You could argue that I grew up with tortoises. Sam was my dad’s tortoise, he found him when he was a boy. When I was little, Sam lived in the garden at Nanna and Grandad’s house. Whenever he ran away (which he did, every now and then), he was always returned because his name and address were painted on his shell. He had two semi circles cut out the back of his shell; leftover evidence that someone had once drilled into his shell to make holes so he could be tied down. Sam eventually moved to live with Dad again, along with a few other tortoises that had been acquired along the way. Sam died about three years ago. I was always fond of him.
Around the time Sam died I had an idea that I’d like to have a tortoise of my own. I learned that neighbours of the in-laws were tortoise breeders. They offered teeny tiny babies who would need a vivarium and lots of care. I’m well lazy and knew I’d not be able to give them the proper attention needed so declined the offer. A few weeks ago we were told that the breeders still had tortoises ready and waiting (the same ones, in fact). They were hibernating through winter now and a lot less vulnerable, would we like them? Yes please! So at three and a half years old, Pod & Ludo have moved into our back garden (they have an indoor bedroom for night time). They are Hermann’s tortoises.
I love them. I have to stop myself from kissing them (they can carry salmonella and parasites so it’s best to refrain). They’re really cute. Ludo likes broccoli, Pod likes tomatoes. They both like having a bath.
When they have play time, they walk around the whole edge of the lawn. They’re always accompanied because there is a drop down onto the gravel. You’d be amazed at how clever they are. They know exactly what they’re doing and never blindly plop off the edge. We’ve also bought some fencing to make them a bigger, better space. I need to set it up in a place where there are no poisonous plants but half the plants in the borders are really not tortoise friendly, ugh.
There’s still a lot to learn. I got some good advice from the vet about their diet and it seems we’re doing everything correctly. They’ve been micro-chipped because people love to steal tortoises. I was told that they might cry out when they were chipped but thankfully neither of them did. I felt terribly guilty. Tortoise skin doesn’t heal the same way as mammal’s so they had to be super-glued back together 🙁
On hot days they’re very frisky and bomb it about the garden. I am still waiting for the perfect photo but they keep moving and it’s very tricky. On colder days they sleep more and I feel sorry for them. They bury themselves under their bedding and wait for the sun to come out. Whilst we don’t quite get temperatures of the Med, the UK climate is still alright for them. In the winter, they’ll have a giant snooze in the safety of a box in the shed, ready to start again when the weather improves.
I know they’re not everyone’s cup of tea but I really rather like them!
I’ve wanted to have a holiday in Lancashire for a few years. When I was little we would go and stay with my Gran who lived in Colne. I have recently diagnosed myself with a fairly reasonable case of Nostalgia and this week away was a symptom. I found a farm in Clitheroe with a converted stable for holiday accommodation (My post about the farm is Here, it’s yarn related! Oh, and there’s a seriously superduper yarn related surprise at the bottom of this post too).
What I wanted to do was visit places I’d been to as a child and show my own kids a part of their heritage. A lot of memories about going up north relate to my fascination with the Pendle witches. I think it’s fair to say that I was obsessed with the stories from 400 years ago. When I was about eleven I even wrote a little history book complete with illustrations! The story of these people was told to me by Gran as we looked out of the back room window of her house. She’d ask me if I could see the witch of Pendle Hill, for that was the view we had. This time round, I think it was pretty much a done deal that we should do a mini tour of the Pendle area, including walking up Pendle Hill. As a child I was told that I wouldn’t enjoy clambering up the steep sides and therefore had never been further than the foot of it. Last week I achieved a life time ambition and went to the top!
First stop of the Pendle tour: Witches Galore in Newchurch, quite possibly my favourite shop when I was little. I think the promise of going there was more exciting than actually stepping foot inside. The animatronic display in the little far right window was also a lure. Put 10p in the slot and a witch would stir her bubbling cauldron whilst her familiars got up to mischief behind her (something like that anyway. Sadly, it’s not there anymore. I asked. It’s been gone for nearly ten years). Last week I bought a mug and a fridge magnet as souvenirs, which still tickles me for some reason!
