lily of the incas [helmingham hall, helmingham, suffolk, england, 2017]
A cluster of Alstroemeria, commonly known as Peruvian lily or lily of the Incas, that I photographed at Helmingham Hall during a visit with my parents in summer 2017.
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I have a feeling of déjà vu, wondering where June went, just as I did in mid-May, wondering where April had gone.
I mean, I know where it went. I lived it. But life took me away from sharing work here.
Since my last "life" update, I've completed the two-week sitting with Chilli in Moulsecoomb, Brighton, that I mentioned in that post.
I have never been happier to travel during a heatwave because I learned from the Met Office app before heading away that Brighton was a good few degrees cooler than London for the following week. Not as good as Scott and Shirley's experience in Cornwall, where it was a case of "Heatwave? What heatwave?!" I think I only had to turn their fan on while I worked two to three times during the whole stay.
I arrived on Friday evening in the middle of a heatwave to find it was one of the select few nights within the past three years that the Bella Ciao pizza van wasn't in the vicinity. They were doing a roaring trade at a music festival, instead. I replaced my usual homemade pizzas (not every night!) with their tasty fare.
Chilli was such a lovely kitteh to hang out with, spending most of each morning into the early to mid-afternoon lazing on the dining table within arms' reach for comforting, sensory pets whenever I needed it (which was often; it was a stressful couple of weeks).
In the afternoon, he would wander off into the yard. Sometimes hanging out with other neighbourhood cats. Who I photographed, of course, where I could.
In the evening and breaks during my work day, he would settle on my lap or legs as I lounged on the sofa. Never settling for long, but purring with approval while I pet him.
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I hibernated during the day after my arrival, as it was still about 30 degrees. But the following day, I set off with my camera across Bevendean Down Nature Reserve towards the village of Falmer.
Scott introduced me to the Outdoor Active app before I set out and shared a recent walk he'd taken across the downs, so I had some sense of where I was going. I tracked my walk so you can see it if you're interested.
I took a lot of photos with my D700 and some with my iPhone during the walk. It was a pleasant way to clear my head, passing by a mixture of overgrown paths, open fields, cows, sheep, woodland-type environments, a quaint village, a busy motorway and ending in a rabbit-warren of a pub (and somehow completely missing the model train above the bar - I blame my height).
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The following weekend, I coaxed two friends down from London to visit Lewes. My primary knowledge of the town was from Scott's photos of their Bonfire Night parades, which I still haven't managed to experience firsthand.
We visited Lewes Castle and Museum, wandered the streets, traipsed across town to the former village of Cliffe and the Snowdrop Inn (named after a deadly 1836 avalanche, which was, unfortunately, shut for a private function), and wound up in the Beak Brewery, under the looming chalk cliff face of Cliffe Hill.
The following day, I climbed another hill (Brighton is not short on hills - Encyclopedia Britannica explains why hills are "downs" in that part of England, which I admit somewhat confusticated me until I read why) to visit some of Brighton's cemeteries. As Scott observed, almost all of Brighton's cemeteries are in his vicinity, the exceptions being Hove and Portslade Cemeteries.
Despite setting out late in the day, I visited the Brighton Jewish Cemetery, Woodvale Crematorium, Woodvale Cemetery and Extra Mural Cemetery before popping into The Gladstone pub and The Bear Inn to quench my thirst and get a reprieve from the sun on my way back to Scott's.
With Brighton's unofficial recognition as the LGBTQIA+ capital of Britain, I was disappointed that The Bear Inn wasn't full of bears. Maybe I was there at the wrong time of day.
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Ironically, having spent two weeks there, I didn't manage to visit Brighton proper at all during my stay.
I had entertained the thought of attending a screening of the 1920s film version of Nosferatu with a live score at the Duke of York cinema. But life worked against me on that one.
I also thought I might have a chance to do some long-overdue clothes and shoe shopping, and perhaps even seek out some collage materials. But, alas, no luck.
In my week at home between sittings, I managed to catch up with the lovely Sarah Jansen for a sedate but verbose (on both sides!) evening in a couple of Camden pubs while she was briefly in town. It was lovely to see her on my side of the world for the first time since 2011, although we have managed to meet up twice in Australia in the interim.
