I love broken things. I think I missed my vocation in life, I should have set up a junk yard. I can see potential uses for most things and always enjoyed the challenge of repairing something.
This old rusty gate has seen better days. It gave up the ghost of its past life a number of years ago but has been given another role – of keeping the sheep out!
I love the contrast of the rusty metal against the old stone wall with the patches of lichens to brighten it up, all set in a sea of green.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Broken.”
I could ramble about this for hours, so here’s an image to sum it up.
To date, it has been a year of waiting, wondering when change will happen.
I am waiting to move on to pastures new but the currents are at a lull and have been for quite a while.
Where I am is ok, just bobbing up and down on the gentle currents.
But I am longing for the movement of a high tide that will take me on my next adventure.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “State of Your Year.”
I am a very seasonal person. I love to flow with each season. And sleep patterns are part of it.
Although it does sometimes take a little getting used to the change of each seasonal shift. The old dormouse mentality can take most of spring to wear off. Once I have accepted it though, I can full embrace it. Bit like life in general really. But then that’s what nature is – a reflection, a reminder of life’s ever changing flow.
We are now coming into summer, but for me, I am still in the spring adjustment period. Torn between going to bed early and missing the daylight nights so I can get up early or going to bed late and risking over-sleeping and missing the freshest part of the day.
Feeling less tired in the summer, I usually plump for less sleep. I seem to be built for an energetic existence in the summer months, sleeping sufficiently to replenish the body.
When my son was at school, I would manage my summer days by going to bed really late and getting up very early. I’d catch up on some sleep by dozing during the day for an hour or so laid amongst the long grasses in the garden.
I would indulge in the sounds of the bees moving from flower to flower, the birds singing happily overhead with the odd crow flying by noticed only by the sound of its wings moving through the air. I would lose myself in the haunting sounds the wind makes as it sweeps through the grasses, the vast array of smells on the breeze and I would drink in the movement of the air currents as they gently caressed me into a blissful sleep. It really was heaven on earth.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”
This mystical Scottish Highland mountainside was stunted by the bubbling cauldron of mist. Somewhere, enveloped deep below the veil, the shoreline met the sea…
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Enveloped.”
Three pages to complete one sum to you and me.
I wasn’t that bad at maths but differentiation?… I could not make any sense of it. It took up half the school exercise book and usually ended up at least 3 pages to answer just one question.
Now if someone had told me why we would use such a confusion calculation I may have taken more interest. I have a vague recollection of someone telling me that I could use it in mechanical engineering.
But at the time, I hated it. I feared it.
The O’Level examinations were looming fast and I just couldn’t get anywhere with grasping my understanding of it.
We were regularly sitting mock tests and I was expected to pass the exam. I can remember being told not to worry about it as the previous year they had a paper on the dreaded subject so we wouldn’t be getting it again that year.
Haha. No kidding. You’ve guessed it!
We had one full paper totally on the dddreaded dddifferentiation. And guess what?
Yep. I failed!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Land of Confusion.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Those Dishes Won’t Do Themselves.”
I always leave them in the hope they will. You never know, one day …
And I don’t believe in using dish washers (well the non-people kind). I had a phone call from the local energy trust regarding saving energy. Now I am pretty sure you can’t save much more than I do. Well maybe putting a fourth layer on top of the already cumbersome three layers may help a bit, but come on, my soul is almost smothered into extinction during the winter months with 3 layers a fourth is beyond acceptable.
So we discussed all sorts of ways I use energy and the dishwasher came up for discussion. I expressed my perspective and was shot down in flames for not having one. He told me that I would save more energy and do less damage to the environment if I had a dishwasher. I told him I agreed and would insist in future in cajoling the next human through the door via the kitchen sink.
I don’t think he appreciated my humour.
I offered to be put to the test – I did not believe that if I lived to the grand old age of one hundred and washed up as often as I do that I could justify the damage to the environment caused by the mining, manufacturing, construction, transportation, maintenance, running costs and pollution.
Amazingly, he believed he had sufficient statistics to prove me wrong. It was at that point that we parted company.
Now, where was I?
I had come to believe that soapboxes were a thing of my past!
I am not a fan of housework generally, I can always think of something more interesting to do, however, my home is always clean and reasonably tidy. I really don’t like to create work for myself.
I used to loathe ironing but developed the art of buying clothes that needed less ironing and making sure I hung them up to dry, preferably outside. It’s amazing how well nature shakes and flaps the creases out of the fabric. When summer finally arrives it is impossible to avoid the iron, but I had an epiphany one day and decided that in order to enjoy a job I hated I would find a way to make it acceptable. So I selected some peaceful music to listen to, and whilst I ironed, I flattened out all the creases in my life.
I could have become carried away with enthusiasm for the task but winter returned and out came the thick jumpers again.
I simply love the complex and intricate design of this ancient harbour pier. In its days of construction (c 1600s) it must have been no mean feat to provide an effective breakwater and quay; one that could stand the test of time and the rigours of the harsh North Sea waves driven landward by severe gales in excess of storm force 9 that throughout the winter months would be a regular occurrence.
With such a need for functionality it amazes me how beautifully artistic it is. The illusion of smoothness of its form begs to be touched. The deep yellow of the lichens adding to the effect and giving the impression that the sun may be shining.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Intricate.”