Monday, 31 August 2009

b is for...


bush bent double over boulders by prevailing winds,

bench
(but is it blue or green, there's a male/ female divide over this),

berries (and a bit of blight),

beach huts, buggy, bucket and (wind) break,

beached boat and a board,


butterflies,

bee,

ballerina, if you pushed a tiny twig through for arms above the bodice,





blooms,

(rain) bow,


breakfast bowl,

bobbins from...

brynkir - more of this with the teasels later,

bargain book,
from one of the many secondhand bookshops appearing at National Trust properties.
I remember the More Dash than Cash column in 1980s Vogue.
The cover is terrible, but some of the clothes could pass muster as 21st century fashion.

Sunday, 30 August 2009

A walk down to the windy shore


A grassy path led away from the house


bordered by a rushing stream


which carved a knife edged shallow channel


straight into the sea.


It was surprisingly hard to cross and icy cold if you slipped.





My best beach-combing find, found -
and left behind for once,
because somehow,
however beautiful the stone, shell or sea-washed glass in situ,
I've come to recognise that a slightly melancholy transformation is wrought over time
as it gathers dust in a bowl, on a shelf,
or on a window sill back home.

And perhaps I'm old enough to resist the lure of the tangible memento now.

Saturday, 29 August 2009

Hydrangea fest












Each of these hydrangea bushes
produced a sublime variety of shades
despite being adjacent to each other at Plas Newydd on Angelsey.

I had always understood that the colour was dependent on the Ph of the soil,
with blues being produced by acidic soil,
pink and purple by alkaline
and cream by neutral.
But I think something more complicated is going on here
and it has to do with the presence of aluminium ions
which can change the colour of the flower pigments.

I couldn't get enough of them.

Friday, 28 August 2009

Sunrise, sunset







Beach Farm on the Lleyn Peninsula, North Wales,
Teasing out a late summer day at both ends.
(And this being Wales I will return to the theme of teasing out in a later post)







I rarely have the luxury of watching the sun until
its final dunking below the horizon.

Driftwood fire and marshmallows.