Before Sunset

I've been playing about with my camera settings to see what they do. Mostly I'm just twiddling dials and seeing what happens; not being particularly technically minded, this approach suits me. And no one will ever see the pictures that are terrible, so it doesn't matter. There are happy accidents all the time, which is good enough for me.

For example, I took around thirty pictures of these blossoms, and every one looked different. What's rather wonderful about a proper camera that's not an iPhone is that you can decide what to focus on, and I faffed around for ages focusing on different branches and flowers in this same spot. I can't say that I'd like to spend so much time over every photo, though. The purpose of the walks is not to take great photos; it's to be outside, exercising and paying attention to the little things. The photos come second, or even third.

We've been spending a lot of time down by the river as the weather's improved. As the crow flies, the river is probably about three hundred metres from my house. You'll have noticed for sure that I haven't been writing much about our walks over the past few months. We've still been walking, but I just can't think of anything to say about the same place over and over. That makes it sound like I'm not enjoying my fresh air and exercise, which is not the case. I still smile as I step out the door, with my dog by my side and poo bags in my pocket. It's perfect for wiping the work stresses from my mind and setting me up to relax in the evening. I just don't think anyone wants to see photos of the same trees and paths every day, and I don't have enough time to sit wracking my brain over what to say about those same sights.

These sights. 

Ooooh, macro! Actually, I'm not sure. I've just Googled the term and I'm none the wiser. This could be just close-up, or it could be macro, but I'm fairly certain it's not micro. It's definitely leaves, though. And leaves of such a crispness and clarity that you don't get with a phone camera. That'll do for me.

Ah, now, I already knew that it's quite tricky to photograph the sun when it's still bright in the sky. I might play around with this a bit because I like photographing the sun. It's a celestial body, for goodness' sake!  Amazing. I've not photographed the moon yet because I've been busy, and, also, I haven't seen it for a while, what with the days being long at the moment. 

I have another twenty or thirty photos of this little area, as I played around with shutter speeds and apertures. It's not a beautifully framed scene or anything, but it did have funny light, so I thought it was a good place to practise.

I don't yet know how to deal with a scene like this, where you've got shadows and light at the same time. This is where I think it's maybe a good idea to switch to auto to see how the camera deals with it on its own, and then try to replicate it manually, if I like it. I'll try that next time.

I can get in much closer to the Scandinavian houses with this camera – this one isn't even zoomed in. This doesn't help me in terms of buying one because they're still expensive, but at least I can gaze at them adoringly on my computer from the comfort of my tatty sofa in my tatty living room in my tatty house.

I love looking this way, out to sea – it's a good few miles to the bay, but it's just the knowledge that it's there that I find a little bit thrilling. It's all about possibilities, isn't it? I get the same feeling when I'm standing on a train platform, waiting to board a train to go somewhere that's not home. Possibilities, travel, adventure, a little bit of the unknown – which is usually the case for me because I'm not well travelled, so everywhere's new. Although, I'm not really sure why gazing out to sea stirs my soul since I'm properly terrified of deep, dark water, and I get seasick. But there we are. I think it's because I'm a reader of historical novels, and there's often a sea voyage or two in a historical novel. And historical piratical novels are full of 'em, of course. The best one I ever read was Flint and Silver, set before the events of Treasure Island – the story took place almost entirely at sea, and I spent many weeks after coming out with, 'Avast ye!' and 'Fetch me the cat o' nine tails, boy, and I'll flog that son of a biscuit eater 'til 'e begs to walk the plank!' Also, 'Aaaarrrggh!'

You can get in quite close with just the lens the camera came with. Don't ask me what lens it is because I don't know. Something about a range of millimetres that I don't understand. 

And so you can see the Priory a bit better. As you saw last week, the Priory is right next to Lancaster Castle. As I said, less than a mile from my house. I don't think about that fact often, but when I do, it strikes me as pretty cool that I live within a mile of a really old castle. I've always felt within my soul that I should've lived in a castle, and in a different century. I suppose lots of people who are of a romantic bent feel that way. (I don't mean romantic as in mushy love stuff, there; I mean people whose emotions are affected strongly by stuff that they see and hear and think about – possibly weepers, like me!)

So there you go. A bit of a meandering post today. This is what happens when I take photos, throw them into the blog and then forget about them for weeks. I have to make stuff up because I can't remember my thoughts when I took the pictures. But it's nice to write and share some of the waffle in my head all the same. It's almost like talking to real people, but much more selfish because I'm monopolising the conversation and you don't get to say anything. Suits me, since I'm very asocial. Think of me as Willy Wonka in his reclusive years. One day, I may invite the world into my factory of horrors, but until then ... 

'If the Good Lord had intended us to walk he wouldn't have invented roller skates.'

Or ...

'If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.'

Linda + Freya