So on Friday, I went along with friends from Masham Photographic Club to be an unashamed paparazza. The atmosphere was upbeat and friendly, and those who’d gone to so much trouble to find their costumes and dress up actively sought out opportunities to have their picture taken. There was even a baby … and the oldest were well into their eighties. I felt distinctly underdessed in my workaday trousers and jacket.
An excellent day was had by all: especially after a large plate of tasty fish and chips.
This week’s Monochrome Madness theme is proposed by Aletta of nowathome: and she’s chosen Steps or Stairs. It’s an interesting idea, and one where I could have chosen the grand and elegant staircases gracing the finest palaces and country houses of the rich, titled or famous.
Instead I’ve chosen the steps trodden by ordinary folk on their daily round in Barcelona (featured photo), Newcastle and Sitges; or by monks engaged in their spiritual duties at Fountains Abbey; or by a hiker, needing to nip over a few drystone walls on her several mile journey from A to B.
Or there’s the worker helping construct la Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. It might be one of the most famous buildings in Europe, but shinning about its heights looking for footholds is just part of his 9 – 5, every working day.
Works conttinues at La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
And I’ll leave you with one little treat. A harpist at Jervaulx Abbey this summer, playing at the wedding of some good friends of ours. She was working, even if the rest of us weren’t.
On Friday afternoon, I was back on duty in the deer park at Studley Royal. This time as a sheep dog. Two of my colleagues were leading interested members of the public on a walk round Studley Royal at a time of day when deer tend to be more active. I was there to make sure nobody got left behind: and to enjoy this particularly lovely autumn afternoon.
Red deer are rutting. The stags are collecting themselves a harem so they can breed the next generation. They roar loudly to attract females, and to deter other males from seducing ‘their’ does. If necessary they’ll fight – noisily – with those heavy antlers. We saw harems, which included a few males who, though they had antlers, were too young and inexperienced to have a hope of breeding ths year. It’s a hard life being Top Stag.
Top Stag has a rest.
We saw a stag chasing females on whom it had Breeding Ideas. Mainly, they lost the race, but a couple of does succumbed – briefly and reluctantly – to being impregnated. The act is so brief – no pictures. Anyway, who wants to be a voyeur?
Sika deer, originally from China, are not even thinking about the rut yet. They’re handsome creatures, with simpler antlers than the red deer. We spotted them in smallish groups, but here are a couple of stags.
Sika stags grazing
Fallow deer – living on this site since the 1600s -are only just beginning to think about the rutting season. We saw two young bucks practising: heads down, their antlers clacked and clattered noisily together. No harm done. They’ve no chace of a harem this year.
But our walk was’t just about the deer. We enjoyed the trees, just now decking themselves in autumn finery. We relished the afternoon shadows, striping the fields: and enjoyed seeing long-legged versions of ouselves as we deer-stalked. And sky too, streaked with evening colours as the sun began to set.
As we finished our walk, and dusk was indeed beginning to fall, the moon was rising between the trees. A fitting finish.
A few last images. The quality isn’t great, because my camera was on Zoom on a high setting. But they record memories of a happy autumn afternoon.
It was Masham Sheep Fair at the weekend, so my camera and my phone worked overtime. More another day- maybe.
My feature photo – from my camera – is appropriate: one happy farmer at the end of the day displaying all the cups she’d won. The one below is from my phone, and shows my favourite 400 Roses taking to the floor – well, the town square.
Just over ten years ago, we moved back to England from France. And we had a plan. We’d move to Ripon. It’s a smaller town than Harrogate, where we’d lived before, and which now seemed a scarily huge megalopolis (population 160, 000) compared with small-time Laroque d’Olmes (population 2,700). We were quite clear. We wanted to be in town, so we could make use of public transport and be within walking distance of shops and local amenities. But first of all, we’d rent somewhere so we could take our time choosing the right place.
The very first place we looked at ticked none of those boxes. It was just outside a village with not so much as a shop, five miles from Ripon, has four buses a day, none in the evening and on Sunday. The place on offer was the upper floor of a house attached to a gracious 18th and 19th century country house, set among large gardens, a wooded area and pasture. We fell for it. And ten years later, we’re still here, with no plans to move on.
You can see the pitched roof of our house, attached to the bigger house next door.
The gardens, the woodland are not ours, but we can use them freely. Our landlord lives in another house on the same site, while other family members occupy the bigger house.
Our house is probably no longer recognisable as the dwelling it once was, but parts of the original are still here. It was occupied from the 1200s by lay brothers from Fountains Abbey, who managed sheep and some crops. They slept in a dormitory – the first floor. The house was only re-configured so that it had separate rooms in the Victorian era, when it provided living accommodation for the servants working for the residents of the house next door. So much history here, yet most of it remains unknown.
