A Mist Makes Things Wonderful

It's not been a particularly inspiring few week weather wise.  I like winter, but even I have struggled to muster any enthusiasm about the relentless damp, cold and flat white skies that have greeted me most mornings recently.  So imagine my excitement when the mist descended!  This blog title is a quote from Oscar Wilde and I couldn't agree more.

I like drama in my weather.  For example, I can cope with a little wind and rain (coming home is even more welcoming after getting rained on).  I love the blinding light and beauty of a covering of virgin snow or glittering hoar frost on the landscape.  Incidentally, check out this little video taken in between blogs after one such frost.  I've never experienced a thaw like it - shards of ice falling from the trees.

https://www.tiktok.com/@winter_peach_photography/video/7191540452401761541

As for mist, it's really what many people associate with the UK - a patchwork quilt of a miniaturised landscape covered by a blanket of visibility compromising moisture.  It exemplifies our reliably unreliable climate and adds mystery and intrigue worthy of a tale from Arthur Conan Doyle.

I'll go with the mystery theme for reasons which will become apparent.  We headed out into the mist for a 5 mile walk through an ever changing landscape, starting with a cluster of silver birch trees.  I was later thrilled that this image was selected and featured on the Instagram account Capturing Britain.

We were joined for some of the route by a very vocal Robin.  I thought he was being friendly, but knowing how territorial they can be, I suspect he was warning us to keep moving.

The gnarled branches of the naked trees contrasted beautifully with the mist pervading the atmosphere.

Further along we encountered a crop of the tallest pine trees, criss-crossed by mountain bike tracks.  Here I insisted Gareth pose.  He's still at the breaking in stage with his DMs, hence the loosened laces.

We climbed 121 steps...

....and arrived on top of a hill, spotting this rather intriguing house in the distance...

....before picking up our original route and descending a densely wooded hillside.  It was here that we encountered this once inhabited building carved into the sandstone.  It's clear that work is ongoing to make it safe for visitors.

Feeling emboldened by this, we continued.  No one knows when these caves were first inhabited, but they remained so until the 1950s when the properties were condemned by the local authority and the occupiers forced to leave.

The area just beyond looked very Hobbiton, apart from the sandstone carvings...

...and graffiti.  

We're the more respectful rule breakers.  Clearly this place is an open secret locally.  Hopefully one day it will be open to the public and afforded the protection it deserves.

Back at home, the hyacinths have flowered and the fragrance is off the charts.

I wonder if Marg smells the same?

I've made a few acquisitions, some old, some new (more on those soon).  When buying new I always focus on quality, durability and timelessness, not wishing to contribute to the ever increasing clothes mountain.  Having called into a local supermarket the other day, I was horrified at the amount of clothing on sale.  Even worse, the ridiculously crammed sale rails - even as we near the end of January.  Aren't manufacturers getting the message?  They are clearly over-producing.  There can't possibly be the demand to justify this level of production.  It's obscene. 

My "old" is probably not so old, but a black and white jacket I know I will wear and wear again.  Here, in my usual hurried selfie, I've teamed it with some black cord dungarees (old) over a black and white spotted thermal polo neck (second hand), a vintage tribal necklace and recycled cashmere gloves.  Slippers just out of shot.  Note to self:  I must really work on my outfit photos.

This weekend was the UK's Big Garden Birdwatch.  I layered up and headed out into the garden with a de-caf coffee, the camera and a notebook, for an hour's solitude.  The temperature was around 5 degrees, but the damp conditions made it feel a good deal colder.  I did smile to myself when I wondered what my 18 year old self would have thought of this decision.  She probably wouldn't have been up and available for comment.

Last year the conditions were pretty similar, but I saw very little bird activity.  This year, the garden was alive with birdsong, principally from the resident Robins.  

I also counted more birds this time, including a brief sighting of a Song Thrush and an even briefer glimpse of a bird I've been unable to identify as a result.

Blue Tit

  

Robin

House Sparrow

Male Blackbird

The remainder of my week has been dominated by a little mother/daughter trip booking, mood boards, phone calls, admin and light reflectors!  The styles for my forthcoming photo shoots are quite different from each other.  The first is very romantic and Nordic in style.  For the second, David Bowie is my muse.

In an effort to inspire and spur myself on, I'll leave you with the latter; this image and quote, firmly and metaphorically pinned to my mood board.

