As you read this, I may be on a train to London. No not THIS train, silly. Something far less romantic, which may or may not run on time. But which will not bring me to journey’s end covered in soot and smelling of coal. Signing off for a few days.
It’s my turn this week to host Leanne’s Monochrome Madness challenge. And I’ve chosen Walls. We’re all surrounded by them: at home, at work, in town, in the garden … even in the countryside. What can we find?
Let’s start off in town. Here’s a wall that’s lived a bit, in Alella, Catalunya.
And another, in Premià de Dalt, where a town wall becomes a place to celebrate the work of a poet who came from there, Marià Manent.
A smarter wall this time, from the Unterdenlinden Museum in Colmar, Alsace.
Here’s a wall in Lewisham, London, with a message that needs shouting loud and clear. Why is palm oil so hard to avoid in the average weekly shop?
Walls can support plants as well as paintings and messages. Here’s a walled garden in the grounds of Beningbrough Hall, Yorkshire.
But walls can be all-encompassing too. Here are tunnel walls on a motorway in France.
But this Yorkshire lass can’t forget the emblematic drystone walls of her home county. I’ll leave you with these picture postcards from home.
And the header photo? That’s me on the Thames Path in London, my shadow against a wall in Woolwich.
- If you would like to participate in this challenge ... - Please post photos on your blog and use the tag Monochrome-Madness. - Include a link to the host’s post for the theme, and link back to Leanne’s post. - The next theme is announced the week before the theme. - The themes are every second week, and on the alternating week, you can post what you like.
A quick look at shadows, the enigmatic feelings of mystery they can sometimes produce.
The featured photo shows the early morning sun, somewhere near here. No mystery perhaps. More a feeling of unknown promise in the day ahead. And below, this quiet photo from Laberint d’Horta in Barcelona reminds me of a morning I spent there discovering , hidden amongst the trees, apparently ancient statuary.
Two urban photos: one from the once gritty underside of Leeds, suggesting its dirty and industrial past, the other from a up-to-the-minute quarter of Barcelona. I like the hard-to-decipher shadows on the textured overhanging roof.
And lastly, another from canal-side Leeds. Someone should write a story about this young woman sitting contemplatively beneath the shadows of the trees.
The London Team is with us this week, so all my shots are family ones, and in Glorious Techicolor. So here are a few shots from my last visit to London itself, taken along the Thames Path near Woolwich.
These last three weeks, when we go to Spain – as we do every January – to catch up with the Catalan family and dodge the English winter, have not gone according to plan. The weather was just as awful in Spain as it apparently was in England, and all those named storms spread themselves liberally about, making sure nobody was spared. So our plan to have a final week driving home in a leisurely fashion, exploring Spanish towns we haven’t so far visited just got junked. We stayed on with the family and cleared out cupboards for them.
You’ve seen what the drive home was like. Here are a few shots from our very last stop-over, in Amboise, a charming historic town on the River Loire with a glorious Royal Château. It managed not to rain, but goodness, it was cold! We’ve promised ourselves we’ll go back, when the weather’s kinder, and when we haven’t got a ferry to catch later in the day. Here’s a taster:
Here are three shots of the Château: well, one’s of a perching pigeon really, and one of the town gates. The featured photo is of the Château too, dominating the riverscape as night fell and the full moon pierced the misty night sky.
In my shallow way though, I’m also going to show you a window display that caught our eye. It’s just the kind of shop you need if you require a suit of armour, a sword or two, or some sexy underwear for a half-sized doll.
The British Sovereignhas an Official Birthday in order to conduct the Trooping the Colour at a suitable time of year. Our family: or at least the London and Spanish branches and us, had an Official Christmas at a suitable time in December: and we went to West Sussex together. Here was the winter seaside. A couple of these shots are natural monochromes because – well – the weather was naturally monochrome.
And that herring gull I showed the other day seemed to attract a few fans – as a bit of an anti-hero, I guess. So here he is again, on sentry duty.
I think most English speaking people have come across the Christmas song in which the singer is offered by the beloved a whole series of different gifts over the twelve days of the festival, beginning with a single partridge in a pear tree. Here’s a list of those gifts:
On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me .... (and so on, through to the last day of all)
A partridge in a pear tree Two turtle doves Three French hens Four calling birds Five gold rings Six geese a-laying Seven swans a-swimming Eight maids a-milking Nine ladies dancing Ten lords a-leaping Eleven pipers piping Twelve drummers drumming
My Monochrome Madness Challenge to you is to illustrate this song, just choosing three or four of those gifts. I’m not going to be harsh. For instance. If you choose swans a-swimming , you really don’t have to have seven. One will do. If you’ve got ten or more French hens, who cares? Because I set the challenge, and in case I hear any more un-Christmas-y mutterings from those to whom I’ve already disclosed my theme, I’m going to illustrate all twelve to prove it can be done. And taking liberties is entirely acceptable. In fact, it’s to be encouraged. Here goes.
On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me – a partridge in a pear tree. ‘Ooops. The partridge seems to have flown off. He’ll be back in a minute. Bound to be.’On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me – two turtle doves.’We’re not turtle doves, just common-or- garden pigeons. But we’re related. We’re fine. Choose me! Choose me!.’
On the third day of Christmas my true love sent to me – three French hens. ‘I don’t know whether we have French blood. Probably not. Does it matter?’
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – four calling birds. ‘Just me at the moment. The others’ll be along soon.’
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – five gold rings. ‘There’s just that one on top, mate. But there’s bound to be a few more if you take your time and look.’On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – six geese a-laying. ‘They’re on their way to do just that, sir.’On the seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me – seven swans a-swimming. The others are over there – on the other side of the pond.On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – eight maids a-milking. ‘Yep, that little maid was only born the other day. She’s milking her mum alright! Seven more calves due in the next few days. Just gotta be patient.’On the ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – nine ladies dancing. ‘Just nine you want? Yes, we can do that for you, sir.’On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – ten lords a-leaping. ‘We might find it difficult to supply the full set of ten sir. Most lords aren’t as young as they once were. But look at these two. Can’t fault their leaping.’
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me – eleven pipers piping. ‘If you think your young lady can take the noise, we can certainly do you the full eleven pipers.’
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me – twelve drummers drumming. ‘Easy. We’ve got at least eleven more on call just like this fellah. Would that suit you?’
There! Now just pick three or four of those days and show us what you can do.
It’s November, so leaves and petals in the UK have largely done a bunk. Still, maybe I can find a little spring and summer time cheer in the archives, and fulfill my obligations to Monochrome Madness‘ host this week, Dawn; as well as to Becky’s NovemberShadows.
The header photograph includes both: tulip leaves shafting upwards, and topped by the simple clean lines of the tulip flower.
For the rest, it’s a miscellany that took my fancy. But all are either in shadow, or casting a shadow. So first … leaves…
… and flowers…
And finally, a doughty dandelion, flourishing on a brick wall in the gardens of Beningbrough Hall, near York. How it nourished all those leaves and petals is quite beyond me.
You must be logged in to post a comment.