At last, very belatedly signs of spring here – walking home tonight it was a fine spring evening, glorious light quality, bright, clear. I noticed a lot of daffodils in full bloom, a full two months late – those should have been in bloom back in March but such was the appallingly, unseasonably cold (even for Scotland)weather for much of this spring they are only now blooming. It was so nice I went slightly out of my way to walk along the Union Canal on the walk home from work, and saw that – finally – the blossoms on the trees are starting to flower, again weeks later than they should (really they should have flowered and fallen by now leaving carpets of soft white and pink petals across the pavements). Normally I would shoot these delicate petals and the clear, blue dome of sky above in colour, but for some reason I felt like trying them in monochrome and actually I’m quite pleased with how they came out, which I attribute to the beautiful light quality more than my own eye.
This short film by Rutger Hauer and Sil van der Woerd is as hauntingly beautiful as the lifeforms it celebrates – the last blue whale, the largest creature ever known on our life-rich world, comes eye to eye with the only predator it ever really had – a human:
Scotland, autumn; the sunlight is stretched out in our northern kingdom at this time of year, a soft, golden light that makes the stonework of old buildings glow copper and bathes the world, as if a tin of self illuminating copper paint were splashed across the world. It is the most beautiful time of year in Scotland. And as the trees beging to turn and green is joined by reds and golds before falling from the trees into ever growing piles (which beg to be kicked into the air). And as the “season of mist and mellow fruitfulness” bears out colourful fruit, an autumn bounty, I couldn’t resist sampling some as we were walking in Holyrood’s royal park by Arthur’s Seat. As these glowed in the golden light I took a photograph; a few seconds later I had scoffed many of them, delighting in the tangy, juicy taste and the childlike pleasure of sticky, purple stained fingers and lips.
The changing of the tides at Cramond just by the edge of the rivers Forth and Almond on the edge of Edinburgh, bringing out a huge number of birds from graceful swans to howling seagulls (ye gods, what a racket!) and some ducks.In the 2nd century AD you’d have seen Romans moored hereabouts on their way to the Antonine Wall.
To the right of this picture is a causeway which is submerged by high tide, leading out to an island which still has the shells of hastily constructed buildings for gun emplacements to protect the Rosyth Naval Base just up the river a bit further. I used to cycle out here with friends when I was a student (and fit!); I still remember going out to the island at low tide one day with my friend Leonie. As we walked over to the far side we heard music – live music, not a stereo brought by someone having a beach party. We cleared some bushes and came down the far side to see a group of old WW2 buildings on the edge, each one with musicians in a doorway playing away while a friend filmed them with a video camera as yachts sailed past and further out in the deep channel tankers sailed slowly by; quite a surreal experience.
We went off for a good walk past the harbour and up the Almond, past the weir and into the gorge – I’ll probably post some more pics from that bit later on, but when we came back down the way the tide had all but gone out and you could walk to the island again.
Workers on that mighty piece of Victorian engineering, the Forth Rail Bridge, have spotted a pod of Orcas swimming past them in the River Forth, right up past Edinburgh. There are seals on some of the islands in the Forth, which may be attracting them, although it is remarkable to see them swimming so far upriver. That would be a sight to cheer you up on the commute from Fife to Edinburgh, wouldn’t it? How cool is it that a couple of miles from my door there are killer whales swimming in the river?? And why couldn’t those darned Orcas arrive over the weekend when I could get out there with my camera?!?!? Mind you, I suspect the local seals have a somewhat different view on this.