There's No Place Like Home

This Christmas has felt different somehow.  The years seem to roll seamlessly and speedily; one into another.  Perhaps that's the reason why this year, I didn't feel particularly festive...last year's still being fresh in my memory.  That's not to say I was in a melancholy or "down with Christmas" frame of mind; I just didn't feel that frisson of magic in the air.

With rain and wind dominating the forecast, our Christmas has been a quiet family affair, bookended by walks. 

We're all aware of the phrase "when life imitates art."  Well this festive period has certainly played its part.  The title of this blog no doubt gives the game away, but first rewinding to Christmas Eve and our first notable excursion, we headed into the Wyre forest in neighbouring Worcestershire, for an unseasonably warm walk.

The forest floor was saturated after heavy rain, but the waterlogged land beautifully reflected the mid afternoon sun.

We visited the creepy cabin built by the Cadbury family and still in use today, although, as you can see from the metal shutters (which are padlocked to boot), we and other members of the riff raff are only permitted to enjoy the view from the veranda.  Fine by me!  I do always think of Dorothy's Kansas home when I see this cabin.  

Oaks are amongst the last to shed their leaves in winter and contributed to the landscape's distinctly orange hue.

I loved these tree branches reaching for the dying light.

I added a copper infusion to this trippy forest photo.

The Wyre Forest is a very special place, but there's no place like home, as Dorothy would say.  I'm not sure I necessarily subscribe to this, but, nonetheless, the weather gods conspired to keep us there for the festive period.  

I cut some holly from the garden (only a little so as not to deprive the birds of berries or the woodland spirits of refuge before the trees regain their leaves)...

...and we lived by candlelight.

Gareth and I never go crazy with gifts at Christmas (kind thoughts and treats shouldn't be reserved for just one or two days of the year) and this year was no exception.  But, I am in love with my vintage Jaeger coat...here's a glimpse..

...and total bargain Monet print which now adorns the hallway.  I love its shabby frame and I'm sure it was destined for the skip had Gareth not rescued it on my behalf.

So, as usual, we lit the Christmas pudding...

...and watched some old classics on TV - me through a crystal ball like the Wicked Witch of the West.

The Christmas Day showing of The Wizard of Oz turned out to be somewhat prophetic as Storm Gerrit delivered a hooley shortly afterwards, including a mini tornado which descended on Manchester.

We spent the time well - reading, cooking, listening to music and enjoying some other old classics, including Hitchcock's Suspicion and Witness for the Prosecution, as well as House of Gucci, Saltburn (surely the most bizarre ending to a film in recent years?) and my old favourite and Christmas staple, A Christmassy Ted, the Father Ted Christmas special which sees the priests trying to escape from a department store women's lingerie department in true war film style.

In other news, the houseplants have been re-potted and are looking appreciative and the hyacinths have bloomed.  I'm almost certain their scent has reached you by now!

After the storm and pudding had settled, we headed back outside, blinking like moles after days of darkness, being sure to take in some hills and fill our lungs with clean air.  Here's our favourite Sheepwalks tree and glimpses of a rainbow sky.  

I never bother with New Year's resolutions, so I've started early on my recent pledge to use my Nordic walking poles more often.  I have too often forsaken them for walks with my camera this past year, but am determined to get myself more organised and designate days for photo walks and days for Nordic walks.  

The evidence is clear that Nordic walking increases calorie burn by 20%, boosts heart health and upper body strength.  Having been forced to lay off forms of exercise I used to love thanks to a particularly symptomatic back problem, including yoga, swimming and running, Nordic walking really seems to suit me and even gives me that "runner's high" release of endorphins.  Judging by my aching muscles (in all the right places) this morning, I'm already experiencing the benefits.

We've made up for lost time over the last couple of days and racked up a fair few miles.  However, I did pause briefly to take some video clips for you, which I've knitted together in a little homage to our Christmas Day viewing.  Please forgive the ending.  When I find a way to fade out the music, my conclusions won't be so jarring.

Brace yourselves!  Here comes 2024!

Betwixtmas Walk and Rainbow (youtube.com)

Slow Travel

This week has been eventful for a mixture of reasons; some good, some bad.