For this week’s Lens-Artists Challenge, Egidio urges us to share those images which epitomise what ‘fun’ means to us. I’ve settled for something slightly different. I’m going to showcase having fun watching other people having fun.
And I thought I might try an Alphabet of Fun, Let’s see.
Athletic aerobics: a community keep-fit session at the Festa de Gracia in Barcelona this year.
Bubbles and Books. Who doesn’t love chasing big bubbles? Or settling down with a really absorbing book?
Construction. And refurbishment, if it comes to that. One a would-be builder, the other, part of Masham’s Steam Rally earlier this year, working in miniature, to the delight of the crowd.
Dancing. Always good for a bit of fun, whether Catalan traditional, or English Morris-mixed-with-belly-dancing.
Exploring. In this case, discovering climbing and scrambling at Brimham Rocks.
Fairgrounds for fun: an old-style ride at Beamish Museum.
Gifts. This is one of my favourite photos, even if it would win no prizes for technique. A joyful moment at the Spanish Festival of Reyes – Three Kings Day – when my daughter was given a silly present for their equivalent of Secret Santa.
Harmony. Gotta have a little music to bring joy. And in England, that might well be in the form of a brass band.
Indulging and imbibing. A family meal, an evening round the table with friends, perhaps outside, in the town centre. What could be better?
J is for jugglers. Always guaranteed to raise a smile. Here are a couple from Ripon Theatre Festival.
Oh, I say. I think that’s quite enough fun for one day. Letters L – Z will have to sit and sulk. Their moment of fame may arrive. Or not.
I’ve not even mentioned the joy of spending time in the natural world. I’ll content myself today with a single sunset as my featured photo. A frequent evening source of joy when looking out of the bedroom window.
For One Word Sunday this week, Debbie asks us to provide an image, a ‘framed’ image. Luckily, at Brimham Rocks, there is a ready-made frame available for us all to use to capture that Perfect Picture Postcard.
This week, Leanne’s Monochrome Madness has no theme. She has chosen to showcase lighthouses. We’re rather thin on lighthouses round here, so I won’t join her. Instead, I’ll show just a few towers I’ve seen this year.
My first tower of the year was a human one, seen in York.
Then we went to Spain to meet our new granddaughter. And do a spot of discovering too.
Gaudi’s church in Colònia Güell
And later, I went back to Spain again, to lend a hand as my daughter’s maternity leave ran out. I still had moments of sightseeing.
And most recently, it was off to Holgate Mill, a fully functioning windmill slap in the middle of a housing estate in York. I must introduce it properly soon.
My featured photo is of Christ Church Hartlepool, now an Arts Centre. I was going to add in an AI generated photo too. Just for fun. But they were no fun, so I abandoned the idea.
I feel so lucky that the area where I live is rich in trees, because not so very long ago, the local copses were woods, and the woods were forests. Here’s one favourite, an ancient oak: frustratingly, it’s not possible to stand far enough away to get it all in frame. But I love visiting this near neighbour of ours. How many centuries ago did it begin its life?
An ancient oak near North Stainley
There are trees that flourish against the odds. The feature photo shows two trees at Brimham Rocks. Where have they burrowed their roots? Where is the soil that nourishes them? And here are two we meet when walking near Coniston in Yorkshire.
Two trees near Coniston, Grassington
I’m always fond of this tree near Jervaulx Abbey. And I always wonder who the lucky child was who had a second home there.
Here’s another from Jervaulx Abbey itself that always makes me laugh.
The grounds of Jervaulx Abbey, North Yorkshire
This one’s a favourite in our nearby woodland at West Tanfield.
Greensit Batts, West Tanfield
And here’s just another local specimen. Not weird. Just wonderful.
Here are some more images taken in Masham as dozens of historic vehicles trundled slowly through town last Saturday in the early evening sun to take their place in the Market Square to be gazed at by the curious – or closely inspected by fellow enthusiasts.
And some children, schooled by the parents – or grandparents more likely – rushed out into the road before each vehicle passed to place pennies in the path of oncoming vehicles. Malcolm remembers the excitement, as a boy, of finding their now unspendable coins flattened into large discs by those trundling steam rollers and similar. My London childhood denied me such pleasures. Though I do remember fire engines like the one shown as the fourth image here, with one frantic fireman at the front constantly pulling at a rope to ring the tinny bell urging people out of the way.
And here are the children and their pennies …
And here are some of the characters we saw. Though what one little group was doing canvassing for Votes for Womem (sic) escaped me.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
You must be logged in to post a comment.