Peacock butterfly, that is. This specimen positively batted its eyes at me, clearly it wanted its close-ups doing; but then again, with a pair of eyes like that, who wouldn’t. It seems to be a good spring for butterflies, there are plenty of them about. Maybe it’s because we humans aren’t disturbing them so much this year, but more likely is just that it’s been warm and sunny.
I may have already said this — like in Groundhog Day, there is a sense of repetition — but there are a couple of things whose value has been emphatically demonstrated during the last few weeks. Firstly that the topography of my life still provides legitimate reasons to leave the house on a regular basis. Second that there is attractive woodland just over the road that I can reasonably walk through in order to get from one part of this topography to others, which at least provides regular photo opportunities. These gnarly roots (brushed here and there by strands of gossamer) caught my eye this morning: this is the earliest shot on a day since February.
The last time I was on campus was the 8th March (and it was deserted then, although that was because it was a Sunday). Since then, all work has been done at home, and the shirts I would wear to scrub up a bit in Manchester have gone unworn. Dry cleaning is another business that I assume has been deemed ‘non-essential’ at this time.
At the moment, some pictures just need saving up for a day when there’s nothing else to show. The bluebells have been out for a few days now. Is there a flower with a more appropriate name? Beyond the fact that they don’t make a sound, it’s hard to fault it.
A couple of months ago, at least, we made an arrangement that we would visit my sister Vicki and family today for a Sunday out, let there be dinner, socialising, sunshine etc. This date got sucked into the COVID-19 black hole some time ago.
But thanks to the miracle of videoconferencing, we did our best to find a replacement. Seven family members, including myself, appear on the laptop screen at the back — Joe being the only attendee who cannot be seen. We ate well. It was fun. But it is not and never will be reality, and soon, we would like reality back please.
As lockdown (British-style) extends into its second month we find our visual pleasures where we can, including in cute toys with retro 70s appeal — militaristic, yes, but look! press a button on his back and he crawls along the carpet. Great fun for about thirty seconds or so.
Action Man’s second appearance on the blog (after one was snapped on the top of a mountain in the Lake District on 1/3/12). Neither of them mine, I will add.
I said a few days ago that when one is imprisoned, the arrival of the mail assumes a new significance. I greet the arrival of this magazine with pleasure every month, but this one is particularly poignant: it’s 32 days since there was last any football played in Britain (my last game was at Blackpool on March 14th) and who knows what state the local game will be in when all this is finally over. When Saturday Comes has been going for over three decades now, so let’s hope it survives, at least.
This sculpture speaks to me…. This is what we’re trying to do with landscape photography, isn’t it?
It is three years and a bit, or more precisely, 1,112 days, since I went to Japan and commented on that nation’s obsessive interest in cherry blossom, which they call sakura. It is certainly a sign of full spring, and so ephemeral that I wonder if the Japanese are getting their spiritual money’s worth from the sakura in this rather odd springtime. I will at least report that Hebden’s own cherry/cheery trees are in full blossom right now.
Now there really is a sense of desperation about this one: I could claim I like the abstract arrangement of shapes and colours, and that strange white covering (is it snow? No, salt, I think). But really I just wanted to get a shot from outside of Hebden Bridge today, thanks to a necessary trip to Mytholmroyd just down the road. We do what we can under the current circumstances…
Being 42 