Let's get the bad stuff out of the way first.  My car was written off  (not my fault).  A neighbour reversing off her drive inadvertently put her foot on the accelerator instead of the clutch! 

In other news, our Gunnera Manicata is no more.  After many years of spectacular service (ignoring the environment-bothering tonnes of water), it's been  a bit lacklustre for the last couple of seasons and now, sadly, there are no signs of life - as evidenced by this photograph taken by Gareth.  Forgive the poor photograph and dreadful composition.  It was not my doing!

RIP Gunnera 

Positives?  I've acquired some batteries for our 1980s-never-been-used-by-us Pentax ME Super and am going to try shooting on manual with an analogue camera next week.  Why not?  I'm interested to see the results.  Film photography has a unique quality, very different from digital.  If I achieve any usable images from a couple of rolls of film, I will be relieved and very happy.  I'll feel I've earned my stripes!  (Actually, stripes would be most unwelcome.  A little grain is fine).

I've also been working at the Black Country Museum for a few days this week, which is always immensely interesting.  It's an open air museum and is recognised the world over by Peaky Blinders fans, although it is so much more than that.  It's a special place (not to mention a TikTok sensation), bringing to life the history of one of the first industrialised landscapes with a talented workforce and a team of dedicated volunteers.  If you're in these parts, you really should visit.  Fingers crossed for a May 17th re-opening!

My work pattern has afforded me little time for photography this week, so I've been trying to think what to include in this blog post.  But a chance conversation sparked a train of thought.  So think of this blog as effectively a photographic stream of consciousness.

One of my colleagues happened to mention that she is from Romany Gypsy stock.  Her grandparents' caravan was set alight when they passed.  She herself was raised on a narrowboat and enjoyed a childhood fully immersed in nature.  She recalled watching a swan teaching a cygnet to fly, which I found magical.  

So here in the Black Country, we have canals, swans and narrowboats aplenty.  

Kinver, Staffordshire

Wordsley

Stourbridge Canal

I've found that I've gained a new found interest in narrowboats.  Correction.  I've always appreciated their value; practically and aesthetically (I love their unique characters, names and designs and the associated Roses and Castles canal artwork).  

They are commonplace in and around Birmingham and the Black Country, courtesy of our extensive network of canals, so it's easy to take them for granted.  

Stourbridge Canal

The concept I have struggled with is the narrowboat holiday.  I like to set my own pace on holiday and I'm not sure how I would adapt to a constant leisurely pace being imposed upon me; the idea that walkers could overtake the only mode of transport available to me.  That said, I'm making progress in that I am now at least open to trying.  I thank lockdown for my change in attitude.  Any new experience within reason) is now fair game.  Plus, Slow Travel is now a thing.  Google it.

Kinver, Staffordshire

Incidentally, I caught this man navigating his boat through a lock at the weekend.  Hours later, his wife spotted his photo on my Instagram feed and left a lovely comment.  Small world!

Boatman

We also have visiting travellers periodically here in the Black Country, albeit less frequently these days (traditional horse pulled Vardo caravans with their stunningly intricate decorations).  Romany Gypsies have always fascinated me - from the generic image we have of female fortune tellers, to the quasi mystical "slow travel" travelling lifestyle and the fact that their lives and wagon artwork are so heavily influenced by nature.  

I lived for the best part of a decade in the village of Great Missenden, also home to Roald Dahl.  I was lucky enough to see first hand, his famous writing hut and his beloved Gypsy caravan in the garden of Gypsy House.  I've wanted a gypsy caravan ever since.

Peaky Blinders Festival, Digbeth, 2019

There is the famous "Black Patch" in Smethwick, on the outskirts of Birmingham (a thriving Romany Gypsy community back in the 1880s).  It is noted that after the death of Charlie Chaplin's widow, Oona, their daughter inherited a bureau with one drawer remaining stubbornly locked.  When it was prised open, a handwritten note from one Jack Hill, penned in the 1970s to Charlie was discovered, telling him that he had "entered the world in a caravan that belonged to the Gypsy Queen, who was my auntie.  You were born on the Black Patch in Smethwick."