As I write this, I recall that I have some charming portraits I took of her on her last visit to London that I haven't yet edited, for some inscrutable reason (well, mostly due to a lack of time).
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Earlier in the month, I had my first sitting with my regulars since early May. It was lovely to have cuddles with Lily again while I rewatched season one of The Deuce before catching up on the second and third seasons (the third season is still in progress). The season one soundtrack is brilliant.
In addition to hanging out with Lily, Sammy, Poppy, Oscar (all cats) and Charlie (a hamster), I popped in to feed their neighbours, George and Lottie, for a few days. I fed Sabine's new fish in her pond, navigated Ollie's varying moods when he came to visit, and was hissed at by Ollie's sister, Lola (she was a showgirl... 🎶) when I dared say hello to her at the patio door.
I arrived home to a letter from the hospital that confirmed the probable diagnosis a registrar gave me in November for a health issue I've been dealing with for about three years. It's something of a relief to have a definitive answer, finally, but the psychological impact of living with the symptoms for such a long time will take more time to resolve.
And, in but a few days, I get to spend a couple of weeks with my favourite doggo, Frank! I can't wait to share in his excessive emotional response to my arrival (it's very much mutual), savour his cuddles, chuckle at him playing dead when I return to the bedroom after my shower, and share his contagious happiness with others.
The summer silly season of sittings is about to start. I'll have two nights at home between sitting Frank and my regulars and another two nights between my regulars and my excitable puppers in Bishop's Stortford, before the post-holiday lull.
I'm looking forward to the mental health benefits all the cuddles with my feline and canine pals bring. I'm not as keenly anticipating the potential heat the rest of summer will bring. But at least the homes I'll be staying in are better designed to handle said heat than my cosy loft studio.
And I have a five-night stay in Finland to plan, as a treat for myself at the end of my crazy summer of sittings.
In the meantime, I hope to get back into the swing of regular posting. Thank you for staying with me x
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I photographed this Iris × germanica at Knebworth House on Sunday while visiting as part of a day trip out of London for my good friend Sophie's birthday.
It may not be evident in the photos when saved for the web, but they shimmered like the frosted flowers you might find on a wedding cake. I thought perhaps I imagined it in the moment, but you can see it in the high-resolution photographs I took, and Wikipedia mentions 'sparkling whites' amongst the colours they may be.
Bearded irises are commonly grown in Muslim cemeteries, according to Wikipedia.
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A very belated Happy New Year to you, my dear patrons.
I'm sorry (once again) for the radio silence.
The end of 2024 was voraciously consumed with move-related activity and kittehs, leaving me no time to assemble my usual end-of-year wrap-up blog.
I still intend to write and share one, but I have many photos to edit to bring it together, and January has somehow already disappeared into the rearview. How is that possible?
I hope 2025 will be a better one for me. And for you, if 2024 was hard.
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The state of the world worries me deeply. In case you haven't heard, the Doomsday Clock ticked one second closer to midnight with the swearing-in of Drumpf as the 47th US President, the ongoing wars around this globe we call Earth, and the continued inaction of many world leaders in tackling climate change.
I'll be honest: it's hard to have hope some days.
But I do have hope. And plans. And I continue to see the beauty in the world and the people in my life despite everything.
I hope you do, too.
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I would tell you all about the plans and inspiration whirling around my head. But I feel like, every time I mention my creative plans, I must push them aside while I fight another personal metaphorical fire.
So, instead, I will simply promise to share as much as I can when I can and hope you'll stay with me.
In the meantime, hopefully, these photographs of China roses I found in the front garden of a home in Grove Park last June will remind you of the beauty in the world.
When it all feels overwhelming, stop, take a deep breath and smell the roses.
sweet pea
A Lathyrus odoratus plant in one of my client's gardens.
dog daisy afternoon
I promise you, I've been taking more photos than you can poke a stick at.
However, I haven't had a chance to edit anything for weeks, so I'm sharing this photograph from the same client's garden I shared my last two from, edited about 20 days ago.