In the village of Roughlee is a statue of Alice Nutter, one of the women accused of witchcraft. The statue was designed by a local artist and it was put in place in 2012 to mark the 400th anniversary of her death, well, all of their deaths; their hangings.
We also went to the Pendle Heritage Centre in Barrowford to learn more history of the area.
Interestingly, Pendle Hill is also where the Quaker movement was founded, so moved was the guy who founded it when he went to the top. Lancashire has a history heavily steeped in religion, which is maybe one of the reasons why witchcraft was more prevalent here than in other places. Also, I’m sure the fact that the Lancashire witch trials were recorded in great detail has something to do with it.
Another day, another trip down memory lane. I see this as Postman Pat country. The lanes are so reminiscent of one of my favourite programmes as a kid (I even had the lunch box. I remember picking at the picture on the front whilst I waited for my mum to come and pick me up from school because I had a toothache). OK, this Nostalgia thing is worse than I first thought.
Anyway, this is Malham, a village across the border and into the Yorkshire Dales. For years I thought I’d dreamed this place up. I must have been pretty young when we went for me to think I’d invented it. Revisiting, I have to say that it is completely within the realms of possibility that this place is a figment of someone’s imagination. Aside from the hoards of tourists that bring you back to earth, Malham Cove is an absolute stunner.
I think I’ve done pretty well in managing not to capture too many of the other human visitors. The kids likened the place to the world of Zelda and I know exactly what they mean. It’s a fantasy land. I can’t see any reason why a faery or two wouldn’t want to live here. Just look at it!!
Anyone else get Picnic At Hanging Rock vibes? Ethereal is a good word to describe it. This pic, by the way, is the bottom of that big cliff face. The water comes from somewhere underneath. That’s another kind of wizardry. Nature is awesome!
Mum told us we were foolish to try Lake Windermere in August. She was right, it was heaving with people. Traffic was hideous and I couldn’t quite believe how all of us people had turned somewhere so beautiful into something ugly. We did no research, just thought we were were close enough that we shouldn’t miss out on a quick look. Sat in a traffic jam, hastily googling on my phone I found lots of places that would have been much better but by then it was too late. We were idiots. Regardless, the views were breath taking.
For part two I want to tell you all about the holiday accommodation and the story behind Freda and Darrell’s farm in Clitheroe. I think you’ll like it. I couldn’t quite believe my luck that we’d found somewhere that had their own wool to spin and dye! More on that another day soon.
But wait, that’s not all. A couple of weeks before the holiday I happened to see on Facebook that Lucy of Attic 24 had put out an open invitation for a knit & natter group in Skipton. We were twenty five minutes from Skipton! It was an opportunity I really couldn’t miss. It was our last day and I thought why the hell not?! I’d regret it if I chickened out. Steeling myself, I stepped into Cooper’s Cafe and joined a group of very lovely and welcoming people. Crikey I was nervous. I don’t know how I came across, no idea at all. It’s all a bit of a blur really. I don’t think I made a twonk of myself but you never know! I had one moment where I thought “I wish I hadn’t said that” (I’ve got no filter) but mostly I think I was well behaved. It was a bit of a worry that I’d come across as a crazy stalker but thankfully there were other newbies there too so I didn’t feel alone. It turned out that they were normal; fingers crossed I was too. And I know that I’m not a weirdo stalker, so there’s that. I loved that everyone was equally enthusiastic about each other’s projects, I loved that we were all asking questions and sharing knowledge. I loved how relaxing it was. It was wonderful to join in and I left full of inspiration about starting a group in my own town. I’m extremely glad that I’ve started making myself do “brave” things. I know I wouldn’t have gone otherwise.
I’ve been on holiday! About a month ago one of my sisters asked me if I fancied a trip away. She had a week off work coming up and was planning a holiday. Originally she was going to go with a friend but her friend had had to back out. Her misfortune was my gain because I said “Yes!” (If you’ve seen my crochet vlogs on YouTube, you’ll know I’ve been saying yes to everything this year in a bid to be more brave). It all happened very quickly; all of a sudden four nights in Andalucia had been booked!
