winter

 

Shakespeare in Winter

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

thin ice

the loved one arrived home very late from an exhausting day at the office to be greeted by this question ...

"have you spent your day dreaming up new ways to make me happy ?"

today there was no time to stop, i got out for two minutes to photograph this line of downland just as a shadow crossed it so i'll have to go back

 

and there, in a wood, a piggy-wig stood ...

 

... with a ring on the end of his nose !

 

that darned hedge ...

 

and those darned trees

 

the photographer's lament, or why truck driving and photography are uneasy companion activities

it seems to me that a lot of my favourite chunks of landscape are actually composite views, memorized incompletely from multiple whizz-by glimpses

today this difficulty imposed itself twice, because you see so many things from up in the cab that aren't always accessible on the ground

last week i saw two archaic and sunlit dappled pigs under some trees at burwash, and then a line of youthful oaks where a hedge had been removed to create a lovely long undulating wheat field just north-west of flimwell sloping towards the reservoir

taking the trouble to park and walk this morning was a huge disappointment, the sun kept hiding and i couldn't break through the bushes and brambles to get the perspectives i needed

so i'll be going back ... if the customers down there stay loyal !

someone ( else ) has been buying orchids for the loved one !

 

who needs lalique ?

 

peculiar ?hobby horses? suspended above a doorway to hatfield old palace great hall ...

the roof timbers in hatfield old palace ...

 

i opened the wrong door at the old palace and discovered this grand old space ...

 

i wonder what peter ackroyd thinks of scrooge's epiphany at fortnum and mason ?

 

the designers at fortnum and mason ... should be elevated to the peerage

 

tristan forward ... new boots and panties

 

scrooge at fortnum and mason, i'll have to go back with the tripod and try to take these pictures again

 

a splendid roof-top lion in the fulham road ... taken from the top deck of the number 14 bus

preening time at putney bridge

 

early rowers coming out of the mist at putney

 

the early sun catches the church clock at putney bridge

 

i was so tired and hungry that i tried to eat the mince pie before taking it from it's metal cup ... those are my teeth marks !

 

i'd cycled past the masons arms twice a day for nearly a year before i looked up at the old-fashioned sign & the medieval looking statue

One of my favourites ... by Siegfried Sassoon, yer actual Officer and Gentleman

DECEMBER STILLNESS


December stillness, teach me through your trees

That loom along the west, one with the land,

The veiled evangel of your mysteries.


While nightfall, sad and spacious, on the down

Deepens, and dusk imbues me where I stand,

With grave diminishings of green and brown,

Speak roofless Nature, your instinctive words;

And let me learn your secret from the sky,

Following a flock of steadfast journeying birds

In lone remote migration beating by.


December stillness, crossed by twilight roads,

Teach me to travel far and bear my loads.

a misty pond above bodiam

 

sunlight and frost at newhaven fort

 

a fisherman going out from newhaven this morning

 

stroll on ...