Sunday, January 01, 2006
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Map-o-philia !
When I was about nine years old & had just learned to ride a bicycle, my clever parents bought me a cleverly illustrated book about how to read the British Ordnance Survey maps, and then they stuck the local one-inch sheet on my wall. Ever since then, I have loved maps.
I told The Loved One about this quite recently, having been spotted cruising the highways of Utah and Arizona on the internet, and hoarding downloaded maps of places we've been in the My Pictures files.
As an unforeseen consequence, my Late Christmas Present has just arrived.
It is The Map Book, edited by Peter Barber, published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson in 2005. It is big, it is glossy, it is intelligent. I am in one kind of heaven.
Isn't she lovely ? Eat your hearts out, lesser mortals !
I told The Loved One about this quite recently, having been spotted cruising the highways of Utah and Arizona on the internet, and hoarding downloaded maps of places we've been in the My Pictures files.
As an unforeseen consequence, my Late Christmas Present has just arrived.
It is The Map Book, edited by Peter Barber, published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson in 2005. It is big, it is glossy, it is intelligent. I am in one kind of heaven.
Isn't she lovely ? Eat your hearts out, lesser mortals !
Thursday, December 29, 2005
carters fun fair comes to town
we finished work early and i cycled homeward, meandering through battersea park
everyone looked stressed from the cold, my own fingers and toes were painful
even in the middle of the day it seemed dark and there were specks of snow in the air
yet carters' funfair was up and running, the lights and music creating a little heaven on earth
it is the miracle of the age, everything restored to glossy perfection and hand-painted with enormous panache
it is a national treasure, as valuable as any art gallery or museum
everyone looked stressed from the cold, my own fingers and toes were painful
even in the middle of the day it seemed dark and there were specks of snow in the air
yet carters' funfair was up and running, the lights and music creating a little heaven on earth
it is the miracle of the age, everything restored to glossy perfection and hand-painted with enormous panache
it is a national treasure, as valuable as any art gallery or museum
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
tree tops
dave okonski asked about the tree tops i photographed the other morning
i'm not sure what kind of tree they are, or if the clumps are "built" nests
looking again this afternoon, it appears that the boughs were pollarded, then whole dense bunches of new twigs sprouted, and finally all sorts of dead leaves and twigs have got caught up
they'd certainly be colonized by nesting birds, but such nests are usually devastated by predatory magpies
cheers, dave
i'm not sure what kind of tree they are, or if the clumps are "built" nests
looking again this afternoon, it appears that the boughs were pollarded, then whole dense bunches of new twigs sprouted, and finally all sorts of dead leaves and twigs have got caught up
they'd certainly be colonized by nesting birds, but such nests are usually devastated by predatory magpies
cheers, dave
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Friday, December 23, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Sunday, December 18, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
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 ?"
"have you spent your day dreaming up new ways to make me happy ?"
Friday, December 16, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
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 !
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 !
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
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