From a deep hole going into the ground to a big thing pointing up out of it. Emley Moor’s TV antenna makes its third apperance on the blog. OK, I’ve cranked the contrasts up a bit, but after yesterday’s sunshine, different weather was definitely coming in.
Thunderstorms were coming and going all afternoon: here, we are perhaps a quarter of an hour from the next one. In response, the local rail system threw its hands up in fear and went into another one of its spasms, but I just stayed in and watched.
Orkney possibly peaked several thousand years ago, at which point in time the local inhabitants constructed a number of stone circles that still look spectacular to this day. Places of worship? Or, possibly, goals for some big game of community v community football matches? We will probably never know.
After plenty of fine days since we left home the weather for much of today was dreadful, but it did improve. The trouble with trying to capture a sunset picture in such a northerly latitude is that it always goes down so slowly, and this evening, time was a little limited and waiting much longer not really practical. But this one will do.
This is the fifth photo of one or other of the Forth bridges to appear on here, and all apart from one (17/8/2021) have been taken while moving, usually on a train though the first one was an exception, as I was a passenger in a car on that occasion. Meaning none of them have been of the rail bridge: when on a train, all you get to see of it are some close-up girders. Anyway, I am sure this is a terrible photograph in some ways but in other ways I quite like it. It looks like something ephemeral, maybe three stupendous maypoles lined up over the estuary.
I’m sure birds have just as much of a developed weather sense as do humans. Why wouldn’t they? High winds, for a start, could really screw up that trip they were planning to make to, say, the local household waste centre. These guys may or may not be trying to sort some stuff out before the latest heavy shower comes rolling in, just as we might speed up our journey home from the shops in the face of a cloud like this.
We’re still not seeing a great deal of sunshine, and so this one was chosen mainly to demonstrate how the evenings are getting lighter, even down here in the valley. A place I am about to leave for a week: when I get back we should have sun at the front of the house again. Should it deign to shine.
My first Hebden Bridge picture in one whole month. It doesn’t seem like the pigeons have changed their behaviour much since I’ve been away: still the group callisthenics, tight circles around a carefully-chosen patch of town. They look impressive enough in black-and-white. Except for the one who’s broken formation, to the lower left.
The world turns. Bearing in mind that the earliest I have seen the sun reappear at one side of our house in the mornings is around 16th February, and assuming a basic symmetry on each side of the Winter Solstice, that means it’s about to disappear for the winter, an event that is rather less noticeable. But bearing in mind the clocks are going back in a few days, quite soon even this rather wan level of sunlight isn’t going to make it over the chimneys… and we’ll see it in February. (It’s not like winter in Tromsø though, that’s true.)
‘Pioneer Village’ really is the name of this district, with the building on which the letters are sat being the Toronto Subway station of that name. But I doubt the pioneers, of whatever nation, who first explored the regions north of Lake Ontario quite anticipated their village would end up looking like this. Decent sunset, though.
Being 42 