Night comes soon…

The dark nights are always a surprise when the clocks change from BST to GMT- it was already dark when I was home from work at 5.15.

Winter feels that step closer.

Darkness is rising.

So on this All Saints Day- may some fractals of light make their home in your soul.

For the winter is long

But also

Beautiful.

the clyde, november, nightime, western ferries, dunoon

A few more pictures of autumn…

We had a lovely day today- I took a day off work and Michaela and I went a walk in the sunshine around Benmore Gardens before meeting Simon and Helen for lunch in the coffee shop.

Autumn was kind today- we did not even need coats- which is something of a contrast with the stormy weekend just past.

So, a few pics then…

kicking leaves

Spirituality and photography…

pebble ripples, reflection, loch eck

Another couple of drives around Argyll in the last few days. On Tuesday we drove to Oban to see William sing in the Mod. This is the annual festival of Gaelic language, music and culture. Will was entered in a solo unaccompanied singing competition, and did himself (and me of course) proud, finishing just three points behind the eventual winner.

Yesterday was a bad day for photography- the weather was poor, and I was too nervous to photograph William. Sometimes, it is best just to be in the moment, without the enforced detachment of a lens between you and the action.

But today, I drove to Lochgilphead on a day of Autumn mists and still reflections. I left for an early meeting, and had no time to stop, but on the way home I slowed down.

And took some photographs.

Which set me thinking about why I do it, what the practice of photography brings into my life and how it interacts with the spiritual side of who I am.

I mentally made a list-

  • It allows me to be creative, and in creating, we encounter the Creator
  • It allows me to be appreciative- of the wide vistas, but also of the tiny small things- like the catch of dew on a leaf, or the light falling on yellow sea weed at low tide
  • It makes me look deeper, and that the more I look, the more I see
  • It slows me down and forces me to be more aware of the interplay between sun and scene and settings- the where I am, and the moment I am in
  • It teaches me patience- good photographs rarely happen in a hurry
  • It teaches me discipline- the need to understand how to do something
  • But it also teaches me that despite the acquisition of skill, there is still so much room for spontaneity and the seizure of opportunity
  • And that out of 500 attempts to capture something beautiful, then you might have just one photograph that captures the essence of something…
  • The rules of composition are useful, but are always meant to be played with
  • The capturing of images is a futile pursuit unless shared

Any more suggestions? Sit down a while and think…

chair, symmetry, St Conan's Kirk, Loch Awe

Benmore and the restored Fernery

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We took a walk around the gardens at Benmore yesterday.

The colours that can be seen in the tree collections are astonishing at this time of year- and of course there is the Fernery- a recently restored folly half way up a cliff, housing a collection of rare ferns. It is such a lovely space- and makes me think of my friend Simon McGoo- he would love it.

So for his and your benefit- a few photographs…

The sanctuary of small landscapes…

edge of the woods, autumn

I woke early this morning- the old black dog is stalking me again, so sleep has become a little erratic. So I took the camera, and went for a walk.

Behind our house, there are woods. Squelch your way in there, and you are in a small pocket of wilderness- deer have squashed flat all the bracken, and the dappled forest floor is alive to all sorts of smaller creatures who live in the leaf mold. If you listen carefully you can almost hear the noise of their lives- chattering, fighting, consuming and copulating amongst the spoors of the autumn fungi.

leaf mold

And I am reminded of an old way of coping- from boyhood. The temporary exile into green spaces. To look for who I am, and to stand on the edges of the world looking in from the outside.

fallen branches

There are big landscapes hereabouts. Huge eyefuls of mountain and sea- vistas that swallow you whole and allow you to disappear.

But for now, I need the small ones. I need the nook and the hollow. I need the shadow cast by sun in trees. And the dance of the falling leaf. I need to tread carefully around mushrooms and step over the tracks left by something small and furry.

beech leaves

I am reminded of an old poem- written a few years ago, in a similar frame of mind, if in a very different season-

When I was a child
I saw as a child
Small
In the small things of landscape
Deep in the tickling grass
Held in the hollow of slow summer days
Now, like the grasshoppers
Ghosts of memory
Gone forever

But now I am grown
And the woods are no longer wild

My dragons died through education (at least for a while)
And the noise of cars on the B6139 heading for Newstead
Drove away the bears.

Instead I lift my eyes to the high places
Where horizons roll from ridge to ridge
Always higher, always further north
Crossing the high, hard won corrie
Blood pumping
Free for a while
From the baser motives-
Above it all.

Slower now
At the end of heavy days
And in good company
I look again beneath my feet
And try not to trample flowers

Michaela’s favourite view…

A gorgeous autumn day today- and I took a drive round to Lochgilphead to meet with some colleagues. Lovely.

As ever, the camera traveled with me, and I took this shot along Loch Fyne, into the afternoon sun.

It is Michaela’s favourite view, and I always struggle to do it justice, as the vistas are so broad and wide, ringed in the far distance by the hills of Kintyre.

But I am enjoying the wide angle of the standard 18-55 mm lens on my camera- partnered with a polarising filter, that teases out some extra texture from clouds and colours, given the right angle to the light. But this one was into the sun, and I kind of like it…

Hope Michaela does too.

lochfyne from strachur, 1

And with a rough nod to the ‘two thirds rule’, here is a shot with the horizon in the other place…

loch fyne from strachur 2

Stormy day on the Clyde…

We had a trip over the water today- making use of some free tickets for entry to National Trust properties that Michaela won in a competition.

A storm had rattled the old house all night, and the Clyde was still alive with it- flurries of rain, the occasional burst of autumn sunshine, and a dramatic ever changing sky…

We went down the Ayrshire coast, to Culzean Castle…

I feel a few more photographs coming on…

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