Looking out of the aeroplane window got me excited. Before that I was kind of anxious about the whole thing. I barely slept the night before, knowing that I had to get out of bed at 3.15am and drive us an hour and fifteen to Bristol airport. Other people do this sort of thing all the time but to me it’s pretty alien. Honestly, this year has been nuts. Saying “yes” to things has meant that I’ve been to Edinburgh Yarn Festival, had a weekend break in Amsterdam and now I’ve been to Spain for the first time. All of these have been brilliant but also very budgetty. (By the way, I’m also “yessing” to less extravagant stuff too, I’m not about to leave us penniless by jet setting all over just cos I want to. You know, simple things: Do you want to go for a walk? “Yes”).
Our destination? Saleres, a small, quiet town in Valle De Lecrin, an absolutely stunning part of Spain near the Sierra Nevada mountains . Read about the area here. Isn’t it lovely?! There are no shops in Saleres but there is a bread man who comes round twice a day in his van. And there’s a fish man too who visits everyday. If you hear a tooting horn, then you know someone has come to sell you food. You don’t need a fruit man as there’s loads of it growing on your doorstep. It was wonderful to pluck your own sweet oranges from trees that are in all directions. Lemons were huge and we needed those for G&T’s. We braved the prickly pear fruit, burning the spines off before we handled them and we weren’t sure whether the other things we spied were persimmon or not. It was awesome and I was greedy. We spotted almond trees too and there were allotments aplenty, quite sporadic in their placement but I’m guessing those local guys knew what they were doing. Lots of broad beans, onions and happy tomato plants . The area was abundant in everything. Super lush.
It was AirBnB time. My sister was clever enough to find decent accommodation. I was searching in the wrong places. Just because the airport was in Malaga, did not mean we should stay in Malaga. We stayed in a lovely house, which was traditionally moorish in style. We had three terraces to ourselves and they were mostly private. I did notice an old man in the distance whilst I was using the outdoor shower. He didn’t seem to mind me having a wash. In fact, I think he was rather enjoying himself until he realised I’d turned round and seen him! The house was cool inside and the terraces had hot hot sunshine from morning until sunset. Bliss.
The very first stop was a supermarket to stock up on food and drink (cava and rioja obvs). How I wish I could have fit a jamon into my suitcase. I did squeeze in a fat chorizo and a packet of morcilla (Spanish black pud). Yum!
On our first full day we flipflopped down to Canuelo beach, a very nearly desserted shingle beach. It’s quite a walk down to get there. It’s so worth it though. Stunning, I tell you! Walking back up the hill left me with a beetroot face. It was very hot and super steep. I understand that in peak season there is a bus. You’re not allowed to drive down, you park at the top. We saw police come and put a ticket on the only car brazen enough to break up the beauty of the place. I minded my own business and got on with some beach crochet (there’s a post coming soon about Wool and the Gang’s Tina Tape yarn).
The next day was a trip to Alhambra, a palace/fortress that we couldn’t get tickets for. It was completely sold out. We learned that it’s usually booked up weeks in advance. However, what the official people didn’t tell us (but a friendly guide did) is that there is half a day’s worth of stuff you can do for free! It’s a bonkers place, absolutely massive and I’m kind of glad of all the stuff we couldn’t see (I would have been seriously worn out). We did get to see extraordinary, imposing architecture. There is also an art gallery and museum on site, which we had a wander round.
In the evening we thought we’d stroll over to the next town for a drink and some tapas at one of the bars there. We got lost. Quite a few times actually. After stumbling through some oranges groves and making a couple more wrong turns, we reached our destination. Restabal is another of the towns in Valle de Lecrin, a sign told us it was 1.5km away from Saleres. We found Bar Jovi, which served cold beer (dos cervezas por favor) and delicious tapas. The gubbins that we read at the house told us Restabal was a twenty minute walk away. Hmm, it was a twenty minute march not a casual stroll (we didn’t get lost on the way home, despite it being dark). Whatever, we’re young and fit, it was fine. And the frogs we heard! On the way home, we passed a giant round metal vat/reservoir doodah with water in it. There were frogs hanging out in there and the sounds bouncing off the walls were incredible!
