photography – Page 2

Fair shines the day

There is an easy walk I’m very fond of from Elterwater to Skelwith Bridge…..and finally to a very nice café with retail therapy opportunity for the very long of pocket.

So as I was saying, my Dearest and I had come to the conclusion that if we were to get any fun out of the coming weekend we had to put fun first. It was going to be sunny on Saturday and Sunday , but then pour with rain all day Monday, (typical Whitsuntide Bank Holiday then!), and probably Tuesday as well since I’d booked a day’s leave to take my Dad to a hospital appointment.

Saturday was to be fun day. I called my sister and planned to take her with us but she had better things to do, which is OK. Getting My Dearest out of bed, dressed, medicated and ablutions performed before lunchtime is always a challenge at the weekend, so we set off for the Lake District by 12.00, picnic packed and fuel tank filled. We took my little precious, my Mazda MX5, top down, hats firmly attached to heads and, in my case at least, sun block applied.

Free parking for National Trust members,that's lucky — Free parking for National Trust members,that’s lucky

There is an easy walk I’m very fond of from Elterwater to Skelwith Bridge, it’s not more than 2 and a half miles and flat most of the way and yet it passes from Lakeland village to babbling brook and marshy ground, from ancient Beech wood, to open meadows full of wild flowers and sheep, a Lake with distant views of the Langdales, and then more Beech wood with cascading waterfalls, and finally to a very nice café with retail therapy opportunity for the very long of pocket.

Typical Lakeland farmhouse in Elterwater

I poked round in the shop, admiring the pretty things I had neither wherewithal nor intention to buy, while my Dearest considered whether there was anything on the menu he might eat, there rarely is in these expensive and rarefied places, he won’t eat anything he can’t pronounce.

Then we wandered down to the bridge itself, sat on a slate bench under a majestic mature Beech tree whose leaves were all newly opened and as perfect as they could be, and unpacked our picnic.

Then walked back the way we had come, there are other walks which can be taken from Skelwith Bridge, and perhaps next time we’ll trek back another way but I wanted more time in that Bluebell wood, and to enjoy the wild flowers en route.

We called in at Ambleside on our way home for coffee, I scored two more 100% cotton checked shirts in the Oxfam charity shop, £2 each, bargain. We returned home tired and someone a little sun burned, but having had a Day Out.

All we need is a cunning plan

I wanted to stand ankle deep in bluebells in a sun dappled wood

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This winter I have been feeling dissatisfied with life. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why but it had something to do with feeling the dullness of all work and no play. Working full time as I do weekends are precious but the pressure to squeeze some “me time” out of the weekend has caused me to be fraught with competing pressures of laundry and shopping, cleaning and visiting family and friends; all winter I have been dashing about filling every weekend with “things that must be done” rather than doing what I wanted to do, even quilting had become a “must do”, working to an exhibition deadline.
So last weekend as Sunday evening darkened and I was driving home from another journey made for someone else’s benefit, I determined that I needed to develop a cunning plan which would allow me time to do something I had been yearning to do; walk in a wood carpeted with native Bluebells (Hyacinthoides nonscripta) while they are still flowering, admittedly rather late this year. As I have been driving about for work I have passed many a little glade by the roadside and seen a blue mist above the undergrowth and caught a faint whiff of that wonderful scent, which indicated Bluebells were flowering there; I wanted to stand ankle deep in bluebells in a sun dappled wood. Saturday is usually my shopping day, but not this weekend, the forecast indicated that the sun would shine on Saturday and I planned to be in a Bluebell wood.

Wray Scarecrow Festival

What a beautiful day we had today the sun shone, but better than that the air was warm, no arctic breeze blowing in from Scandinavia to spoil the fun. The morning began with a quick mission to the nearest shop, the 13 year old is cooking at school tomorrow and generally asks me to come up with the ingredients the night before about two hours after the local shops have shut. Today even though it is a bank holiday I’m ahead of him so Fajitas will be made tomorrow…. they may not get eaten but at least I’ve done my bit.

Then my beloved and I set off to Wray to see the scarecrows, we hit a queue of traffic 3 miles from Wray all going our way but for once we didn’t mind, it was too nice a day and we were happy just to be out in my precious, with the top down, and the smell of spring in the air.

The hedgerows are bursting out everywhere bright green hawthorn leaves, frothy cream blackthorn flowers on bare black stems, and field maple leaves which begin a pinky red before turning green as they mature.

blackthorn blossom, will be followed in the autumn by Sloes

Ahead of us in the queue was a brand new Bentley continental GT, sleek black , cream interior, I’m not often envious of what other people have but …sometimes… I think it would be nice to have beautiful things… but then they are only things.