As I highlighted in a previous post, I had a weekend with my regulars from 6-10 September.
I had a delightful three-night stay (and lots of cheese with ash and flowers!) (that doesn't sound so appetising when I type it out) from 12-15 September on the Isle of Portland in Dorset with my fellow photographer and friend, Phil.
And I spent the better part of last week playing tour guide to Dad and Cheryl while they were in London.
I can't complain about any of it.
That's not to say - for reasons I won't go into here and now - that it's all been smooth sailing and that I'm not physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted. I am.
Between Dad and Cheryl's continuing travels, trying to find a new flatmate and three sittings in October, I don't think my stress levels will drop much.
Despite that, I hope to share photos that aren't flowers with you from my recent travels very soon, some other creative outputs, and maybe even catch up on some sleep.
We'll see.
I hope you're all staying well, hugging those you love and doing what you love as much as possible.
These beauties are Leucanthemum vulgare, also known as ox-eye daisy, dog daisy and marguerite.
As with many of the flowers I've been drawn to photograph, dog daisies are deemed an invasive species in many places, including my native country.
However, ox-eye daisies are widely recognised as the national flower in Denmark, and apparently, "the unopened flower buds can be marinated and used in a similar way to capers". Mmm... capers.
Cows don't fancy eating them, though. And those that do "produce milk with an undesirable flavour".
used for garlands
Some Lychnis coronaria or Silene coronaria, also known as rose campion, photographed in summer in one of my pet-sitting client's gardens.
According to Wikipedia, 'The Latin coronaria means "used for garlands"'.
crocosmia
It's been a hectic couple of months.
I've barely been home since the afternoon of Thursday, 4 July.
I pulled an all-nighter with a friend of over 24 years and a friend of fewer than 12 hours to watch the Tories finally thrown out of government after 14 years.
The following day, I went to sit my regulars in Bromley.
On the afternoon of 9 July, I went home for a night, with some back and forth and final prep for a sitting with new clients, Crikey (Cockapoo), Lottie (Staffy Shitzu cross), Dexter (tuxedo cat), Sammy (tabby cat) and Rebecca (fish) starting the following afternoon.
They were a delight, as was Julia's garden, where I photographed this crocosmia.
I managed to give myself food poisoning from eating black beans too long after opening, which wiped me out for a good nine hours or so the night before the sitting ended. I haven't had stomach cramps that bad since I was a tween, and I hope I never do again.
I had two nights at home before spending about a week and a half with my arch nemesis, Mia (tabby cat), in Crofton Park. She's mellowed somewhat with age (she's three now), but she's still very standoffish and swipey with everyone except her cat-mother.
I finally managed to ogle and photograph the exterior of houses at Segal Close and Walters Way, though I'm sorry to find that homes in Walters Way will be open this year as part of Open House London on a day I'm not in London.
I had another couple of nights at home before sitting my favourite, very good boy, Frank (Cockapoo), for about a week and a half.
Whilst sitting him, I managed to completely miss a step with my foot between the bedroom and bathroom and take two steps simultaneously with my lower left back, just above my hip, and my left shoulder.
Thankfully, applying ice and going back to bed for a couple of hours with Frank as my nursemaid, followed by a dose of ibuprofen, meant I minimised the bruising, and we could still go out for our morning walk.
The next day was less successful, as I woke with a sore neck, bruised shoulder and a dull headache and couldn't take Frank out. We did manage a sedate afternoon walk once the painkillers had taken the edge off and allowed me to move my left arm more freely.
The following day - a previously planned day of annual leave - my injuries had improved, and I could take Frank with me to meet Scott at the Railway Fields Nature Reserve by Harringay Green Lanes Overground Station as planned.
Frank was ecstatic to have a short bus journey, make a new friend, explore a new green space (albeit on a lead), take a short train journey, and spend a little time at the Great Northern Railway Tavern whilst Scott and I had a couple of pints and a long natter, some of which about the Welsh language I've been learning.
I went straight from sitting Frank to my regulars plus one.
