Pointing and shooting

Hello to all new followers. You are very welcome. (I'm trying to track down your blog, if you have one, but it's not always easy. Do let me know by commenting.)

I’ve always taken photographs, ever since I received a Box Brownie one Christmas when I was about eight. I stopped in my forties because films were no longer available for my ancient camera but then started again around ten years ago, about the time I started this blog, because Frog managed to repair a broken digital camera that one of my brothers had thrown out.

I loved the simplicity of it. All you had to do was point and shoot and there was none of that traipsing to the chemist to have your films developed. I rediscovered my love of photography.

Four years ago my brother’s camera failed for the last time and I bought myself a new one. It had a few features but I’ve yet to investigate any of them. I still point and shoot.

I used only to snap people because pictures were in black and white but now I almost exclusively photograph nature. I take my camera with me whenever I go out for a walk as it helps me concentrate on my surroundings. Instead of being lost in my own head, I notice things.

And here are some of the things I’ve noticed over the last few days.

On Friday the bluebells in my secret wood were at their most beautiful. I wish I could convey to you their delicate hyacinth scent. Somehow Ellie has managed to get into nearly every picture.

Contrasting so well with the blue was this Yellow Archangel with its gorgeous custardy flowers. The plant is a sign of ancient woodland, so it's always thrilling to see it.

On Sunday, with the weather still balmy,  I was astonished to see this elder blossom in the field behind the house since the tree doesn't usually bloom until June.

On Monday in gentle drizzle, my neighbour's tumbledown shed captured my attention. I think they've been trying to remove the ivy, only to reveal the appalling state of the shed's roof and cob (mud) walls no longer protected by render. Those ivy stalks - like something out of a fairy tale - made me want to be a painter.

On Tuesday in the rain, these luminous newly-hatched oak leaves leapt out of the hedgerow at me.

This morning on my way up the hill, I stood underneath this battered Scots pine. I always do that because it lines up with a neighbour's old farmhouse and another Scots pine on top of another hill. I imagine it's on a ley, and that some of the power of that line might pass through me and help me be a stronger, braver, wiser person. (Well, I can keep on hoping can't I.)

And on my way home down another track I passed this froth of cowparsley, quivering in the wind and gleaming ultra-violet white in the sun.