A single deer stands
Posing, alone in the woods.
Who needs company?
Morning walks in Wollaton Park often bring atmospheric results, and deer in unexpected places. I have yet to see deer in the lake, which they take to quite frequently, but it is always a delight to tuen corner to find a solitary stag hiding in plain sight.
Deep in the shadows
Wary angels fear to tread.
Ghouls and spooks hiding.
Hopefully not too late for Halloween, I resisted the temptation to add in ghosts and bats.
Ascend or descend?
A spiral of confusion.
Choose your point of view.
I am not sure what it is, but I do know where it is. But I am really pleased that I have discovered that photo haiku is a real thing, not just somethnig I decided to do because I am useless at long poems. It is recognised in Japan, and has a name – Shahai. There is even a UK society for it, and competitions.
However, I remain a non-club person, so I won’t be joining, though I might check it out to see what I should be doing.
Who knew?
That doesn’t look real!
Of course it isn’t you fool,
Just playing around.
Normally I don’t do much in Photoshop, and do basic edits and masking in Lightroom. But every now and then… Back to ‘normal’ photos next time.
Digital nomads.
Slowing the pace and breathing,
Life on the canal.
One of our favourite places for a walk – Trent Lock near Nottingham. A junction of one canal and two rivers and, more importantly, two pubs and a tearoom. Nice flat walking in several directions, and always something to see.
Although I look calm
I’m wilder than I might seem.
So keep your distance.
This is the tail end of the rutting season, a time when the deer are particularly aggressive. But just because they are in an enclosed parkland at Wollaton Park in Nottingham, some people seem to think they are tame pets.
Kept safe on the sand,
The low tide and mooring lines
Keep her from drifting.
Hopefully you are comfortable with the pronoun. She identifies both as a boat and a female, which is why most boats have female names. Except this one, which is a fishing boat and therefore has initial letters to identify the home port followed by a number.
But the real question is what came first? The boat or the mooring as the main point of interest. It was the rusty mooring loop. Now you know.
One man and his board
Waiting for the perfect wave,
Staring out to sea.
On Bude beach in Cornwall, he just stood there for minutes on end, either waiting for a wave (like the ones directly in front of him?) or possibly realising that October in England was a little chilly. Either way it made a decent almost-minimalist shot.
Silently watching
Over wild Atlantic swells.
This dog is my rock.
Or maybe, ‘this rock is my dog’. I spotted this when walking back from Hawker’s Hut and I saw a dog, complete with ear. Since then I have googled and I cannot find any mention of it as a dog rock, or lion rock. I can’t be the only one to have noticed? Or maybe my googling skills are lacking. Actually, it could be that flying lion thing from Neverending Story. Anyway, whatever, it is today’s post.
Drugs and poetry,
The parson’s opium den.
Tucked against the cliff.
One of my problems is I don’t always think things through properly, and end up having to publish two posts in a day to clarify things. So my last post may have been confusing. Is that a bad thing? Well welcome to my world of perpetual bewilderment… So to give context to my last post – this is the full Hawker’s Hut. Named after a local parson, Robert Stephen Hawker(1803 – 1875),who built it from driftwood and timber retrieved from shipwrecks, with a turf roof. Still remarkably preserved, and owned by the National Trust. Hawker used the hut as a bolt hole, with beautiful views over the Atlantic Ocean, where he would write poetry and smoke opium.
Now the previous post makes sense?
