Photography with an occasional poem
Life can be messy,
Weighed down by reality.
Rise free of the weeds!
This boat, in the harbour at Appledore in Wales, was clearly unused, and feeling the depression of abandonment. In my mind I saw the possibility that it would get its act together, rise up, and shrug off all the seaweed. Then when the tide came in, it would leave the harbour proud and defiant.
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.
Waves – crash all you can.
I am the storm, shrieked the wind,
Mine is the power.
It has been a week or so since I posted, as I have been away on a short break to the Devon coast. As storm Amy was coming to an end, we made an evening visit to Hartland Quay. The waves were amazing, and even though I am quite pleased with this image, I still don’t feel it does justice to the anger in the sea.
A moment captured,
A fleeting show of power
As the wave explodes.
If you have been following the blog, you may recall an image of a small boy standing and waiting, to be covered by a wave coming over the promenade. If not, go back and find it, you might find some other images you like…
This was taken on the same day, as a storm hit the east coast of England. I stayed distant and dry. Luckily.
Not twelve apostles,
I counted them all myself.
So disappointing.
A few years ago we went on a short tour of eastern Australia and New Zealand. Whilst in Melbourne it was a must to visit the Great Ocean Road and the Twelve Apostles.
Originally called the Sow and Piglets, the name was changed to try and attract more tourists. As there were only ever nine, and now seven, of the stacks and as Australia is a largely secular country that makes little sense to me. So I have entitled this post Piglets.
A still day at sea,
One red sail set against blue.
Looking calm becalmed.
Minimalist. So not a lot to say really. A single yacht taking life easy off the coast of the Scilly Isles.
Stacked up and ready,
Lobster pots eager for work.
Awaiting the boat.
The north-east coast of England is a treasure trove of harbours, islands, and castles. Seahouses is the gateway to the Farne Islands, famous for Grace Darling and puffins. The harbour is still a working port with its own charms.
Clean air and warm sun,
A walk along the tide line.
Picnic chair for one.
A slight application of background blur to this image of a family walking the beach at Filey, North Yorkshire. Only the one chair, but I am guessing that she who carries it sits on it.
When the day is done,
And the tide has receded,
Fishing boats can rest.
Dragged up on the shingle beach at Beer, in Devon. Apparently compositions work best with threes, or at least odd numbers. There were four. What could I do? Break the rules of course.
Interesting!
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