Posted in from the dark room, photography, tagged tokyo on September 13, 2008| 4 Comments »
In the subway station at Ikebukuro, Tokyo, market stalls come and go, flourishing for a day, then gone again. This one at the foot of the escalator was selling clothes. It seemed out of place there to me, but probably seems perfectly normal to the local commuters.
Notice the interesting English phrase indicating the huge discounts available…….”Big Off!”
Posted in from the dark room, photography, tagged architecture, japan, tokyo on September 12, 2008| 4 Comments »
Do a search on this blog for “ben ledi” and you’ll see the kind of view I’m used to. Then you’ll realise what a culture shock it is to wake up and see this …….
When I first looked out of the hotel window here in Ikebukuro I could only see the vastness of it all. And the fact that as far as I could see there were only buildings. But then I zoomed my camera in on some of the detail.
This is something you see a lot in Tokyo – an old building surrounded on all sides by tall new ones – like a wee oasis!
Parking must be a nightmare in Tokyo – can you make out the multi-storey parking lot? Do you think they park the cars sideways to get more in?
Can you see the tennis courts?
This building is right opposite my hotel. The little rail track running around the rim fascinates me. But I haven’t spotted any trains yet!
Posted in from the dark room, photography, tagged poetry on September 4, 2008| Leave a Comment »
I looked out the window this morning and saw this. And outside the temperature of the air has taken a dip – 7 degrees C it said on the car dashboard. I’m guessing Autumn’s arrived. It’s funny but years and years after I was taught poetry lessons at school I still can’t see a scene like this without hearing in my head –
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Here’s the whole poem –
Keats. To Autumn
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
II
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
III
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Funny how the swallows were twittering hundreds of years before people started doing it!
Posted in from the dark room, photography on September 1, 2008| 1 Comment »
You’ll have seen a few of the photos I’ve taken in the garden of Glasgow Homeopathic Hospital on this blog. I’m very lucky to work in such a lovely environment. But look at these guys! How would you like to work where they work?!
Posted in from the dark room, photography on September 1, 2008| 1 Comment »
What’s this?
A UFO?
Well, no. It’s one of the platform lights at Stirling station.
Do you ever do this? Look at something you see every day and imagine it’s something completely different?
(well, it passes the time while waiting for a train!)
Posted in from the dark room, photography, tagged flowers on August 26, 2008| 1 Comment »
Rudbeckia are from the Aster family. These ones growing the garden at Glasgow Homeopathic Hospital (GHH) struck me as particularly lovely.
Posted in from the dark room, life, photography, tagged nature on August 24, 2008| 1 Comment »
Which of these creatures inspires you? What, if anything, could you learn from them?
Posted in from the dark room, photography on August 23, 2008| 1 Comment »
Why do I love to see rainwater on leaves so much?
Don’t know, really, but I sure do. Same with flowers actually. In fact, although we tend to think of rain as “bad weather” and have a good moan about it, rainy weather is good photography weather. There’s something about the light of an overcast sky which seems to intensify colour, but it’s how water changes the surface and the appearance of things which captures my attention.
The droplets look like jewels, sparkling, shining, and adorning the plant. Don’t you put on your best jewels for special occasions? If Nature does too, then rainy days must be special days.
Posted in from the dark room, photography on August 22, 2008| 1 Comment »
I took these rowan berries in the garden of Glasgow Homeopathic Hospital this week. The rowan berries are plentiful in Scotland this year. Folklore has it that lots of rowan berries mean it’s going to be a hard winter. Scientists say, of course, that this isn’t true, and it seems these days that Scotland doesn’t have seem to have distinct seasons, only loads of weather!
The other piece of folklore about the rowan tree is that it was used to make magician’s wands, dowser’s wands and druid’s staves. It had a reputation for being able to protect you from witches and enchantment.
Posted in from the dark room, life, photography on August 15, 2008| 3 Comments »
I love seeds. They fascinate me. Once you see which plant produces which seed then you can look at a seed and imagine how it might turn out if it finds fertile ground and grows to maturity. But if you look at a seed which comes from a plant you’ve never seen before, it is totally impossible to imagine the mature plant which lies as only a potential inside this seed.
Maybe it’s just the way my mind works, but I often think the same thing when I look at a baby. What potential lies in this little one? How will they be as a fully grown adult? It’s astonishing really.
Heroes Not Zombies 