Liking Autumn

I love the crunch beneath my boots,

Crisp mornings and coloured trees.

Fingerless gloves and owl hoots,

Long scarves down to my knees.

Conkers burst their, spiked armour,

Spill their seeds for conker wars.

Scarlet and golden paint a scene,

To cover paths and forest floors.

Without Autumn there’d be no respite

a harvest moon would not appear.

No Halloween or cosy suppers

To bring us all our Autumn cheer.

So many of you asked, ‘what are conkers?’ I have popped this link for you. Here . The shaddow fighter picture above was found un credited on the internet and depicts a conker war. All other shots are of my own making.

What do you like about Autumn? Have you played Conkers? I’d love to hear … go on, you know you’d like to.

A Frantic photo.

Capture 1

 

I watch a very attractive twenty-something girl, (youth is beauty after all) she poses outside a well-known emporium in London. I sip my tea as I catch a glimpse of the figure through the steamy window, across the street. Her task became clear as pedestrians moved on, leaving her in view.

She shot five, ten maybe twenty or more snaps, all with different sections of shopfront. The window dressing backdrops, all varieties of poses. There was lipstick on and off, a chin down and up, head to the right then left. One which surely was one side only with a book covering one eye. Hair combed, twisted, tucked and pulled.

My tea finished I walked across the street curious to see her closeup. I couldn’t help it, I smiled and said ‘the first one, you were far more beautiful in the first one.’ She came after me; touched my arm. ‘Sorry. but how do you know?’ She was agitated not quite cross but rattled. I pointed across the road ‘I was in the tea house and saw you clicking, taking shots with your phone … you were perfect in the first one.’

She scrolled fast through her gallery as she tip-tapped alongside. Until she shoved her i phone under my nose. ‘This one … why would it be the best, my nose looks long at that angle and my lips look dry, it isn’t the best at all.’ She was quite frantic, rushing her words, pushing her chest forward. ‘But your nose is the way it is, besides in the first one you were twenty-five minutes younger than the last, so it must be the best.’ I left her baffled as I went about my day. We are what we are regardless of the persona we show the virtual world. Our looks constantly change so each picture depicts a flash of what was; not a perfect shot of what is. The worry on the face of the young woman bothers me. Why the image was so important, it appeared imperative so stressful that I swear I heard palpitations and saw a fear in her eyes. I suppose the term ‘selfie syndrome’ will soon be another condition that parents have to watch for. It seems appearance is all, and ageing humans such as myself, women and men that have lives and deaths etched on our faces will be invisible. At least to the people

We are what we are regardless of the persona we show the virtual world. Our looks constantly change so each picture depicts a flash of what was, not a perfect shot of what is. The worry on the face of the young woman bothers me. Why the image was so important, it appeared imperative, so stressful that I swear I heard palpitations and saw a fear in her eyes. I suppose the term ‘selfie syndrome’ will soon be another condition that parents have to watch for. It seems appearance is all, and ageing humans such as myself, women and men that have lives and deaths etched on our faces will be invisible. At least to the people whose faces, they believe are the measure of them.

thank you unsplash for the use of the picture.

I would love your answer to the question … why was the perfect shot so important?

Precious Things.

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This is my precious special item, you’ll think it a strange one I expect. My daughter and her husband gifted this rose bush to me. “Mother of the bride” they called. Their words made eyes leak. The rose is a gift that will remind me always of their special day, May 23rd 2015.

I counted forty two blooms yesterday and I think each one represents a kind word, and a hug from my daughter. They remind me that however far in time and miles we are from her, she still cares and loves us, as we do her.

My Husband said they look like old ladies frilly knickers… what do you say other than, “When? When did you see… no don’t answer”. They smell of honey and vanilla the roses that is, the middles are a deeper leamon than the edges; my two tone frilly nice smelling knickers!

I hope they make you happy too. Do you have a precious something you would share? I’d  love to hear your stories or see the item you find so special. Leave me a link or a comment, please do.😆😇

I’ve Eaten My Post.

As I am away until the twelfth of July and  have scheduled a few posts so as not to dissapoint my visitors. I am planning an occasional coffee shop visit to beg wifi so do keep coming,  😇 😘

Today my healthy breakfast was even healthier than usual. In my strawberry pot little pops of goodness grew and  I chose this bright morning to pick them.

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My breakfast mixed in a bowl waited in the kitchen. It waited for the topping that would make it look like muesli;  but in a party frock. Ths addition would bring beauty to the mix and raise the anti oxidants to levels supreme.

 In Anticipation of the breakfast I put out my favourite mug; the one with a picture of a fat strawberry slapped on its side. A coloured spoon that set the scene  was placed just so. The coffee pot pre – warmed and ready. My setting almost complete,  waited for me to photograph it,  A picture to finish off my blog, to proudly show my produce in its best light. A picture taken with a shiny new camera.on my phone.  I’m not a photographer or even a good snapshot taker, but this is brand spanking new and I was excited. After all what could go wrong.

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From the deck outside the kitchen window, I plucked three juicy plump strawberries. They felt good in my hand, warmed by the morning sun. Their scent tickled my nostrils, my mouth filled with saliva and my tastebuds jumped to attention. By the time I walked into the kitchen they had disappeared. The only traces remaining were stains at  the corners  of my mouth. .I had eaten them, relished each one, I rubbed the achenes with my tongue,  they felt like goose pimples. Slowly I slurped, devoured and thoroughly enjoyed all three. That is why this  is incomplete, unfinished and left lacking. Because, I’ve eaten my post!

Post script…

I felt guilty so made a replica of said breakfast… minus the Yoghurt as It has gone too.. I snapped this second one just as my mouth began to water.

 To assuage my guilt I will leave you my breakfast recipe and maybe  the strawberries will get in to your bowl before being devoured.. .

One hand full of organic jumbo oats
Two desert spoons of chopped and sliced almonds, hazelnuts and walnuts.
Two teaspoons of already mixed, sunflower, linseed and pumpkin seeds.
Fresh fruit the sumptuous kind ( red or purple )
A dollap of thick plain yoghurt
Two desertspoons of fresh juice.
Two teaspoons of Agave nectar.
Mix, allow to sit for ten minutes
Then if you managed to get this far without doing so… eat.

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Have you ever left something unfinished?
Have you scuppered your own blog?
Or eaten your post?
Leave me a comment let me know what you think of my photographic skills, and my recipe. I’m away for a bit but will answer as soon as I can. Meanwhile enjoy the sun.