Squeezing in more terrace top crochet.
The last day was a walk to Albunuelas, which was about 3km in the other direction. The path we took is part of the GR7. The GR7 goes through several European countries and is a walkers dream. Or so I understand. Read about it here. The views were awesome, the pathways were brilliant, and we didn’t get lost! It was ridiculously hot though and there are very few shady places. We took plenty of water and when we got to Albunuelas we found a quiet bar (we followed old guys after their sherry). My Spanish is awful but my sister is way better than me. She got across to just keep the tapas coming. There was confusion about menus, I don’t think it was one of the places we’d been told would do three course lunches for 9 Euros. However…
Goodness me! I loved the tapas, it was completely fabulous. (Top right pic is from Bar Jovi). The woman behind the bar was lovely, she made a huge effort to impress us (flaming sausages!). We only had a couple of beers each yet we got through six plates of yummy snacks.
Interesting wildlife too. House martins and swifts zipped about the sky and a gecko sat with us on our top terrace. I know we get lizards here, in fact, there’s a dead slow worm in the garden right now, but I do love seeing them skitter about the place as you walk past. We also saw an eagle owl living on some bloke’s balcony. There were half a tonne of cats on street corners too. They’d come in the house if you let them but we were told to discourage them. A wise decision unless you’re a legit cat lady.
On our last night we steeped in the outdoor tub. Sat neck deep in hot water, we listened to the frogs sing and gazed at bats and shooting stars. Then it was time to go home. Over so quickly. Everything was properly enjoyable. I don’t think I was ever unhappy at all. I wonder where we’ll go next time?!
It’s bluebell time, come on grab your friends, we’re going to visit bluebell lands…etc
I don’t know a single person that isn’t impressed with a sea of these. Let’s face it, even a single bluebell sitting on its own is pretty good. Bees especially agree.
At the weekend we had an impromptu adventure to our nearest gathering of knock your socks off bluebells. Blackbury Camp is situated on the Ottery St Mary to Seaton road and it’s beautiful and interesting at any time of the year. I wrote about it last year when I was seemingly a bit mardy. Check out my grump here.
Photographing outside views is a lot different to product photography. I’ve had more practice at the latter but not much else. This was one of the things that was upsetting me last year. I’ve improved since then but I still don’t fully understand how to get the best shot. It’s not just about clicking away and hoping that one will turn out OK. Every picture you take should have something going for it. That’s what I think. Believe me, I totally click away and hope for the best but I also try and plan stuff too.
I wasn’t thinking about it at the time (hence the non matchy matchy) but these two pics are the left and right of the same view. We’re in an oval bowl of an iron age fort. You can run around the top “walls” or amble through the centre. What is not seen to the left is the lane that brings you here. To the right; an exit, a series of trenches and stunning views of the valley beyond. The pic above this one shows the other side of the wall and one of the trenches.
Do have bluebell woods near you? Anyone in Devon know of other pretty woods? What follows can only be described as Bluebell spam. It’s worth it though!
Spam over. And by the way, I cheated. The bumblebee shots aren’t from Blackbury Camp at all, I took them in my garden a few days before our jaunty outing! Sorry about that. The fun will never end.
Did I catch my cold in Amsterdam or did the kids give it to me when I got back?! Either way, it’s snotsville here at the minute and I’m not sure if I can coherently conjure up words. If you would like to see what happened this weekend then please come, come on a virtual tour of my one of my favourite cities (I’ve been to Amsterdam four times!!). I will bung up pictures and see what I can do! Beware, many pictures of wool skeins will appear at some point and then it’s back to the tour via some phone pics.
I love Amsterdam, it’s friendly, it’s easy and it’s fun. The architecture always blows me away, the canals too. The last time I went was ten years ago and what I didn’t realise then is that it is a city full of young and beautiful people. I didn’t quite feel old this time but if you’re not quick on your feet then tram/bicycle squashing seems pretty inevitable. I don’t recall feeling panicky before, but this time round my brain wasn’t quick enough to feel casual about crossing roads. I didn’t think to get a photo of the crazy crisscross of multiple lanes for cars, bikes and trams.
