After days of rain we discovered this furry blockade in the hallway. The sun was up and no one would be leaving the house without the dogs. We needed bread and the dogs needed daylight without getting wet.
Lola had a route planned, appropriate provisions were bought.
And some comfy rocks were found for some winter basking.
A good start to the day and so far very minimal pondering. Just dogs, coffee and a view.
I am a mucky watercolour painter. I am also a procrastinator, so sometimes I see disaster as a lovely excuse for a tidy-up. Yesterday afternoon I discovered something messy had occurred in my watercolour storage box. Despite needing to get on with a painting I set about resolving my disaster. Meanwhile, outside, my home city of Plymouth was dealing with a much more serious potential disaster.
BBC News – Plymouth WW2 bomb found in a garden, detonated at sea. Read link below.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-devon-68385962
The outdoor potential disaster had given me a few daylight hours to start a new painting. All waterfront areas were closed to the public, and many local roads. No trains, busses or ferries. The perfect excuse.
Paints all tidied up. My models were arranged.
And I began the painstaking task of painting and printing a cup of mint tea resting on a bistro table, standing on a tiled floor.
I think there is a delicious irony in painting a cup of calming mint tea; while not 500 yards from my home a bomb weighing over 1,000 pounds or 500kg is being towed out to sea.
Daylight failed me, eventually and I have not managed to finish. Just the dregs of the tea have been painted into the cup. Two disasters resolved successfully.
One day later and the job is done.
The extra blog. Unusually for me I woke up this morning with my cup less than half empty. 3 days early for Blue Monday my mood was definitely on the blue side of the mental health spectrum. No particular reason, some very small clouds on my horizons but nothing of consequence. The grumpies had arrived overnight. I am never too saddened by feeling glum as the artist in me knows that life and art is a combination of darks and lights. Feast and famine. Good days and less good days.
Blogging absolutely helps me pick out the high spots of daily life. But I am a free spirit and conforming, as I am, to the prompts of Bloganuary is not really my thing. I slightly dread the revelation of the prompt of the day.
But how to perk myself up?
1 Agree to go for a bob with the life affirming bobbers.
2 Write a random blog.
3 Put on my new, warm, fluffy socks.
4 Eat chocolate biscuits after the bob. Notice my cup is already more than half full.
5. Take steps in the sunshine to banish the grumpies.
Swimming in water at 10 degrees with an outside temperature of 6 degrees, blogging, fluffy socks or eating a chocolate digestive might not work for everyone but it is working for me.
Storm #3 of the storm season has had quite an impact.
Not perhaps in the way I may have thought though. Ciarán reminded a friend that I had painted Storm Agnes and wondered if she was for sale. She is as it happens and now she is off to a new home.
Storm Babet didn’t really impact us too much although she did take out the road to one of my regular beaches.
I know how I would paint Babet, a voluptuous storm, who caused chaos in an unexpected place with less energy than you would think. A storm directed from a chaise long perhaps.
Ciarán though, no clues in the name . Until I looked him up known as ‘ the little dark one’ Keir-on is how the weather forecasters pronounce the name. Ciarán is doing dramatic, theatrical stuff on our coast. Attention grabbing and flamboyant splashing and crashing on the outdoor lido, the sort of thing that gets you noticed. Hyperlocally Ciarán has been less wildly beautiful. More of a truculent bully, pushing over the bins and scattering domestic rubbish on the streets. Here he is just bashing the steps down to the tidal pool.
I have a little idea how he will be painted now. The little dark storm
This has been a week of catching up with friends, old, new and concurrent. And cementing a shared life with our middle granddaughter. I have also, thank goodness finally got some paint effectively on canvas. Which is important. As Sunday approaches I feel like this was a week of effective planning and delightful serendipity.
We found this fungus in an urban street tonight. When we left a friends house. Google lens suggests that it is a Dryads Saddle.
Which begs the question what is a Dryad and why might they need a saddle?
In Greek mythology, dryads, or hamadryads, are a tree-dwelling variety of nymphs believed to inhabit the forests, groves, and countryside of the ancient Greeks. Nymphs is a general term for lesser goddesses in the Greek pantheon, usually associated with the natural world and tied to places like streams, rivers, forests, and fields. As lesser goddesses, they did not wield the power of major goddesses like Artemis or Aphrodite. However, they were often described as influencing human emotions, evoking awe, wonderment, and fear as they looked at the natural world. Physically, they were believed to appear as beautiful young women.
No mention of needing a saddle, but maybe these urban Dryads simply catch a bus.
Mythology seems the way to go with this fungus because further investigation suggests that we could eat it and it would taste of watermelon peel. Which actually just sends me deeper down the rabbit hole. Whoever eats both fungus occurring on trees and watermelon and is able to compare and contrast their taste sensations.
As luck would have it we had eaten very well at our friends house and felt no urge to snack on a random fungus.
A late evening swim was required though. The moon was up and the sun was dipping below the horizon.
There was live music happening not too far away. A swim with the sounds of a Rod Stewart concert drifting in the breeze was an entirely good way to end the day.
Below, woman posing as a Dryad on a Dryads Saddle.
A day that started calmly with a yoga class just carried on being tranquil. Leaving the park we found some lovely old and blistered painted gates.
Park Yoga Plymouth
.
The picture at the top of the blog was created using an image of the cracked paint superimposed on my foot imprint left on my yoga mat.
Even the weeds created a lovely colour contrast.
And the cracks, as they always do, charmed me.
