Describing colours

I see that Roselle has done a recent blog post called ‘Shades of yellow’ and this reminds me both of a post I've done of the same name and of Roselle’s novel-writing course which I followed a couple of years ago.

One of the exercises on the course was to describe a scene, being precise about colours – not just saying that something was ‘brown’ for instance but describing the particular shade of brown. I realised that, because I’m not a painter, I didn’t have words for the different shades (eg umber, sienna, sepia – as my Thesaurus tells me) but could only describe them in terms of other objects, eg ‘chocolate’ brown.

So here is my attempt on my walk yesterday to describe the many shades of yellow I saw.

The usual description of this colour is 'buttery' but, looking closely, I see that there are darker bits - 'burnt butter' perhaps

The word that springs to mind for this lichen is 'sulphur' but I've never seen sulphur so 'mustard' would be more honest

Daffodils are supposed to be the epitome of yellow but they do have a 'sulphurous' tinge . . .

. . . unlike these celandines whose yellow is pure sun, pure joy - albeit with egg-yolk in the middle

I have no doubt about the colour of this string - it's 'lemon'

And that's not a good image on which to end this post, but that's the countryside for you. Perhaps I should end it instead with this picture of Ellie and the baby rabbit she caught.

As Frog says, it's the (terracotta) sandy paws that are most pathetic

 

Worn out, muddy, end-of-winterish

This field at the top of the hill called out to me this morning to be photographed. I think it’s because it reflects how I feel myself at the moment – worn out, muddy, end-of-winterish. Here is the same field in September (2013) - spruce and fruitful.

I’ve spent the week sewing, taking a break from the editing of our local newsletter on which I’ve been working flat out ever since I took it over last October. I had begun to feel out of touch with myself.

I don’t think I’m good enough to be a novelist, but I miss writing. I miss the solitude and the freedom. Editing and winter have drained my creative cauldron. I need ploughing, manuring and re-seeding. I need light and warmth.

Gif

You might notice that I have a new follower called 'Gif'. I think it's spam so please don't click on any links connected to it - I would hate anything bad to happen to you. (It's safe to click on the icon itself because I've done that myself, but I wouldn't go any further.)

Do you have any suggestions as to how to get rid of it??

Places of unknowing

Like Trish in her blog 'What's cooking?', I'm posting a picture of yesterday's extraordinary sunset (in Devon at least).

Sunset, Devon, 26.1.15

And here are some pictures of an outing Frog and I took last Thursday to what is turning into our favourite county: Somerset. Not Burrow Mump this time but the Bridgwater and Taunton Canal.

Mistletoe, poplars, Frog and Dog

Reeds and wind - a bitter north-easterly

In a recent post Autumn Cottage Diarist talks about being in a place of unknowing after her beloved cat was rushed to the vet. I'm in my own place of unknowing since my 87-year-old mother was rushed to hospital about two weeks ago, and I've tried to blog about it three times, but without success. I feel better now she's back at home, and that I've spoken to her on the telephone, and that I've arranged that Frog and I will visit in a couple of weeks' time. She lives four hours' drive away from us so it's difficult to give unplanned help. Thankfully I have four siblings closer at hand and they and their spouses/partners are doing sterling work providing her with round-the-clock attention.

With a few words

A cold day – 1^o according to my car display – and grey and damp with it.

My creative eye returns as I walk the dog in a nearby park, and there are several things I want to photograph. Why I want to photograph these particular things, I have no idea and so I have nothing to say about them – my creative brain is obviously still shocked into submission by my recent editing work.

So here are some pictures without words. Well, with a few words.

Bramble cage

Dead branches furred with lichen

Sprouted willow (at least, it looks like willow - I can't remember now what it was)

Mossed rock

Everything looks a lot brighter in the pictures than it did in reality - I think my new camera decided that the day was far too dingy and was trying to compensate.