And so it begins. The dogs are on a mini-break in Cornwall and our train has just crossed Brunel’s rail bridge taking us on an adventure into the rest of the world. Home-made coffee in hand, thank goodness, as the buffet car has failed to make an appearance for this train. There are plans for today but we are also allowing serendipity to guide us. How exciting.
Storm Pia arrived on the longest night of the year in Stonehouse . She wasn’t particularly expected in this neck of the woods but must have had a change of heart and blew up trouble for Cornwall and the Tamar Valley. She had a powerful strength about her.
20 mile an hour winds with gusts of 48mph made our chimneys and fire- places scream like banshees. There is a lovely security in living in a house that is 150 years old and has seen many a storm and survived a very close brush with German World War ll bombs. Pia was able to do her psychedelic worst and we could just feel snug indoors.
I always feel a huge sense of relief once the longest night has passed. However grim the winter gets we are heading towards the light and that can only be a good thing.
Yule is associated with the Winter Solstice, so in the northern hemisphere, this Sabbat is celebrated around December 21st.
Yule Traditions and Symbols
When the days got shorter and colder, candles and bonfires were lit, and everyone gathered to lure the sun back. Everyone brought food and enjoyed the feast during the festival. They danced, sang, and decorated their homes. These traditions are very similar to what we call Christmas.
“…This is the solstice, the still point
of the sun, its cusp and midnight,
the year’s threshold
and unlocking, where the past
lets go and becomes the future; – Margaret Atwood
Unexpected twinkle. Yesterday I took the car for a thorough wash and brush up. I realise that sometimes celebrating serendipity is perhaps a little improbable but this little diamond heart was laying on the floor of the garage where the hand-wash men work their magic.
Blogging requires me to use a tracking system for my photos so I have a level of proof of my serendipitous finds.
Car cleaning was predicted to take an hour so the dogs and I went for a wander in the backstreets nearby. Somewhat unkindly I looked at this building and thought that there was not much chance of this particular Phoenix rising any time soon.
Only to discover that this Phoenix had led quite a fabulous life in the past.
Not only fabulous but curiously thought provoking . It’s one thing to be a good skater capable of winning competitions but getting the prize home, a live chicken or pig, would seriously impede celebration.
Until yesterday I was unaware Plymouth was an International Mecca for roller skating. My local district, Stonehouse had 3 rinks. 9 in total for the city of Plymouth. Books have been written about it.
Link below to more info.
Rather an interesting hour while my car was getting twinkly.
And so the December days get shorter and darker but the white cows have gotten a whole lot brighter. These cows are a nod to the original function of the area of the Royal William Yard where they can be found. Historically cows were delivered here to be slaughtered and then packed onto Royal Navy Ships. The dogs are thrilled that the cows are unbelievable colours, so much less scary. Before the curious cows cropped up, this blog was going to be about the comforting colours that can be found in an open fire. I could not have predicted cows in shades of pink and orange. I am ignoring the green one. I searched for old photos that made me feel warm, just by looking at them. I hope they make you feel snug. Apart from the green cow of course.
This pink and orange was at a festival in Hong Kong.
This shot was a pocket image when I was wearing orange linen.
These are feathers I found at Borough Market and the one below is an abstract painting of Plymouth Barbican in the festive season.
And the red monks below were walking in a park in Seoul.
The vivid wall below was at Tate Modern a few years ago.
And finally Tulips .
Below, the cows in less gaudy times.
Busy waters @theoldmortuary HQ. The first of our Christmas family have arrived. Who knows when I will snatch blogging moments for the next couple of weeks. Contact will be maintained but when I can slip into the blogspace is going to be more serendipitous than usual.
I love this image of an iconic British phone box. Familiar as a symbol but represented in a neglected and dilapidated space. The half hour or so when I research and write the blog are a daily piece of quietude. Inside the blogspace is a meditative and peaceful zone. The inside of these old phone boxes were a similar sanctuary where we would communicate with unseen people just as I am now. Even in busy waters.
Quinces have been an unusual favourite fruit for some time, probably since I was about 5 and aware that my grandparents were often to be found,in the autumn, cooking the very fragrant fruit in a load of different ways. The tree of a neighbour always provided a glut of the lumpy apple shaped fruit. How thrilled was I when my beady eyes alighted on the word Quince on a trip to the local coffee shop.
Then, as if by magic, a newspaper recipe also included Quince.
