~ A wonderful river walk at the chaos, with Rosie and Porridge. The dogs are each intrepid in their own ways, and make us laugh, and the scenery is beautiful. We lose each other, and find each other again, we take pictures and talk of important and less important things, we come back tired and relaxed and go our separate ways. Molly is incredibly thirsty and drinks off two bowls of water striaght when we are back at our car; she forgot she could drink the river. I look forward to going through the photos soon, meanwhile,
~ four lots of gear and tackle, ancient and modern, from my brother's place.
9 comments:
dreaming often provides the essential oils that soothe the hurt
and sometimes offers clues to re-assembling the jigsaw that has been scattered around by bereavement
Good to have friends, of whatever species.
May you long dream of your sister.
the walk sounds lovely.
i, too, welcome those dreams.
I'm very fond of b&w. There's a knack to taking good ones. I am enjoying these, as I do many of your photos.
I see the adjustable wrench and my mind wanders. Such devices are virtually indestructible and are only overwhelmed in the end by decades of use which makes them sloppy to adjust. I imagine the moment when this one tightened (or slackened) its last nut, was laid down and from then on ignored. Stasis made it vulnerable to corrosion and eventually the finger-screw rusted solid. A long long passage from utility to uselessness during which its anthropomorphic inner being railed against metallic decay. And, being French, experienced the further almost onomatopoeiaic transition from outil to inutile. Then along came Lucy to rescue it and give it a new role in life. A beatification?
Did you know we're all going to have to pay (initial quote £7.5m, now up to £12m) for Ratzinger's visit to the Midlands to beatify Newman? Mind you I see he travels around in a much reduced Popemobile so possibly times are hard. What with all those settlements out of court.
How well the black and white works with the tools! I used to have recurring dreams about someone very close to me who died. All of them ended with her just wandering off, without a word or goodbye, simply walking calmly away and fading from view.
Thanks. The tools and suchlike are strong on form, I guess, so the b/w works in that way, and because some of them are old and retro too, though that's not such a good reason.
Thanks for the gentle words too.
Lately my dream life has been busy. Almost always when I remember, I awake from time spent with strangers in strange lands. Sometimes I have my family with me, but always in strange lands I never go to except in dreams.
Your photos as ever are striking. I put up the one on my desktop of your purple flowers and the small bee hovering, poised in mid air, pondering where to go next. I wish I had riches like that...
I look at these and think about Dave Bonta's lovely book of tools poetry!
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