autumn thoughts
So, it's November. Rain has returned; light is at a premium again.
Yesterday I rediscovered the sheer pleasure of watching nature in all its forms. I knew it was going to be sunny and reasonably warm; perhaps the last such day for a while. So I took my new camera and some lenses and walked along the Grand Union Canal again. This time I started where I'd left off the previous sunny day. What did I see? Swans exercising their right to own the canal; a mallard stretching and displaying to prove he's boss (when the swans aren't around); a field of grasses waving in the wind like some forgotten harvest; sunlight on water; and people going about their business - in this case the three men who run a small boatyard welding and pumping out water and whatever it takes to renovate a canal boat. And a wooden barn-like building; perhaps a meeting place, but more likely a home with fine oak beams and doors onto the terrace from every bedroom - so serene and peaceful in the November sun with the shimmering water of the canal at the bottom of the garden.
And I gave thanks that fortune has allowed me the time to walk along and take photos and be at ease.
I met a fellow photographer - also noticing the lack of brown leaves on the trees and the certainty that rain and wind will change the landscape before we get those prized photos of "fall" colours. Why is it that so many of our trees are still green? Some - like the maples outside my front door - have been turning colour and shedding leaves for the past 3 weeks - while others have held their green.
What I noticed is the difference in the mood of the conversations along the canal - when I compare it with the streets in the nearby towns. The lone traveller working his boat up the locks; the small group sitting watching a film crew in a canalside farm; the lone photographer; the rambler gently asking for directions. All these people notice the light, the warmth, the passing of seasons rather than seconds.
And maybe that's part of our legacy - the canals have long since lost their trading and transport roles, but they serve as a thread through our changing countryside. Just as the parks in London are seen as the lungs of the city; so the canals are havens of peace and timelessness and a return to nature. And you can still travel from London to Liverpool or Leeds on them; just allow the time; the window to open on our land; and see the towns as clumps of buildings just as there are clumps of trees.
So, now I have a legacy of a different kind; some 500 photos I've taken in the last month, thanks to the freedom of a digital camera. Some are great and I'll find ways of publishing them; some are not and they serve as lessons. In the last few days I've written short poems again; I was wondering if I'd lost touch with the muse - but I'm glad to say she's still here.
Simon
Yesterday I rediscovered the sheer pleasure of watching nature in all its forms. I knew it was going to be sunny and reasonably warm; perhaps the last such day for a while. So I took my new camera and some lenses and walked along the Grand Union Canal again. This time I started where I'd left off the previous sunny day. What did I see? Swans exercising their right to own the canal; a mallard stretching and displaying to prove he's boss (when the swans aren't around); a field of grasses waving in the wind like some forgotten harvest; sunlight on water; and people going about their business - in this case the three men who run a small boatyard welding and pumping out water and whatever it takes to renovate a canal boat. And a wooden barn-like building; perhaps a meeting place, but more likely a home with fine oak beams and doors onto the terrace from every bedroom - so serene and peaceful in the November sun with the shimmering water of the canal at the bottom of the garden.
And I gave thanks that fortune has allowed me the time to walk along and take photos and be at ease.
I met a fellow photographer - also noticing the lack of brown leaves on the trees and the certainty that rain and wind will change the landscape before we get those prized photos of "fall" colours. Why is it that so many of our trees are still green? Some - like the maples outside my front door - have been turning colour and shedding leaves for the past 3 weeks - while others have held their green.
What I noticed is the difference in the mood of the conversations along the canal - when I compare it with the streets in the nearby towns. The lone traveller working his boat up the locks; the small group sitting watching a film crew in a canalside farm; the lone photographer; the rambler gently asking for directions. All these people notice the light, the warmth, the passing of seasons rather than seconds.
And maybe that's part of our legacy - the canals have long since lost their trading and transport roles, but they serve as a thread through our changing countryside. Just as the parks in London are seen as the lungs of the city; so the canals are havens of peace and timelessness and a return to nature. And you can still travel from London to Liverpool or Leeds on them; just allow the time; the window to open on our land; and see the towns as clumps of buildings just as there are clumps of trees.
So, now I have a legacy of a different kind; some 500 photos I've taken in the last month, thanks to the freedom of a digital camera. Some are great and I'll find ways of publishing them; some are not and they serve as lessons. In the last few days I've written short poems again; I was wondering if I'd lost touch with the muse - but I'm glad to say she's still here.
Simon
posted by Simon | 10:48 am
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