The day continued in tranquil mode when we went for a swim at Tranquility Bay. It was perhaps less than tranquil because two men had set up a barbeque on the steps leading into the sea and were having a two man Ibiza style party with a sound system. But our swim was fabulous. The following photographs show all the activity that happened in a one hour stay at Tranquility Bay
The Ibiza barbeque party took a turn towards the mellow when Pavane by Gabriele Faure replaced European House Music. Accompanied by the exact same dance that had accompanied the dance music. The scores of regular swimmers good- naturedly accepted the aural and visual embellishments to their regular swimming zone. Both created a memorable afternoon of unplanned entertainment.
Pavane below to ease you into the week.
Wind has been a feature of today’s activities. Today it is blowing in from the east.
East wind and a high tide can make swimming a little like spending time in a washing machine, at our normal beach. So Today I, once again, chose the secluded steps access to the sea, where there is a little shelter from an easterly wind. This time without interrupting a mourning family. See below ⬇️
#633 theoldmortuary ponders.
Wind was on my mind because, after swimming, I had two consecutive sessions of painting with two different groups. And I needed to finish a painting that features abstract shapes that represent the wind and Smeatons Tower, our local landmark Lighthouse.
To say I have become obsessed with painting the wind since living on a peninsular would be an understatement. I have even thought about getting a home weather station.
Now to excuse myself for a late blog. A timely blog would have happened between the first dog walking image and the second swimming image, but I met three different people I knew on the dog walk and, quite frankly talked too much.
1, Sweet Peas and their placement in a south facing garden with a neighbour.
2, A local anniversary fete with someone I only know by sight.
3, A road accident with a friend I haven’t seen since March.
Blogging time blown out of the water. I had a very quick turnaround to meet my swimming companion. Then we were both off to the same art group where talking and creating is the point of the whole thing. Networking would be the word. Very good for artists who largely work in isolation. We planned our next group exhibition.
Then off to meet the next group, predominantly crafters, at a cafe. It turns out I was at the wrong cafe but I met a friend who I had not seen for a few weeks and we caught up on a project that we had both been working on for a Tennis Club. Half an hour later, no crafters at the cafe and I Whatsapped them to see if the gathering had been cancelled.
I was in the wrong place!
Finally I reached the place where talking was always the plan. For once I was fairly quiet, but I did finish the wind painting.
When I was a small person someone who talked too much was given the derogatory title of a ‘right’or ‘old’ windbag.
On reflection I have definitely been that person today. Caught somewhere between being old, juvenile or pompous.
Or worse!
My father used a much less palatable description of the over-talkative and called chatty people ‘verbally incontinent’. He was himself a skilled listener and rather a wise bean.
How do you use windbag in a sentence?
She was a bit of a windbag, but chatterbox would be a kinder term, she did paint a good wind while she nattered.
Not the blog that I expected to write today but a fine example of not being able to always plan ahead.
When the weather is good and the tides favourable I often combine my evening dog walk with a quick, solitary dip. This is my favoured location for the evening plunge. Last night my favourite spot was empty as I arrived and I was quick to get in. Only moments later a family followed me down. There was no sun and the water was a little chilly so my plan was for a quick in and out. But at some point I glanced over my shoulder and saw the family were holding an informal memorial celebration and tossing long stemmed red roses into the sea.
I really had no option, despite the chilly ness, but to stay in the water and keep out of their moment of peace and tranquility.
Soon enough they left and the sea was quickly spreading the many roses, placed lovingly in the sea.
If only I had been a little later they could have had the place to themselves. This really is a perfect spot to remember and reflect on other realms and people who are loved.
The usual early morning view, but photographs don’t tell the whole story.
Out on the horizon and beyond there are warships taking part in Thursday Wars. A weekly Royal Navy plus others, event when war-like scenarios take place all around Plymouth Sound. What these tranquil views can’t show is the sound of rapid fire gunshots and weaponry being practiced out at sea. Conversely they also can’t show the amazing and constantly changing fragrances that were floating in the early morning air.
On mornings like this the dogs push for a longer walk than usual, if I am enchanted by the fragrances they are overblown by the smells of late Spring. Without dogs I would have been tempted to swim, but that is scheduled for this afternoon. But our extended walk did present a long anticipated treat.
A cinema is nearly ready to open close to home, no more schlepping out to a character-less box, on an entertainment park or going to the new but disorientating cinema in the city centre.Time to enjoy films and the experience of being at the cinema.
And after the dog walk, breakfast of a spinach smoothie while doing some window-box care.
May is my favourite month.
The after-glow of a successful Open Garden event greeted me yesterday evening. Whilst on holiday in Thailand and Hong Kong I still ran the Social Media posts for a National Garden Scheme, Open Gardens event in Stonehouse. Trusty photographers sent me photos of the plants, visitors, cakes and musicians taking part in the two day event. My Social Media posting was both one step removed and half a world away. On my return last night I took a few minutes,and a cup of mint tea, to enjoy the calm of the space in post-party mood. The space was also gearing up to host a social evening of croquet and nattering in the evening sun.
The events of the weekend were a success and there has been praise and thanks to everyone who contributed their time and skills to making the event a success.
This rose, that clambers near the public toilet block, was full of perfume for everyone to enjoy. While the Arum lily enjoyed some evening shade.
Part of the charm of these gardens and Tennis Club is the amazing location.
Even the wild flowers put out a good effort over the weekend and yesterday evening.
As did the daisies in the club itself. Skilful mowing had allowed islands of daisies to play a part in the weekend of horticultural show-offery.
An English garden on a May evening is hard to beat. I wish I could look this good after a weekend of partying.
theoldmortuary.design 