On a sunny and frosty morning, the trees and fences were decorated with perfect, dew-spangled spider webs, so I had to go outside with the ‘proper’ camera to try to capture some. It was worth the icy fingers and toes!
Everything has structure, I guess, although not always photogenic. Still, as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, photogenic must be in the eye of the photographer…
I’ve chosen one image of man-made structure, and two natural. The structure of the buds fascinated me, and the sun behind the tree highlights the structure of the branches. The old pressed glass bottles are tantalisingly displayed behind frosted glass in what was once an internal window. My Dad built shelves into one side of what used to be a sliding door and I recently added upcycled frosted glazed doors to the open side to make a shallow cupboard of sorts. I have since applied a film to the old plain glass. The plan was for more privacy while still letting in light, but I am constantly delighted by the appearance of ghostly forms through the frost.
I can never limit myself to just one photo, so being challenged to photograph something (or someone) from Every Angle suits me pretty well. It was just a matter of deciding who or what my subject would be…
It’s the last (calendar) day of winter, and spring blossom is everywhere, so I chose the plum tree behind our house, which is smothered in simple, sweetly scented white bloom, and, since the sun has been out, it is buzzing with bees as well.
I took pictures from every angle I could think of, short of climbing on the roof to take one from above. There’s even one of fallen petals under the tree – I’m just sorry you can’t smell it, because it smells of spring sunshine and warmer days to come, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a whiff of plum jam…
This week the Photography Challenge theme is “spring“, which is timely for the northern hemisphere, of course, although Lisa in the Pacific Northwest chose a completely different ‘spring’ for her post! Down here in Southern Australia, meanwhile, autumn is well under way. Because our summers are hot and dry and our winters fairly mild, this is the time of year when everything – especially weeds – spring into new growth, and gardening becomes a hands on occupation.
Getting out there pulling up weeds – very carefully, in the case of these nettles – leads to the discovery of remnants of last spring, and the heralds of the next one. I have found two old bird’s nest in the past few days.
The first was the familiar cup shape, and may belong to silver-eyes. It was hidden in a large old rambler rose. The other was close to the ground in a rosemary bush, and has a tiny, almost invisible opening – I’ve highlighted it in one pic – my index finger only just fits. The interior is lined with paperbark, the nearest tree being more than a block away from here. I suspect the nest was built by scrub wrens, which are resident in our garden, although we never see any sign of their nesting activity in spring.
For the record, here’s the P. curta in flower last spring. By the way,I let a few nettles grow, despite the stings, because they are the food plant of the Red Admiral butterfly, and I eat some myself, cooked like spinach. What Popeye would’ve eaten, if he’d known!
It was a cold, clear morning, but not frosty. Blue, blue sky and cootamundras coming into bloom, bright in the morning sunshine. The buds of the flowering peach are fattening and showing pink at the tips. As the last month of winter approaches, spring is beginning to appear. We’ve had a lot of rain – every thing is soggy and green, farmers have high hopes for their crops. The ‘Autumn Break’ held off until nearly June, but once it came, the bulbs leapt into life, pushing up leaves and buds in record time. Somehow, the jonquils have managed to flower at the usual time- except, strangely, for the Earlicheer, which hasn’t flowered at all.
Yesterday we had fog until midday, chilly and bleak. I like this sunshiny version of winter much better. I can’t imagine what it is like living through winter in the far north of the planet, in darkness night and day except for a meagre couple of hours, when the red ball of the sun creeps over the horizon, only to creep back again so soon – if it is ever visible through the clouds.