Unfamiliar Flowers

We celebrate with flowers, we console with flowers. We show our love with them and we decorate with them. The bloody things are everywhere! And that is a good thing.

They are also everywhere on photography and social sites.

Sadly, most photos of flowers are, well, kinda boring. They would fit well in a flower catalogue or botanical library, but they are rarely anything more than that.

Photography is about being more then that.

In an almost certainly vain attempt at putting this to rights, I’ve been at the old photoshop again.

Sorry Guys.

Whilst wandering the fields around our new home to be, our resident cuisiniste had what appeared to be a neurological attack of some sort. He had in fact spotted some wild orchids at some considerable distance. It turns out that our future land is home to a variety of orchids, some quite rare and protected.

Hopefully that means a ban on me mowing the grass.

Meanwhile, back at the old homestead, the garden is going nuts with flowers of all shapes and sizes.

Even in town, the colours are eye candy.

All this is great for lifting the spirit at times of dire despair and mild discomfort.

Of course, back in normal land, it is not just flowers that are blooming. Weeds are growing and reproducing at a rate of knots…

This one I call the ‘Van dear Graaff Seed Generator’…

More flowery grunge here

Hugs and flowers

Phil

A Better Day

After the trauma of the last few weeks, we thought that a day near Perpignan would be good respite for the four of us; myself and the three stooges girls, Annick, Ruth & Lisa.

Perpignan itself was nothing to write home about, so I won’t.

After a lunch of errors, we headed off, on the advice of our somewhat hopeless waiter, to Collioure, a harbour village nearer to Spain.

The overcast sky and constant wind kept Ruth from flinging herself naked into the Mediterranean calm. Fortunately this huge disappointment was offset by a colourful and charming village and, er, ice cream which we all flung ourselves into, albeit not naked…

The cool weather did not appear to put off the hoards. I cringe at the thought of mingling with the likely summer crowds…

The harbour was both attractive and relaxing, giving us the opportunity to forget, momentarily, life’s travails, one of which is the creeping usage of French into the English language…

Altogether a good day, a better day, although the distance driven was a little hard on Annick, as my driving abilities are still somewhat questionable, awaiting my healing foot.

Next week we are off to the hills again for a few days, so hold your breathe for some more photos of trees and stuff.

Phil

Farewell for a Fighter Epilogue: Lisa sings

Jon on Guitar

Farewell to a Fighter

My father-in-law has spent his life fighting.

For most of his long life, he fought for the Salvation Army achieving high status and great respect. For the last 10 years he fought against the inevitable. Last night, after an unbelievably long struggle, after a final feeble wave of his hand, he lost that battle.

 

He was a man that I respect. He was a fighter.

He will be there in our memories.

Phil

Photo-Impressionism

This is for those of you who hate photoshopped photos…

Certain amongst you have offered stoning as a cure for my attempts to fiddle with photos. My previous excuse was that I was attempting to bring bland photos back to reality.

This was, of course, simply the early signs of an addiction. An addiction that has now led me to view the world in this same distorted way.

I now see in Cézanne, 

I work in a study designed by Van Gogh,

and after a few drinks, I relax in Renoir,

I now realise that I should have heeded those warnings.

So stone me.

Phil

PS - here’s a few more … gulp …

Photo-Impressions

Limbo

The long drawn out saga of Annick’s Dad’s farewell to planet earth continues at its normal pace; that would be excruciatingly slowly then….

Harrowing and wholly frustrating might be other words to use. Horrible for Papa, and nearly equally so for Maman.

Two days ago, once again Papa was on the very edge of the abyss, with the Grim Reaper solemnly staring down at him awaiting his duty, then yesterday, he was attempting to talk again. The doctors there seem impervious to Death’s stare, and are saying that they will operate next week to place a gastric feeding tube. I’m not utterly convinced that they have examined him or are even talking about the same person…

We managed a days respite in the Pyrénées, something always worth a photo or two.

It’s been a couple of weeks since we visited the old homestead…

This was my last opportunity for two weeks to take the dogs for a walk due to being once again horizontal. This time only for the removal of plate and screws so no need for sympathy guys.

OK. let it flow…

Well, you gotta love those dawgs. leaping crevices, chasing wild animals, rambling through forest, rolling in shit…

Mostly the latter.

Sky is still indecisive about frog spawn though. 

Well, it was one day well spent to recharge our batteries before our journey back into limbo…

… and so, in search of something useful to do in a recumbent position, I’m off to watch the entire Lord of the Rings / Hobbit series of films back to back. Or maybe I’ll get back to writing that book. Whad’ya think? Answers on a postcard…

The Colour of Spring

Well, riding high on the back of my last successful blog (joke) I’m in the mood for another song title. 

Unfortunately, the mood ain’t to good, what with Annick’s dad an’ all. One day hovering on the very edge of death itself, the next questioning our sanity at thinking him unwell. Yesterday he could not speak nor lift his hand nor open his eyes. I’m fully expecting him to be dancing around the room today.

Never a better time to listen to Mark Hollis and my favourite song of his, ‘The Colour of Spring’. This may not be to everyones taste (the music company producing the album said he must be nuts) but to me, it is utterly beautiful. Maybe the quietest, slowest music ever made.

The other thing to do at times like this, is to take the dogs for a walk. And why not? The countryside around here is bursting into colour.

Ooh, what an amazing coincidence.

The orchard’s flowers are just opening.

The weather changes daily, sometimes rain, sometimes peaceful morning sun…

and occasionally, that rare mix of the two:

That one I had seconds to capture. You don’t see that every day of the week.

Strange and stressful times. I’ll leave you with the words of Mark Hollis, one of very few musicians to give up a very successful music career, to spend time with his family. “I choose for my family. Maybe others are capable of doing it, but I can’t go on tour and be a good dad at the same time.”

“The Colour of Spring"

“Forget our fate”, the pedlar sings.
Set up to sell my soul, 
I’ve lived a life for wealth to bring.
And yet I’ll gaze at
The colour of spring,
Immerse in that one moment, 
Left in love with everything,
Soar the bridges that I burnt before,
One song among us all…