Wagtails are so named for obvious reasons, and this one was wagging its tail so enthusiastically that it’s almost disappeared from the shot. Taken with a long zoom, in fairly gloomy conditions, next to the Aire & Calder Navigation in Brighouse.
With 17 of its photos taken in Hebden Bridge, plus one a mile down the road in Mytholmroyd, and then seven more in Manchester: June 2023 has not been an eventful month. Only the trip to the Lake District got me out anywhere in particular. I could embrace the local and familiar of course, but in truth it’s pretty boring at the moment. Anyway, July will be different, at least after the first week. In the meantime, here’s Maggie’s hair, which I do think is quite cool. And I like the way this shot has come out, like it might be a pastel drawing perhaps.
Just some nicely falling light, pictured on the walk to the office in Manchester. Even without looking at the time in the heading, this can be identified as an intrinsic morning shot. I know this, because of the direction I’m walking, but you know this, because that’s a milk float: they aren’t still doing the rounds when I head back home.
“Just out for a stroll, Mum. Hanging out with the lads, at the Football Museum, y’know.”
As seen living on a dead tree in the woods over the road. For some reason I find these very sensual-looking. It’s the whole smooth, marbly skin thing, and their curviness. Perhaps I have unfulfilled needs (which may just involve having mushrooms to eat, of course).
Lately every Monday in the Railway there has been a singer on in the afternoon, starting around 4pm. This seems an endearingly pointless activity, done just for the sake of having music on at a quiet time of the week — I sure don’t see how anyone in the pub makes a great deal of extra money from this. But who cares, the guy today picked up a small and select audience who seem interested enough. I like this shot because it’s one of those that turned out exactly as intended when I pressed the shutter, and we can’t ask for much more than that.
One reason the valley of the Hebden Water is a protected environment is because it is home to many colonies of wood ants, and something to do while walking there is go anthill-spotting in the trees. I did so today, and caught sight of this monster — at around four feet high, this is probably the biggest I have ever seen in there. A teeming, writhing metropolis of the ant world, and not something to sit on or stumble into accidentally (perhaps not yet quite at the scale of the ones in Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, but they may have plans).
This statue of Wallace and Gromit stands (and sits) outside the market hall of Preston, Lancashire: the home town of creator Nick Park. This is actually Wallace’s second appearance on the blog — the first was in Bradford, nearly nine and a half years ago. But he’s still wearing those Wrong Trousers. Gromit makes his debut (as do the other two).
Another less-than-exciting week ends with a photograph of similar sort. Life is scheduled to liven up in July but in the meantime, here we still are, Hebden Bridge on a quiet Friday post-work afternoon. Going monochrome helps the interest level a little, perhaps.
Scientists down the years have discovered that compared to many other species, birds are fairly intelligent creatures, and this one was clearly intent on achieving its goal this afternoon — get into a nut, using only its beak and claws. Whether it was ultimately successful I don’t know, but it was certainly putting in the effort.
Being 42 