way, making the shot almost monochrome.
The field of barley emphasises the mellow evening light.
The rain mutes and softens the colours of the trees.
A December day in Ripon. Only the street light gives away the fact that this shot isn’t in black and white.
Click on an image to see it full size, and to reveal the caption.
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