We parked in a farmer’s field , £1.50 for all day, bargain! The smell of grass crushed by tyres and many feet, so redolent of spring. As we walked up the field towards the fair my mobile phone rang, Mum calling to say Dad was home from hospital, and relieved to be home, and I was able to stop worrying about how we would get him in the car to bring him home if he was still on hip precautions.

The scarecrows were better than ever this year, the theme I think was books or favourite stories, this one made me smile.

May Day Bank Holiday Monday is not the best day to choose to visit the Scarecrow Festival, It’s Fair day so there were thousands of families many with small children wandering about this tiny village. The one thing My Dearest cannot abide is jostling crowds with whining children underfoot. As the scarecrow from the wizard of OZ would say, if I only had a brain I would have had more sense than take him there, from the moment we arrived I knew he needed to leave..

The Scarecrow Festival is celebrated every year over the week before and culminating with a Fair on the May day Bank Holiday, a theme is chosen, and individual households in the village make their own s are crows and display them in their gardens or at their doors where they can be seen by passers by. Prizes are awarded

There be giants too, and dragonslayers. Great constructions made to be carried about the streets by someone who stands inside the construction to make it appear a living thing, walking amongst us,

each made to represent a mythic person, St George, the Green Man, or the Sun perhaps?

An unexpected weekend break for Dad

a visit from two lovely young female paramedics carrying a bottle of Entanox, and a stretcher,

Yesterday I planned to go to The Scarecrow Festival at Wray, an annual event with a fair which takes place in a little village in the Lune Valley a few miles North of us. The sun was forecast to shine late afternoon so on our way there we stopped by to see my Mum and Dad.

Mum and Dad with my sister Amanda in Williamson Park 1958

Dad had a hip replacement 20 years ago and sometimes it pops out, he generally manages to pop it back in but not this time… so his afternoon included a painful and worrying time while we considered what to do, a 999 call, a visit from two lovely young female paramedics carrying a bottle of Entanox and a stretcher, a ride in an ambulance, a lengthy wait in A&E, an X-ray, a general anaesthetic, his hip relocated where it should be and a weekend break he hadn’t planned in the local hospital. My poor old Dad.

My Beloved and I then went for a walk in the sunshine, but only in the local park, Williamson Park; built and given to the citizens of Lancaster by a local Philanthropic Mill owner, it was laid out in the 1860’s to make work for the mill workers laid off due to the cotton famine during the American Civil War, an early form of poor relief.

It stands high above the city and can be seen for miles, particularly the Williamson Memorial; a folly built by James Williamson, son of the philanthropist, in memory of his second wife Jessie, I believe the third wife spent her entire married life trying to get him to tear it down. Thank goodness she didn’t succeed.

Spring has finally sprung

was excited to see evidence of Spring bursting out all over. Thank the Lord.

Spring has finally sprung, and the first warm Saturday morning we have been blessed with I spent indoors helping to steward our quilt show.

The daffodils are finally blooming so late in April but it’s still a joy to see them at last, and the hedges are all about to burst into life.

My lap quilt was finished in time, thankfully, and was hung at the exhibition. I got some positive comments from visitors, but tried not to hang about near it, you don’t always want to hear what folks have to say.
There were some wonderful quilts on show, we are fortunate to have some very skilled needlewomen amongst our number and they produce the most covetable and imaginative designs.

I have many photographs, but cannot post them without the owner’s permission, so will make do with a photo of the group quilt made as the main raffle prize, there’s still time to buy a ticket if you can get to Bilsborrow Village hall before 3 pm on 21st April.

There’s even chance to buy fabric if you have been inspired to quilt. One of our members has her own quilting shop in Longridge, and is one of the traders at our Exhibition. She has an excellent range of fabrics, threads and quilting supplies; offers workshops, and a long arm quilting service.
See www.quiltersquarters.co.uk or follow on Facebook.

On returning home I took a turn round my back garden, and was excited to see evidence of Spring bursting out all over. Thank the Lord.

Elegy to a Country Churchyard

Charlotte Bronte would not have looked out of place wandering amongst the gravestones outside this grand old dame with her tiny medieval doorways and leaning walls

Having planned to go out on Sunday with our cameras, we took the 16 year old to Churchtown an ancient village nearby, mainly because although the sun shone and the day was mild and dry, there is still little evidence of spring to brighten the day and gladden the heart.

