I know I've posted this in a slightly smaller form on Pohanginapete, but I'm up to my ears in work right now and every moment's precious (as all moments should be, however). I desaturated most of the colours to convert it to black-and-white, except for those small patches of green seaweed.
Another telephoto shot from my back door yesterday morning. Less metaphor, although I suppose it's possible to find it there somewhere.
A telephoto shot of part of the view from my back door this morning. It struck me as having the elements of metaphor.
At Mandvi, on the coast of Gujarat, they build wooden ships — everything from runabouts to the modern equivalent of galleons. Business seems to be thriving, and while that continues, the old skills will remain.
Tagasaste is better known in the valley as "tree lucerne". It's flowering profusely right now, and is great food for birds (kereru, tui and korimako in particular) and bees (bumblebees and honeybees). That's the Pohangina river in the background.
Mid January 2007. In Jodhpur, travel by foot has definite advantages, not the least being the ease of negotiating blockages like this.
3 July this year: midwinter, the evening the camera died. It almost seemed deliberate, as if that item of plastic, metal and glass had gained just enough sentience to understand this was the time of year when staying alive is hardest. Now, little more than a month and a half later, the season feels utterly different. And the camera's resurrected.
Another photo of these delightful little animals.
A few days before Christmas, 2006, I'd found a spot well away from the main track in Keoladeo Ghana National Park, near Bharatpur in Rajasthan. Nevertheless, this man found me and tried to sell me his services as a wildlife guide. To demonstrate his abilities, he identified the black-shouldered kite sitting in a tree nearby. Unfortunately he misidentified it, badly. They're unmistakeable birds, too. I declined his offer but one had to admire his enthusiasm and initiative, even if they're not enough to compensate for his lack of knowledge. Perhaps by now he's learned enough to be reliable, although reluctance to say, "I don't know" can be a harder handicap to overcome.
Would you buy a used car from any of these men? I thought not. However, cars weren't common then: horse, dray and shanks' pony were the common forms of transport. To be fair, I'll point out that the long exposure times needed for photographs during that time meant smiling wasn't feasible.
July 2008. We walked back from Driftwood Cove to Flounder Bay as the light faded. In midwinter one's likely to have the place to oneself, save for the gulls, the terns, a few gannets cruising along a coast that seems ancient despite the facts of its history. If I saw the silhouette of a pterodactyl out there over that ocean I'm sure I'd experience no more than a momentary confusion, a ripple in reality, before thinking, yes, that belongs here.
A year ago the evening sky looked like this at the edge of the terrace.
At Driftwood Cove some of the boulders look as if they've been placed by giants. At least I think it was Driftwood Cove — maybe it was at the Cove of Giants, just around the corner? Sounds like an excuse to go back and check — not that I'd need an excuse to go back there. I can't wait.
Yesterday hardly seemed like winter. The plum near the gate hummed with bees; sun soaked into everything; lambs slept in the middle of the paddock, undisturbed by any trace of a breeze. But the forecasters tell us bad weather's on the way. I guess winter's not gone yet.
About an hour ago, on my way back down from a walk to the top of the No. 1 Line track. At the top I rested for a few minutes in the calm, mild afternoon, ate an apple and, through the binoculars, watched a deer feeding at the top of a slip on the far mountainside. I felt as if I had the whole southern Ruahine to myself.
These little squirrels were among the most common mammals I saw in India. Yet another animal I never tired of seeing.
Another in the series from No. 3 Line, not far from my place. I preferred a slight sepia tone for this, rather than the colder, straight black-and-white conversion. Why? I don't know. Any ideas? (Feel free to disagree if you think you'd prefer straight B&W).
Had a brilliant time this weekend at Wairakei, just north of Taupo in the Central North Island. Cold water and I don't mix; however, this met my minimum standard of non wet-suited swimming (i.e. almost blood temperature).
Winter in the Pohangina valley. But the first lamb appeared earlier this week, and the first flowers have opened on the fruit tree near the gate.
I trust you're not tired of photos of these little birds. I'm not — I can't recall ever failing to be uplifted by their presence. Anyway, I'm pushed for time (away for a couple of nights) and have to post a couple of photos quickly, so this is what you get ;^)
I love places like this. One never knows quite what might live there, quietly hidden, perhaps nocturnal, perhaps known only as that strange call on a moonlit night. The lap of the water along the edge of the creek, the roar of surf out of sight but close by, the rustle of seed heads in the wind from the sea — these are things children seem to appreciate better than most adults.
Driftwood Cove, November 2007. I couldn't escape the feeling this could have been some tentacled monster, cast up from the deep.
"Forget about trying to photograph at midday," they say. "The light's no good." But here in Aotearoa in early June the midday sun's low, the shadows are strong, the light lacks the bleached-out look of summer sun at noon. I photographed these apples at sixteen minutes past midday on 7 June.
Number 3 Line's close enough for me to walk there, and I'm more inclined to carry the camera when walking than biking. After an initial section of winding road that climbs just steeply enough to work the legs and lungs nicely, the road levels out onto a terrace. Up there it can feel like a place from another world, another time.
About a month ago I biked my usual route up No. 2 Line but, because the evening light was so clear and beautiful, I carried the camera in a small daypack on my back. This and the steers were among the last photos before the camera began acting up. Fortunately it's back in action again (and has been for a couple of weeks).