The new addition, a hamster called Karl-Heinz (Charlie, for short), is very cute and amicable but keen on chewing at the bars of his cage. As he's nocturnal (like me), and his cage is quite close to where I sit to work and do creative things while I sit my regulars, I found this quite stressful, but his hamster-mother is pursuing avenues to make him more comfortable in his home (or rather, mansion).
I had another night at home before heading up to Bishop's Stortford, where I am now, to sit Betsy (Cockapoo) and Dudley (Maltipoo). Both are very good-natured and sweet puppers, but Dudley was a lockdown pup and has related issues, which means he's very reactive to other dogs and...well, everything.
But we've managed two weeks together and have another to go, and I love the snuggles we have, the fact they love sleep as much as I do (when I finally do go to bed), and their little quirks (just maybe with less barking ;) ).
My friend, Khanisa, also enjoyed meeting them, and we managed an enjoyable in-person catch-up on Saturday despite the persistent rain. I had a positive virtual catch-up with Dad in the wee hours yesterday morning and a good telephone catch-up with Phil yesterday evening.
This afternoon, on our last Bank Holiday before Christmas and after almost two weeks in the town, I managed to get out and about with my camera for a photo walk from where I'm sitting the pups, down along the town's edge to Castle Park (the remains of Waytemore Castle), along the Stort Navigation (the canalised section of the River Stort that runs through town), then back through town via the supermarket.
I'll share at least one photo from my walk with you in the next couple of days; all going to plan.
I head home next Tuesday. I have three nights at home before I head down to stay with my regulars.
Then, I'll have two nights at home before heading to the Isle of Portland in Dorset for a long weekend of photography with Phil. We've found a lovely Airbnb on the island to use as a base, and it promises to be a great place to explore with our cameras.
Dad and Cheryl arrive the following week, so I'll be playing tour guide with them and sightseeing around London.
I have a week of 'downtime' (or at least time without sittings or visitors) at the end of September, then three sittings in October before things quiet down a bit more in the lead-up to Christmas.
In amongst all that, I have to do a thorough clean of my flat (with my current flatmate's help), try to downsize my stuff (in progress and tougher than it seems), find a new flatmate, and try to catch up on photo editing and other creative outputs (I had hoped the bank holiday weekend would have helped with the latter, but I had to prioritise cleaning dog puke out of bedding and some other bits yesterday).
On the positive side, the first Friday I was with Frank, a neighbour offered an early 2015 Macbook Air for free to anyone who might want it and could reinstall the OS to make use of it. I saw the post immediately after shared and nabbed it for myself.
It's a little slow, can't run the latest versions of everything, can't run InDesign, and it's only a 13" model. But it can run most things to the level I need when away, and most importantly, it can connect with my primary external drive, so it's been perfect for three weeks away from home where it's completely impractical (specifically, due to expense) to bring my iMac.
Hopefully, it'll serve my purpose for six to twelve months. And I think it's demonstrated to me so far that - as long as I'm just looking for a portable machine, not a replacement for my iMac - a MacBook Air (vs a Macbook Pro) is a practical option to take away alongside my work laptop.
Thanks, as always, for sticking around through this slow period here (because of my busy period outside Patreon) x
dog rose [grove park nature reserve, grove park, london, england, 2024]
I captured this rosa canina, commonly known as dog rose, and bearing the fruit, rose hip (though not fruiting when I photographed it) on my walk past Grove Park Nature Reserve to Hither Green Cemetery earlier in the month.
There are various theories for the origins of the plant's name. As you might imagine, my favoured one (though likely not scientifically proven) is that the plant can cure the bite of a mad or rabid dog.
untitled #10 [grove park nature reserve, grove park, london, england, 2024]
As with many flowers and plants, it's the county flower in one country (Hampshire, England) and an invasive weed in others (NZ and Australia).
But it is pretty.
marguerite in bud
purity and innocence [helmingham hall, helmingham, suffolk, england, 2017]
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allium giganteum [helmingham hall, helmingham, suffolk, england, 2017]
Some allium giganteum, or giant onions, I photographed in Helmingham Hall's gardens in June 2017, the last time my parents visited the UK.