I do enjoy wandering about a country churchyard occasionally, this one made me think of Victorian lady novelists, Charlotte Bronte would not have looked out of place wandering amongst the gravestones outside this grand old dame with her tiny medieval doorways and leaning walls.

The crocuses are just blooming and still picture perfect.
We walked down the high street and found a house, old and uncared for almost derelict, how I would love to get my hands on that when it finally comes up for sale, what a development project, how beautifully and sympathetically I would love it back to life. Sadly I won’t have the wherewithal, no doubt some property developer will buy it and “modernise” the heart out of it, and sell it on for a King’s ransom. Such is life. Beside it we found a strange thing, an old red phone box, of the type which generally no longer exists in villages. This one is a free to use phone, not economical to run as a pay phone, the phone company BT have simply left it operational but no longer empty the coin box, so allow it to be used, Gratis!

Opposite is this picturesque post box set in the brick garden wall of the house which in turn faces the Old Post Office now a private house, it still has its Victorian shop front.

This tiny village boasts two public houses one a famous gastro pub, The Punchbowl, I haven’t been inside for 30 years but remember very clearly being accidentally squirted in the eye with a lemon by my friend, ouch! The other pub has lain empty for some time now, so I was really pleased to see it reopened and spruced up, perhaps I’ll take the old folks for lunch, on the way to the Quilt Exhibition in a couple of weeks time.

We came across a delightful young couple, who were working on a little mini car, they were renovating it meticulously, the interior was all new leather, the body work resprayed, and they were polishing the chrome fittings the grill and headlights. They looked so young; the car they were working on must have been older than both of their ages, combined. I hope they enjoy having such a great little car.

A Spring day on the edge of never ending Winter.

He missed a wonderful view of a snow capped Ingleborough in the distance.

Here we are in the last days of March, Easter has arrived but spring is yet to be sprung. The sun was finally shining and the temperature mild so My Dearest and I went for a walk this afternoon. I took him to see the Aqueduct, a beautiful late 18th Century stone built bridge which carries the Lancaster Canal over the River Lune.

Opened in 1797 it has recently been refurbished as part of a scheme to reopen the river path which was once known as Ladies Walk, but has become unloved and surrounded by industry. New paths have been built and undergrowth cut back to allow walkers and Cyclists a better view of the river.

We walked from the Aqueduct to the Viaduct, which carries the motorway over the River. What a striking difference we were faced with, from the beauty and elegance of 18th century engineering, to the rough brutalism of the mid 20th century.

I can’t help thinking what a pity it is that beauty is less often a consideration when designing our built environment. Did no-one think “this bridge will stand for centuries let’s make it something to admire”? They did in the 18th century. But then in the 18th century the built environment was built by educated men of wealth (well that which still stands was) who wanted to make their mark and be proud of it.

We were disappointed to find very little evidence that spring is here, no fresh green leaves no spring flowers only a lonely group of colts foot pushing through the debris of last Autumn, and a solitary group of snow drops amongst the briars.

I climbed the banking from the Riverside up to the canal path with my Dearest,however he doesn’t do heights, when he saw how high it was he went back down while I walked the canal path.

He missed a wonderful view of a snow capped Ingleborough in the distance. I wish I had a better lens on my camera to capture that scene, but then my camera is heavy enough, any heavier and I wouldn’t carry it, and then none of these pictures would have been captured, there has to be a balance in life.

In the car park we found an image on the railings, it’s a copy of a work by a local Artist Chas Jacobs I have a number of prints of his work, I love the bright colours and naive images of familiar local landmarks. this one has the aqueduct in the foreground and Ingleborough in the background.

http://www.chasjacobs.co.uk

Let’s twist again like we did last Summer

it’s never a good idea to use bias cut fabric , bias cut edge to bias cut edge if you can avoid it, but if you cut same size squares on straight grain, and
join then alternately bias cut edge to straight grain edge, you can produce a string of coloured squares to use as a border,

These two quilts are another mother and daughter effort, the first is mine using my favourite bright colours, with black. The second is my mother’s, rich colours which tone beautifully together.

The block is known as Twister, it looks rather complicated, and whilst it does take some planning and a large workspace is helpful it is actually fairly simple to achieve.
First task is to cut out squares and put them together in a grid bearing in mind that each square will tessellate with its neighbouring squares in the finished article, so each square should be sufficiently different from its neighbour to give the definition you want.

