cold earth sleeps
underneath a flaming northern sky
the snowy trees gently weep
– dark christmas, tarja
*…images made with Nikon D850 and AF Micro Nikkor 105mm f2.8 lens*
Dark Christmas
photo101
out (again) in the midday sun
You always own the option of having no opinion.
There is never any need to get worked up or to trouble your soul about things you can’t control.
These things are not asking to be judged by you.
Leave them alone– Meditations, Marcus Aurelius
It has been a long time since I posted here actively, or at all, and I do keep promising to remedy that.
For several years these pages, and others, have sustained and inspired me through difficult times.
So, with no promises, I’m back for a moment, perhaps longer.
The images which follow were captured on a walk on Saturday, 30 September. The skies were a deep blue, the temperature was around 33C and some, who saw my related posts on Facebook, asked where I was. The answer was not Australia, or somewhere in Africa, as some reasonably surmised. No, I was a short walk away from home in the province of Salamanca, on the last day in September. The dusty red paths a testament to the reality of climate change.
There is no particular theme or message in my photos.
They are simply what caught me attention (again) on a well trodden path…
- There are, of course some (unintended) themes, notably barbed wire, and an impaled coke can which seems to have developed a life of its own.
It is good to write and shoot again.
*all images made with my fujifilm x100f and its fixed 23mm f/2 lens, minimally edited in Lightroom with Fujifilm’s luscious velvia profile*
autumnal thoughts
I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house
– Nathaniel Hawthorne, The American Notebooks
beach life
Now is no time to think of what you do not have.
Think of what you can do with that there is.
― Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea
uluru
‘the time has come to say fair’s fair
to pay the rent, to pay our share
the time has come, a fact’s a fact
it belongs to them, let’s give it back’lyrics – midnight oil, beds are burning
As at 16:00 on Friday, 25 October 2019 the right of the public to clamber over this place came to an end in recognition of the reverence in which it is held by the indigenous people of Anangu.
Australia retains a firm hold on a part of me, her spirit locked down tight, forever, deep inside.
It is impossible to be indifferent concerning this continent of colour, contrast and contradiction. Much of this beautiful, desolate land remains unexplored by many who live there.
Perhaps one of the last places on earth that holds tight some of its oldest stories.
As a Deputy Secretary in the Australian Government, I was privileged to travel across this wide brown land, exploring places almost as far away from our urban environment as it is possible to be.
Maybe I will write more about that.
Uluru is not a rock.
It is an irrepressible force of nature.
A powerful psychic force that ensnares you from the moment you first see it whether from the air or up close and personal. There is a visceral thrumming in the air. A song from the past that captures your mind, your body, your soul.
Away from the inevitable tourist traps there is no sound. Only the whispers of the ancestors.
I am happy that this place has been given back to those whispering souls.
There are too few places left in the world that move us and re-connect us to our roots, to the essence of our humanity.
Imagine also, how much a boy from the Rossendale valley felt blessed when sharing a flight and snatched conversation with Peter Garret, lead singer with Midnight Oil, and then Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts.
How do we sleep when our beds are burning?
It starts by smelling the smoke and doing something about it.
No?
Images made in November 2009 with Nikon D70 and Nikkor 18-70mm f/3.5-4.5 DX lens
on reading
It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.
― Oscar Wilde
One of the advantages of being a frequent flyer is that it gives you precious time to concentrate on reading. And yes, I like to ignore the fact that many flights now offer the ‘benefit’ of in flight wifi. I prefer (vastly) the benefit of in flight disconnection from the world of work. It is (or was) one of the last few bastions of serenity and a place to hide from all those ‘whatsapp’ groups people seem to think aid communication at work. Don’t even get me started on that last one, it could become a post in itself and lead to unintended consequences.
Reading is one of the most precious gifts that we can give our children.
I remember when I was around about six years old that one of my favourite places of refuge was the ‘box room’ in my grandmother’s house in Rawtenstall. Actually, I think the box room had in fact been a place that my father was stored in as opposed to boxes but, no matter, it was a special place for me. It contained what at that age I felt to be an impressive library of books that opened up a whole world outside the (then) grim confines of Rawtenstall. The town’s buildings in those days were blackened with soot and the river that flowed behind my school stank of goodness knows what, concerns about pollution seemed a world away, and in many ways they were. The town at that stage was suffering from post industrial decline and its place in the world – defined by the dark satanic mills that once produced shoes and cotton for the Empire – was doubtful. And that is why those books were so important to me.
high life
this seat is mine mine, for the time it takes to cross, the desert to cross, from there to here, a part, of me is no longer mine lost with all the other parts, along, the way lost by all, those others, who said this seat, is mine
castronuño
Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse
– Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
It’s been a while since I posted here, more than four months to be (almost) precise.
A lot has happened in that time.
It’s time to return, to re-engage.
So, rather than write pages and pages explaining my absence, I thought I would share some photos from a walk by the river, yesterday, in Castronuño.
A few small slices of life, under the Spanish sun.
Presented, more or less in the order that they were shot.
Be seeing you.
farewell wordpress wpc
Like many people, I suspect, I am saddened to see the unannounced demise of the WordPress weekly photo challenge. In the early days of this site the weekly prompts from the WordPress team often offered a much needed spur to action, and helped me find my voice and new inspiration.
The WordPress team, and their occasional guests, created a cherished sense of community. They will be missed.
How to choose a favourite? Not exactly Sophie’s Choice I know, but hey guys, you may be ripping out the soul from your blogging platform. Why not at least have issued some kind of warning, canvassed opinion, or even sought out those willing to carry the torch?
So, I publish again one of my first photo for this esteemed challenge, and if you’d like to see the whole set from andytownend then here you go.
And, I wonder.
See also my posts on belgradestreets, salamancastreets and belgianstreets…
andy townend 