I’ve tried growing a Quince tree in both London and Cornwall. An epic failure on both counts. But recent success at making my own Quince Jelly makes me think I should try again in my backyard in Devon. Maybe it will be the third time lucky.
I love a mirror selfie. The one above was entirely accidental. I was photographing a card design on my workbench and accidentally flipped to the actual selfie mode and photographed myself in the mirror ball that hangs in the window of my studio. I am the pixelated orange blob in the centre of the mirrorball.
In Venice recently, my feet put in an appearance on an Arnaldo Pomodoro , Sphere Within a Sphere, sculpture. The rest of me is lost in a dark crevice.
And in Dublin I embellished the same sculptors work a year ago
Back in Venice I doubled myself onto an unnamed sculpture by Anish Kapoor.
Yesterday I had to remove myself from my own painting to include it in the blog. Here is the original, a highly glossy resin piece.
I dressed the part to visit a Yayoi Kusama installation in Hong Kong
But most times the reflection is unavoidable. Here I am hanging with Mick, as you do.
The serendipity of this blog is that it is two years since the last blog course I attended. The final piece of advice given by my chosen mentor was to put more of myself in the blogs. He absolutely did not mean visually. He wanted to hear my voice in my writing. Any sort of self exposure feels a bit awkward, written or visual but I have tried to take his advice and after two years I am finding the whole thing a bit easier. She says, pulling a quizzical face.
How can I share the joy of a plunge in cold, clean, seawater or indeed the joy of plunging generally.
In life I am a plunger. I love the word. It begins with an upbeat feeling and then ends with a soft J-like sound that feels like a cuddle.
I don’t plunge without regard to safety or without a good bit of research. Plunging is an immersive experience.
If plunge was a Danish word I could see it being trendy in the way hygge has.
To plunge is to do something whole heartedly.
This morning I plunged into the sea. It was breathtaking and wonderful.
A long time ago I painted a plunge. The moment a hand cleaves into water.
In the header photograph I took an image of the inside of a plastic water bottle. The small amount of warm colours merging into crisp blues is another way of trying to depict the act or experience of the moment of peak plunge.
At this point serendipity hits. Last night we quickly left a Christmas music event to head to the Barbican in Plymouth for a different event. The Christmas lights were a fabulous likeness to my water bottle image.
As you can see from these two images the Barbican was full of people intent on ‘ making a night of it’ in the run up to Christmas.
No big deal you might think but here is a plunge into history. Southside Street and the even older New Street which runs parallel and slightly higher; both lead to Sutton Harbour and existed in some form from about 700AD. When Anglo-Saxon mariners settled here trading goods and fish. Greatly developed in the Medieval periods, the pubs, alehouses and brothels would have seen festive drinkers and pleasure seekers making merry at this time of year. For pagan festivals initially, and then for the conveniently timed Christian Festival of Christmas from about the 10th century. Any excuse to banish the glumness of extra long dank and dark nights in a Northern Hemisphere winter.
This contemporary image of groups of people moving from pub/bar/alehouse seeking pleasure in late December is so timeless it slightly unnerves me . Oh to be a time traveller in this area, with appropriate vaccinations. Plunging through history…
Only a week until the Winter Solstice and the shortest day in the Northern Hemisphere. I am not a fan of the shorter days of winter. Dark by 6pm is just about tolerable with daybreak at about 8am and is about as long a night as I need in winter.The extra shortness of days in December and January are, to me, unacceptable.The hours not in darkness should be cold, crisp and bright with sunshine. Is that too much to ask for?
Despite disliking the short day aspect of December and January I have never actively sought out winter sun to break the mood. I am drawn to the folklore around a Northern Hemisphere Winter Solstice. I find it fabulously creative and intriguing, but the further north you go the shorter the days are. Not for me. My perfect trip at this time of year would need to be further South but hold something of the darker aspects of the Winter Solstice. Greece turns out to be perfect for my needs. At this time of year. They have the Kallikantzaros, mythical bad lads, not dissimilar to trolls or gnomes. Slightly longer days and sea water at a temperature that I would happily swim in certainly sweetens the deal.
Which takes me to the answer for today’s prompt.
What cities do you want to visit?
Nafplion is already a favourite city for three seasons of visits, now I have discovered that winter can provide me with angry, hairy creatures at Winter Solstice, there really is no reason not to visit in December.
No reason not to park overlooking the sea.
No reason not to enjoy a coffee in a back street.
And no reason not to enjoy a Greek sunset in December.
With the possibility of meeting some mythical angry, hairy creatures. Winter solstice goals all in the one small, Greek city.
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