Tuesday, 16 May 2017

The Good Thing About Rainy Days

On this island we are by nature sun lovers* because we live in Britain and we don’t see a lot of it. The tiniest ray of warm peeping out behind a cloud and we’re out in the garden with picnic blankets and pimms trying our best to photosynthesise like the little, overly-polite and personal-space loving pot plants that we are. I had the fortune to spend this weekend at a delightful friend’s wedding in Cheltenham and we had fun grilling the Texan’s about whether they ever got tired of the sun. Apparently people CAN tire of the sunshine. Could you believe that? After weeks of a pretty decent and unexpected bout of sunshine most unprecedented in April, the clouds found us again and the grey came back. Sky water decended and life went back to normal. 

*There are also people out there on this island who don’t enjoy sunshine. These people are possibly vampires. If you are one of these people and believe you are not a vampire, it would be advisable to consult your nearest doctor and book an appointment just to be sure. Especially if you have a fondness for red coloured foods and beverages. 

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

The Peculiar White Cliffs: Adventures at Old Harry Rocks

Hello! Welcome back to something a bit more in the usual spirit of the Salty Sea Blog. I can't keep dragging this space down with lamentations of sad break up feels so it's time to revert back to some sort of normality here and share a recent exploration. Today we are venturing to a spot of different coastline, one quite different to my own dearest playground of pirate coves and crumbling scrubby cliffs that are to be found in South Cornwall. The White Chalk Cliffs are a sight that has fascinated me somewhat over the last few years and one of my favourite features of quintessentially English countryside. You won't find this sort of coastline where I'm from and there is something so compelling and attractive about it; the colour pallets of white on aquamarine with the little caps of bright green grass, it's just something I've always found charming since the first time I saw them. I've looked for excuses time and time again to photograph the chalk cliffs and got my first chance last summer when I went to Beachy Head near Eastbourne further up the south coast in the East. This weekend, I got my second chance when I visited Dorset and spent the Sunday doing exactly what perfect Sunday's are for in my world: sunny afternoon explores & frolicking by the sea. 


Tuesday, 28 March 2017

Changing Winds

Spring has come in on the breeze like the smell of magnolia & apple blossom and with it, brought warmth, peace & a confidence that all will right itself soon. 

Thursday, 9 March 2017

Goodbye, Friend

"How can somebody mean so much to you one day and become nobody the next?"


Saturday, 21 January 2017

Moon & Mor

It's not often I find myself day dreaming of winter days during the summer months, but if I do, I dream of days like today. I have very mixed opinions of January, we are such a quarrelsome pair. But we're learning to live with each other and respect each other. Kind of. Maybe. Sort of. 

Sunday, 1 January 2017

Nadelik Lowen: Eve

I suppose it's a bit late now. I had intended to share a documentary of our Christmas day; how we rose, and celebrated and rested. But when I woke up that morning, I knew I didn't want to pick up my camera, I didn't want to record moments, I wanted to live only in them. So I logged off for the day, or a couple of days, or a week.


Wednesday, 14 December 2016

The Book of December: Life Lately

On Sunday, I woke just before dawn. I was early enough to hear the cockerel crowing and the sloping valley in front of the farm was drowned beneath a blanket of winter mist. I crept out of the house and started my car, the rumble of the engine sounding so unnatural and perverse on this silent morning. That Sunday was enchanting. I drove to Dartmoor for the first time to meet a good friend (known fondly as Abble Pie by me) who got engaged a few months back and to take some photographs for her and her fiance, D. The drive up there was beyond beautiful and therapeutic and I'm going to use the word 'serendipitous' here for the first time. Everything about that morning was accidentally perfect and any winter blues that I may have been feeling were dissolved by the comeliness of the landscape on a midwinter's morn. It seemed Cornwall itself was sleeping beneath the mists and as I drove up hills, I rose out of it to be greeted by clear blue skies and to witness the world as one sees it from an airplane; beneath an ocean of cloud, with the odd wind turbine and families of trees peeping through the fog. I wish I could have photographed those moments. I was overcome by the sheer perfection and serenity in the moment, to see the sun like a golden orb gleaming behind the haze of the sea fog, to see the hills rise like islands above the clouds and to be listening to the Sunday morning folk sessions on radio two. I wept like a babe to the sounds of Kate Rusby and the sight of a world I barely felt worthy of witnessing, a special world reserved for one winter's morning a year at the crack of dawn.

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