Gypsy Camp, Peaky Blinders Festival, Digbeth, 2019

Digbeth 2019

So there you go...a little insight into the Black Country.  Black by name and black by nature - from industry furnaces, smoke and smog to the cut, Gypsy encampments and dark secrets.

Added to my "To Do" list now is painting a discarded horse shoe discovered on one of our lockdown walks.  There's plenty of artistic inspiration in these parts!  Given the forecast, I've also decided that it's not too late to attempt to crochet a bobble hat.  I've neglected my hooks in recent months, but the news this week that crochet may be an activity that prevents the onset of dementia appeals to a a hypochondriac like me.

What have you got planned for this icy Easter?

Another Day, Another Aesthetic: Accidentally Wes Anderson

Being part of a number of photography related social media groups, inevitably, members like to show off their skills and weekly competitions are commonplace.  Occasionally, if the theme grabs me or if I have a suitable image or I'm up for a challenge, I enter.

Last week, the Midland Photography Group set its weekly competition theme as "Experimental."  I immediately had an image in mind and after checking that the definition of "experimental," could include editing techniques (it can), I uploaded my entry.  (Some members of the photographic community can be quite pedantic and one still intimated that experimental should not include use of Photoshop, which I found a bit baffling, as everything in my composite image was photographed by me).  Semantics aside, my image won and is now in the virtual hall of fame on the group's UK Showcase page.

I mention this because winning meant that I got to choose the next theme.  Whilst many of my photographs are quite nature-centric, my tastes are actually quite eclectic.  I can enthuse about all genres of photography.  Opportunity is key to what I capture and none of us have been particularly well travelled in the last 12 months.  Accordingly, at present, I'm limited to my home environment, immediate local area and the cat.  So in a departure from the style of photographs I've been uploading of late, I opted for Minimalist photography.  In fact,  anyone who knows me or has visited our house will know that one thing I can never be accused of, it's being minimalist!

Minimalist photography is defined as being distinguished by extreme, austere simplicity.  It emphasises negative space, creating breathing room for the eyes and uses a minimum amount of components such as colour, shape, line and texture.  Here are a couple of examples from my archives.

Buoyed up by my self imposed challenge, I quite fancied capturing some appropriate architecture.  The most obvious place, which is close to home with plenty of clean lines and utilitarian buildings was Halfpenny Green Airport (now Wolverhampton Business Airport), which was built in 1941 as an aerodrome for the Royal Air Force.

It was a beautiful spring day when we visited and I was struck by the patina of the corrugated iron and the old paintwork.  Something about the washed out pastel shades stirred thoughts of the Film Director Wes Anderson's unique aesthetic...and so down the second visual aesthetic rabbit hole in a week I went!

As a film fan, I'm ashamed to say that I have only seen three of Wes Anderson's films - Lost in Translation, The Royal Tenenbaums and Fantastic Mr Fox.  However, I am an admirer of his visual style.  I follow the hashtag #accidentallywesanderson on Instagram (there's a book by the same name, celebrating the style adored by millions).

So in tribute, I've been exploring any images of mine which may have subconsciously been inspired by Wes.

This door in Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter, captured just prior to the first lockdown, is a good example of the vivid pop pastel colours he favours.

Similarly, these images, taken in the crumbling Wordsley Manor (originally built in around 1757 by Black Country Industrialists), give a nod to the aforementioned vivid colour palette and epitomise faded grandeur.

Symmetry also plays its part in Wes Anderson's style, as illustrated by this images taken on the Severn Valley Railway....

....and this one through the doors of The Grand Theatre in Wolverhampton.

I like the idiosyncrasy of this image taken in Normandy....and again, the pop pastel colours.

Coloured corridors.

Finally, this one may require some explanation depending upon how much a Wes Anderson fan you are.  For some reason a couple of years ago, I felt moved to photograph my Mom in the most ordinary of settings - a supermarket.  The colours just popped, but only now, can I also relate this to the closing scene of a Wes Anderson film.  Anyone care to hazard a guess?  My clue is:  It might fox you.

 

Have a great weekend!  I'm off for my jab!