I'm off to watch the remainder of the truly brilliant but bizarre Everything, Everywhere, All at Once (currently free with Amazon Prime) and the penultimate episode of the gripping Happy Valley.  Until next time!

Watchful Eyes

One of last weekend's walks was also a recce for an upcoming photo shoot.  Nanny's Rock is an unrestored rock house carved into the local sandstone.  It's a magical place and one of those rare "wild" tourist attractions, in that you can climb inside it, touch it and peer through the numerous empty window remains.  

There are also five "rooms" to explore.  In the centre, is a chimney known as "devil's chimney".  The anti-Christ reference derives from the speculation and suspicion surrounding its former inhabitant, who has been described variously as a herbalist, potion maker and white witch.  With few records to go on, Nanny's Rock is also known as Meg o'Fox Hole - a possible reference to an inhabitant known as Margaret, who died in 1617 - the era of witch hunting.

Incidentally, I have just finished reading The Mercies, referenced in a recent blog.  It's a wonderful read, set in Norway, also at the time of the witch trials.  The subject matter is harrowing but the relationships between the female protagonists is exquisite and sensitively written.

Over time, countless visitors have etched their mark into Nanny's Rock, making for an intricate visual display adorning every inch of the interior sandstone walls.  

Everywhere you stand, there are eyes upon you.

With the boy starting his work experience at the Rock Houses this week, I must point out the sedimentary lines (he's a Geology student) and suggest that we should refrain from carving into sandstone.  Many of these engravings are vintage though, I'm sure...and vintage is OK in my book.

Woody's love remains a mystery, the name now illegible.  

Heading slightly further afield, we passed through a clearing dominated by spectacular beech trees...

and onto Vale Head Farm.  I have blogged about this farm before Winter Peach Photography: Pinky and Perky.  Now, there are some new pigs on the block.  Here is one blissfully happy Gloucester Old Spot saddleback pig.  Courtesy of Instagram, I am reliably informed by artist and green woodworker Harry Samuel, that this happy soul originates from his farm. 

I captured this handsome fellow just before he made his frantic, noisy departure. 

The chickens were basking in the sunlight and cock-a-hoop.

A visit to our other favourite haunt, Enville Hall, resulted in much swan admiring (on my part)...

...and a chance encounter with Jane, the Estate Gardener, who put me on the spot and commissioned a portrait of her beautiful canine companion.  The transaction was verbal and old school (she doesn't have an email address).  I am to print and deliver said portrait next week to her lodgings on the Estate.

Back at home, our daffodils and woodland bulbs are in flower and my favourite, Euphorbia, is throwing its alien shapes.

The bird bath has been teeming with visitors from Blue Tits and Long Tailed Tits....

...to Garden Sparrows...

..to Dunnocks.

The four clumps of frogspawn are growing imperceptibly under watchful amphibian eyes.

Gareth has dug out and dismantled the trampoline - the end of an era.  However, there's now another, exciting space in the garden to develop/headache in waiting.  

On a more frivolous note, the week's charity shop finds include a pair of tan suede trainers.  They're unbranded, but look spookily similar to these Puma ones.

They are extremely comfortable (I'm not going to let the trifling fact that they are a size too big get in the way) and work equally well with a long dress and jeans.  Here they are teamed with my sustainable Kharibu maxi dress teamed with an old cashmere mix cropped jumper.  Apparently the combination of green and blue is having a fashion moment.

Another photo of said shoes with my eBay shopped Replay Jeans and charity shopped white top.  Do I look like a lumberjack?

Every item completing this outfit was charity shopped.  

It comprises silver John Rocha brogues, a snakeskin print H&M pleated skit (pleats are so flattering), the aforementioned white top covered with a a silver grey Italian lambs wool lightweight knit.  In these shoes, folks will definitely see me coming.  (Only Gareth could express concern about upskirting and that others might see more than they bargained for reflected in the shoes' mirrored surface!) 

I will also be seeing more clearly this week, courtesy of my newly purchased pack of 3 pairs of cat's eye reading glasses.  I spend probably a third of my time hunting for keys, glasses, remote controls and my phone.  

The remote control issue has recently been solved with Gareth's charity shop find - a jumbo sized universal remote.

And now, with 6 pairs of reading glasses now knocking around - in various states of repair - I can now scrub reading glasses from that list.  Here I am giving the camera my best 60s espionage look.  

Be seeing you!