The weather was mostly good. On our last day it was glorious sunshine. The day before was overcast and we didn’t mind a bit of rain. There was no need for a real coat or anything.
Upon arrival the first thing I made everyone do was visit Stephen and Penelope’s. It’s the “home” of knitwear designer Stephen West and someone not called Penelope. I dragged seven other people on my mission for wool. I felt marginally guilty; not a single one of those people was remotely interested in this pilgrimage but it was alright cos we went for beer straight after. I had to take lots of photos because it would have been taking the Mick to spend too much time in situ. Oh, crikey I wanted to buy it all. I went in having already decided to at least come out with a tote bag. They didn’t have any left and that made me sad. So I spent 5 Euro on a teeny drawstring bag instead. And two skeins of souvenir dutch yarn to squish.
Undercover Otter is a yarn actually from Amsterdam, you can’t get more souveniry than that! I’ve got plans for this yarn but have no idea when I’ll get the time to make anything (certainly not for the next couple of weeks whilst the kids are off school).
Being a dweeb.
Look at what I missed here?! Right next door to Stephen and Penelope’s is a gorgeous looking fabric shop! I didn’t take this pic until the next day (when it was closed, boo). In all the yarny excitement I was blind to all else. Gutted. Anyone know where I can buy geo patterned fabric? What makes me cross is that it was all so bargainous, I missed out on bargains!
We spent half a day in the Rijksmuseum. Yes, it’s pretty impressive but my back ached far too much to give a stuff by the end of floor two. Look, I have a degree in Art History but even I thought it all looked the blinkin’ same. Floor three should have been my favourite but I hardly saw any of it. By that time I’d given up.
Highlights of the museum included Petronella Oortman’s dollhouse. No one was looking at the painting of it (see above) but everyone was clamouring to get a look at the real deal. I was interested to see it because I’ve just read The Miniaturist (it was OK, not as amazing as I was lead to believe). The Miniaturist is set in 17th century Amsterdam and was inspired by this very dollhouse. Not sure how the real Petronella would have felt about someone making up a fanciful story about her though. Also, there was the other “must see” that is Rembrandt’s The Night Watch. We kept calling it The Night’s Watch and wondering where Jon Snow was. Hilarious.
We walked all over the city. People’s fitbits confirmed well over twenty thousand steps per day. Fitbits! We all loved the Albert Cuyp market. Loads of great stalls. Wool, fabric and food. I was very happy.
Amsterdam’s night life is notorious and you really shouldn’t miss out on it. It is a marvel to walk the streets and see with your own eyes. Sadly, pictures taken in the dark, on my phone after a few beers; I didn’t get anything to even come close to capturing the true nutjobness of the red light district. You have to see it for yourself. The city’s lights at night are stunning too. The canals are lit up, it’s magic!
A fab way of seeing the city is a trip on a barge. We did this on our last morning, with the sun out and jumpers off. I learned loads about the history of the place and it was a good accompaniment to The Miniaturist. We chugged down the Herengracht (where all the mega rich people used to live) and around the Golden Bend. There are certain sights you can only see here by boat and I think it’s essential if you’re after a touristy excursion. It was just the right thing to end the break on. Thoroughly enjoyed it!
There was lovely autumn sunshine yesterday. I went into the garden in my Hallowe’en get up to take a few pictures. The garden isn’t as exciting to me now but I think I should have a record of what it looks like in a different season.
Autumn is seriously beautiful. The other day I drove back home from the weekly shop through an orange tunnel of trees. Low sun, autumn leaves, winding roads through the woods. There was definitely some magic going on.
I haven’t got much to say today. It was only five minutes in the garden, finding what I liked best about it.
There is one last courgette hanging on. And since I can’t be bothered to tear up the bedraggled runner beans yet, there are still some of those too.
One bed dug over and manured. Nasturtiums are trying their luck. I could salad them up before the frosts, I suppose.
I’m most impressed with the hosta seeds. Pretty! Last year I took some of these and planted them. Nowt happened. Next year I’m really going to look after my hostas. This year so many snails and slugs dined on them, they ended up looking like lace.
