Since my last photo post, as opposed to video post, in March I've taken a range of photos of things I've seen. Some I've taken with my camera, some on my phone. Some were taken in March. Some are already April images. But here they are, a diary-style blogpost of places and creatures I've eyeballed since I last posted.
Random Acts of Would-be Photography
A photographic experiment with words.
Tuesday 2 April 2024
March Into April
Thursday 14 March 2024
Marching Further Onwards Into March
Friday 8 March 2024
Marching Through March
I pulled on my anorak and welly boots and bravely marched into the March sunshine to capture some daffs, except the sun had gone in and the wind had come up and it was bitterly cold and very muddy.
Also, I began my photo sequence in March 2020 at the end of the month, not the beginning. Whilst some of the local wild daffodils are blooming at the moment, many others have yet to do so. There are therefore fewer daffodils in this post than I was anticipating, but there are some other spring blooms, plus a couple of pheasants and, oh yes, lots of South Cambridgeshire mud.Focusing on the positive, however, you can't feel how very, very cold it was from the photographs. Be grateful.
Thursday 8 February 2024
10 Years Old Today!
This photo blog is ten years old today. I published the first two posts on it on 8th February 2014. How time flies.
To celebrate, I am uploading ten photos, mostly from the archives, that all have something to do with the number ten or celebration (or, at least, how I like to celebrate).
A Random Photo From 2010 |
Because it's a celebration |
10th Month of 2014 |
A10 |
Cake (from my 2015 Witchlight launch party) because it's a celebration |
9+1=10 (from the countdown to the 2020 launch of Old Light) |
Candles because it's a celebration |
A photo from day 10 of my 2020 daily lockdown blog |
Flowers, because you have to have flowers when it's a celebration |
A photo from the first photo-post on 8th February 2014 |
Thursday 1 February 2024
Landscapes
Landscapes
This is the landscape of others' daydreams
dinner plate flat and domesticated like a tablecloth.
It’s too predictable to be perfectly safe.
Small ducks paddle in its bilges
and moorhens waddle pond-toed
over the flat green baize of the water weed.
to tidy perfection.
Even its countryside is disciplined.
an ordered game of chess played out
on clearly delineated fields
with rolled hay-bales for pawns.
Let your imagination stroll off
and it will return
appropriately and impeccably chaperoned.
There is no chance of inadvertently
stumbling on where the wild things are.
God forbid there should be wild things.
This was your land
though I never saw it.
I thought you were with me
chasing the swallow's tail to the next new horizon
when all you wanted was to play hide-and-seek
in the not so long grass;
the extent of the wilderness you hankered for.
While you came and went
but the buzzard on its way to the high places.
My ears dreamt of the wind's drum beat
and the sea moaning for the rock heavy coast.
I climbed moorland and mountains in my sleep
but when I came down again
you were not there.
I had lost you to the hay stack fields,
playing hide-and-seek with reality:
our landscapes sundered without us noticing.
Go feed the ducks
they will need looking after.