Once you have a grid maybe 20 percent larger than the finished article you plan, you take your scissors to it cutting it up using a template guide. At first it may seem that there is a profligate waste of fabric as you do cut to waste. A large bias square is cut from the centre of each square, I set these aside to use in the border. As each new square is cut diagonally from the fabric with the intersection of the squares as the centre of the new squares you cut, you should then rotate the square 90 degrees and set it back next to its neighbour. You will find they begin to tessellate; now you see why you need to have a large workspace, because you need to set out the entire quilt top, each piece placed by its neighbour, to get the placing correct.

You will have a collection of little bias cut squares left over, now it’s never a good idea to use bias cut fabric , bias cut edge to bias cut edge if you can avoid it,because both edges will stretch. If you cut the same size squares on straight grain, and join them alternately bias cut edge to straight grain edge, you can produce a string of coloured squares to use as a border, it will still stretch a little if you are not careful, but at least there will be no waste. I cannot bear waste.

The first quilt I made in this pattern I can’t find a photo of, probably because it was photographed long before I discovered digital photography, in fact it may have been made before digital photography existed.( Do you know how old that makes me feel?) It was a cot quilt made for a friend at the birth of her daughter, and was in pretty pinks and blues and on a very small scale, hand quilted in circles.

On the subject of being lucky

With a heavy heart I reached for the secret yellow stash, cut a couple of apple cores and threw them into the mix… presto! The whole thing started to come together.

Going back to the Sizzix Big shot, I have now solved my little dilemma, and indeed the dreaded yellow was the answer. I had spent a few nights trying to think how I might avoid using the dreaded yellow and came up with an idea that a lime or apple green might work but on looking again at what was already cut I found I had already introduced a pale apple green, so that would not work. With a heavy heart I reached for the secret yellow stash, cut a couple of apple cores and threw them into the mix… presto! The whole thing started to come together.

Then I went to my stash for a royal blue for the border but again…. it just wasn’t working, so off to the fabric shop I went,…..lavender blue? no, Airforce blue? no, Navy blue? no…..what about turquoise? Turquoise it is! I may even bind it in yellow too, but I’ve got time to ponder that while I do the quilting.
So next dilemma… how to quilt, and what to back it with?

Lovely weekend in Lancaster

Lancaster is technically still a Port even though the river silted up over a century ago, the lovely 18th century Quay side with its bonded warehouses and handsome Georgian Customs House has not seen a ship since the days of sail.

(16.02.2013) Saturday arrived bathed in sunshine, after a cold wet winter it was a God given day of clear blue sky and crystal clear air that gave a hope of spring. After an early appointment at the hairdresser’s to get my grey as a Badger roots covered, my Dearest and I drove to Morecambe, a nearby seaside Town so that we could walk on the promenade in the sunshine. Typical then that as we arrived hazy cloud appeared and the sun struggled a little but continued to do it’s best to warm the day.

We came across this sad old dinghy filled with rainwater and beach pebbles to prevent it blowing away in the winter storms, and wondered how long it had sat there disused and forgotten, filled with water rather than bobbing about on it. The LR on the side of the boat indicates that the boat or more likely the larger boat, for which this was the tender, is registered by the Port of Lancaster authorities.

The Port of Lancaster is now situated further down the river estuary at a tiny village called Glasson, Glasson Dock used to have a dry dock for ship repairs, which was filled in and built over in the late 60’s, I can just about remember it.

The dock itself is tidal, and has great tidal gates which are opened only when the tide is high to let vessels in or out, and then closed to hold the water in the dock as the tide drops. At the landward side of the dock is another lock gate which allows smaller vessels into the marina and from there by another lock gate onto a spur of the Lancaster canal.

Sunday dawned another beautiful sunny day, cold but bright, we went with the 16 year old to Glasson Dock in hope of the opportunity to take some photographs, but there was little that captured our eyes or imagination, and the warm fireside beckoned.
Today was another day like Saturday, mild, sunny not a breath of wind, three days sunshine in a row, in February, how lucky is that? So this time we walked the river path on an old railway track long since decommissioned from Conder Green to Stodday and back, the route shared with cyclists, dog walkers and Mums with young children on foot, bike and scooter, just enjoying unseasonable sunshine.

From the river path we could see Glasson Dock on the horizon. My lovely day was marred by nagging worries about things I needed to achieve at work, which were not being progressed in my absence, how silly!
Note to self, stop worrying about all the things which are not getting done, and enjoy the thing you are doing.

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