That’s it for now. Shock,horror, I have done very little crochet in the last week. We’ve been away for half term and had poorliness. I’ve taken to reading more too, which takes up stitchy time. I’ll try and find a better balance this week.
Ps. I found a couple more dodgy pictures of my little halloween garland.
This year our summer holiday was in Cardigan Bay, west Wales. What an awesome place! I’m not sure why you’d want to read about my holiday on a craft blog but I’m sharing it anyway! Ha.Ha. :I
It was over cast at first but not cold. It didn’t stop us from beaching it. The first day we went to Penbryn, a National Trust beach. Three things made this a particulary interesting place to be that day. One: I learned that it was used in a James Bond movie ( a teeny weeny, miniscule moment at the end of Die Another Day). Two: There was a wedding happening right there on the beach (we stood there gawping with our buckets and spades). And three: I thought I found a dead body. I felt a bit stupid when I realised it was a faded buoy and not a pensioners bald head wedged in the rocks, but you know, it was a few seconds of heart pounding interesting.
I love a good cave. There were a lot of caves.
This is a hippo, or possibly a moomin.
This was our coastal walk from Penbryn to Llangrannog. We didn’t actually make it as far as Llangrannog. We had to give up because it was too hard going for the kids. Lots of uppy downy.
On a really hot day we went to New Quay. The tide was out so we had a paddle between the boats.
This was where we waited for a boat to come and take us on a dolphin watching tour. The tour was fifty minutes of wondering where they were and then five minutes of “Oh wow! Look! A dolphin!” Then we had to go back to the quay. To be fair, it was a pretty blimmin good five minutes of dolphin watching. I’d never seen one before and we got to watch a mummy and baby dolphin do some peaceful swimming.
We ditched the kids one day and went to the National Wool Museum. The kids were sent with Grandma and Grandad to the Internal Fire Museum of Power! Sounds like a pretty good place too but I was happy with some wool.
There were working looms, which were very loud and fast. It was mesmerising to watch but I didn’t like the man putting his hands so close to the shuttle thingies. He knew what he was doing.
We did Newcastle Emlynn that day too. It had good shops and some castle leftovers.
We went to Aberystwyth, which we thought was an odd place. I can imagine that it would’ve been a bit of a party town a hundred years ago but now, a lick of paint wouldn’t go amiss on some of those buildings. I did like it though! There’s definitely a sense of nostalgia here.
We went on the cliff terrace railway. We journeyed upon a worrisome train that was working loose at the seams. The hill is so steep that you wonder how this thing can pass health and safety tests. Well, we didn’t crash to our deaths that day so, all was good.
The views were alright.
Lots of cool architecture in Aberystwyth. Having been here, it makes me want to watch Hinterlands, a crime drama filmed in the area. I hear it’s pretty good.
We had a couple of days of barbeque weather too. Yay!
Our holiday was concluded with ice creams at Llangrannog. I loved this beach. The tide was out and I could walk round to the next bay.
Whilst I wondered about taking pictures of rocks and stuff, the boys and Husband dug holes in the sand.
I didn’t want to miss out on playing with sand either. This is my effort. It was initially just a motte and bailey castle (Eldest learned about these at school last year) but a giant octopus came and smothered it.
Llangrannog was possibly my favourite. We did lots of other stuff too but I think I’ve shared quite enough holiday snaps for today! I’m off to get my craft on. I’ve got a massive list of stuff to make now that the boys are at school.
As I mentioned in my last post, we went to Dartmoor on Sunday. Mostly this was to meet with friends for lunch but we also explored Haytor too. Usually we skip the tor and go to the pretty quarry a few hundred metres away. However, the boys wanted to climb a “mountain” so we stuck to the rocks.
I think the tor looks like a giant’s foot sticking out of the ground. Too many toes I know, so a mutant giant. (I know some of those people). I haven’t managed to capture the size of it (big), the walk/climb up to it is quite hard work, especially after a roast dinner (and a late night).
The quality of the picture is not that great as I’m told my ISO number was too high for outdoors. Low number for outdoorsy pics next time.