Not the edible kind of onions. But the bees like them, and they're pretty.
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camellia japonica [st peter’s church, delamere, cheshire, england, 2024]
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blossoms against bricks [glasgow, scotland, 2024]
pyrus communis
Flowers of the common pear tree, captured on my photo walk from Delamere to Kelsall last month.
pyrus communis and bee
of gorse [great orme, llandudno, wales, 2024]
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untitled #112 [hitchin, north hertfordshire, england, 2024]
Some Prunus cerasifera flowers I captured last Saturday during a solo photo walk in Hitchin.
Spring is coming.
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untitled #111 [hitchin, north hertfordshire, england, 2024]
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So, it's been a year since Mum passed. Well, kind of.
I mean, she died at 06:10 on 1 March 2023 AEDT, but for me, that means her time of death was actually 19:10 GMT on 28 February 2023.
So, for me, that should mean the anniversary of her passing was on 28 February 2024.
Except that this year is a leap year, so 06:10 AEDT on 1 March 2024 was 19:10 GMT on 29 February 2024.
Confused yet?
If I base the anniversary on the date she passed away in Australia (as that's where she was), then I'm posting this late. But it's still only 1 March 2024 here in London, so I guess I get longer to mark the anniversary.
Has anyone noticed I possess a certain sentimentality and a penchant for marking such important dates at precisely the right moment?
Though I didn't have a chance to post about it at either of the potentially recognised moments, it's been on my mind for some time, particularly during the evening on 28 February when it felt like I should acknowledge the passing of a year since her death.
Dad and I acknowledged the anniversary within the hour of her passing on 1 March 2024, his time, in our family WhatsApp chat.
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Yesterday afternoon, a little before and a little after my day's sitting with Francois ended, and before I left for my first sitting of the year with my regulars, I edited these two photos to share with this post acknowledging the anniversary.
Although I don't think she had any particular preference for daffodils (I don't remember them appearing often within bouquets she bought or received), her death will now be inextricably linked to them in my mind because of her passing on St David's Day and, in particular, because of her Welsh ancestry.
So, I was already thinking ahead to today when I photographed these two specimens in Frank's backyard the last weekend I sat him in mid-February. Knowing there would be photographs of daffodils as part of my tribute to her this year, as I have access to very few photos of her, and most I've already shared. While thinking ahead to the date and time conundrum as the impact of this leap year had already occurred to me by then.
One thing I didn't get to do while I was visiting Dad was to pore over their photo albums. Two weeks isn't a long time when you're working part-time, sorting through your deceased mother's personal effects and catching up with family you haven't seen in person in about three years.
I didn't know how I would feel one year on. If I'm honest, I still don't.
I mean, there's definitely been a sea of emotions surging around me for the past week or so.
I initially hoped to write my thoughts on the "exact" anniversary (for me). But practical matters had to be dealt with. So, instead, I sort of softly welled up thinking about it without having the time or capacity to put the feelings into words. But knowing I would when I could.
I know it's cliched to say it feels like less than a year, but in the same breath, to say it feels more than a year. But it does.
It's been less than a year since we said goodbye as a family and scattered her ashes.
It's been more than a year since she and I last spoke. Or rather, I spoke to her, as she didn't have many words left by then.
So, the passing of time since her passing has been warped and bent. Though that's not uncommon. I know others feel similarly about the passing of their loved ones, even without the added confusion of leap years interfering with their marking of time.
I wrote a lot about her last year. And I don't doubt I will write more in time. I took photos while visiting my family in Australia that triggered memories, anecdotes, and so forth that I hope to capture in words. Some I'll capture for myself. Others I'll share.
In the meantime, as Spring drags its feet returning to England, the daffodils rush in and bloom on the verges and traffic islands, in suburban gardens, central London parks, cemeteries, the local supermarket, the vase in the entry to our building placed there by my Welsh neighbour who lives downstairs. And in my mind.
For Mum. In her memory.
sowbread [st nicholas’ church, arundel, west sussex, england, 2021]
Some Cyclamen hederifolium I photographed in the churchyard of St Nicholas' Church in Arundel while visiting in September 2021.