This is at the foot of it. It’s easy to climb as there are steps cut into it. It’s still hugely windy up there and it makes me feel uneasy. The kids could easily get whooshed off the tops of one of the toes (I wouldn’t let them up the very tops anyway and certainly not on the big toes). I didn’t take pictures up the top because of this.
Rocks n stuff.
This guy flew around quite a bit. Think he was on the look out for someone’s picnic.
Then there’s the obligatory Dartmoor ponies. They were quite aloof. Not interested in talking to us at all.
If you look closely, there’s loads of interesting plants living in the crevices of the rocks. Not sure what this is.
I think this might be my favourite picture. I love the mossy blanket that has come away from the granite. Apparently this picture has good bokeh!
There was a lizard sunbathing on this rock. He moved so blimmin fast, he was gone before I could ask him for a picture.
Some bilberries (or windberries- same thing, I think) are trying to grow here. Are they a relation of the blueberry? I could be wrong about that.
And all the faces in the rocks too! I didn’t spot David Bowie any where…
Well, that was Dartmoor. A tiny bit of it anyway. It’s a pretty big chunk of Devon. And my favourite fact about Dartmoor is, it’s radioactive! If I visit enough, I’m assuming that I will get some kind of super powers. I think that’s how it works.
Hello, Just here to share some bluebell photos. They aren’t very good I’m afraid. I think I’m using the wrong lens again. I’m on a bit of a downer though and that usually makes me think everything is rubbish. Boo flippin hoo. Maybe tomorrow they’ll look lovely!
Anyway, here is Blackbury Camp in East Devon (not blackberry, thank you). It’s a fabulous place for bluebells and I always time my visits incorrectly. Usually I’m too early and they’re not quite out. To be honest, I don’t think these are at their peak just yet. I could go back in a day or two, it’s only a ten minute drive from me but I bet I won’t.
This is me trying to be clever. I should work on perfecting the basics of photography before getting artsy fartsy.
I noticed white bluebells (?) dotted about the place. What’s that about?
It wasn’t the best day, weather wise. Mostly grey, turning sunny towards the end of the visit. Twas a Monday afternoon.
The history of Blackbury Camp is interesting. It’s an old Iron age fort, possibly somewhere I’d head in a zombie apocalypse. It’s a kind of oval shaped bowl with two entrances and a moaty type thing around the outside. Now it’s all mud n trees but it presumably would’ve had wooden ramparts sitting sturdily on the rim of the bowl. These pics don’t really show the shape of it but google does.
In previous years we’ve had picnics here among the bluebells in April/May or in the summer when the kids catch grasshoppers and run around playing hide n seek.
Because I was unhappy with these pictures, I admit I fiddled with them on Pic Monkey. I’ve had to warm them up somewhat because they looked so dull. Obvs, I blame the weather.
This one in particular got the editing treatment. It looks better than it did but no amount of fiddling can improve a truly crud photo… pah, onwards and upwards. I’ve asked for a photography book for my birthday, which is next week. The first anniversary of my very first blog post is coming up soon too. I think I’ll write up a crochet pattern for that one as it feels like it’s been a while. Right then, I’m off to go and cheer myself up.
Now that the garden is well into the first stage of Spring prettiness, I am here to unashamedly post shed loads of photographs just because I want to. I also thought I’d post these sunny pictures today because outside it is cold, wet and grotty. What a flippin’ miserable day. Most of the pictures have been taken in the last two weeks but some with the cat were before that.
In that nesting box, we’ve spotted a pair of coal tits flitting in and out. We watched them a few days ago collecting tufts of garden string to line their nest with.
There’s no particular order. I did think about planning them out in a nice sequence but I was getting confused.
The muscari finally decided to come out to play.
The peonie has chosen not to take part in any games just yet.
Clematis is not quite ready.
This picture is a missed opportunity. Must fit some more camera learning in. Mind you, that bee was gone just as quickly as it arrived.
I’ve also got my veg beds that need sorting. We planted some peas a couple of weeks ago and they’re coming up now. But there’s not much else going on there.
Honestly, I’ve been planning on a lovely garden post for ages and now that I’ve decided to do it, I can’t think of much to say! Probs for the best. Better get back to something more crafty.