off-duty umbrellas
a cluster of lovely memories, a smile for all
fly agaric
peace wreath
east briscoe
of red bows and holly
resident of the month
Week two of the December project I'm doing with friends, Phil, Christina and Charlotte.
No theme, just a photo a week of whatever catches our eye.
singapore graveyard flower
Whilst staying with my uncle and his partner in the southern suburbs of Brisbane, shortly after arriving in Australia in June, I ventured out to purchase various devices I lacked.
I had never needed a UK-to-Australian adaptor outside my Apple travel kit, but I relied on a Windows laptop from my day job on this visit. I also needed a replacement cable for my iPhone to feed into my Apple adaptor as my existing cable was lightning to lightning, not lightning to USB, and the adaptor was many years old.
All that is beside the point, really.
The point is that I walked from my uncle's to one of the three plus shopping centres "nearby" (all were at least a 20-minute walk) to get such items, and I took my camera, foreseeing that I could capture something of the local area.
My uncle was somewhat sceptical of what I might find to photograph along the way. Which was, in fairness, understandable. Except my idea of photogenic is often not the same as others’.
These and other flowers I photographed in parkland near my uncle's home were more traditionally photogenic. But, had I not had my camera with me, I wouldn't have captured them (well, I would have, with my phone, as I did, but not at the same quality).
The odd thing, though, has been coming back to these photos months later, knowing they are frangipanis and having Wikipedia tell me that Australia recognises a different tree as a frangipani.
This genus is the only frangipani I know as someone who grew up in Canberra, Brisbane, Darwin, Melbourne, country Victoria, and later in life lived on the Gold Coast, and I photographed these in a park in Sunnybank Hills, Brisbane.
We had what I believe to be a plumeria obtusa on the nature strip at the front of the house we rented in Darwin. I remember the fragrant flowers and climbing into its branches to lounge whilst listening to Madonna's album, Like a Virgin, playing from the cassette player I'd fed out my bedroom window onto the table on the balcony.
I looked up where our house used to be in Rapid Creek (or Nightcliff, as we knew it to be at the time), and though the house is long gone (I already knew this from previous searches of former homes), I'm pleased to say the frangipani tree was still standing in 2021.
santa's potting shed
still life with dustpan
Week one of the December project I'm doing with friends, Phil, Christina and Charlotte.
No theme, just a photo a week of whatever catches our eye.
butchery
When travelling, my camera is probably pointed equally at the sublime and the mundane. Whatever catches my eye.
In this case, a former butchery in West Ulverstone, Tasmania, caught my eye as Victoria drove me from our delicious brunch at Hey Buddy to West Ulverstone beach for a wander (albeit relatively brief as the weather turned wet and windy soon after).
We'd only driven about 160m when the shopfront caught my eye, and I asked Victoria to stop so I could take some photos.
I can't explain why I was drawn to it. Maybe it was the eggshell blue tiles. Maybe it was the faded signage. Maybe a combination of the two.
I don't recall if I registered the logo design fully in the moment, but that is definitely a reason I should have been drawn to it. I've included a crop of the detail of the logo (albeit not the best quality at that size) to explain why it was 100% worth stopping, in my opinion.
all that glitters is not gold
never a dull moment
firethorn
I'm mixing things up a bit with a new Friday* series, fruitful, a series of photographs I've taken of fruit that complement two of my other series: a floral tribute and the fungus among us.
These berries are on the Pyracantha plant, commonly known as firethorn, and I photographed them overhanging the back fence of a home that backed onto Pondwicks Meadow in Amersham Old Town.
According to Wikipedia, the English have used firethorn to cover unsightly walls since the late 18th century.
Its thorns also make it an attractive and organic form of home security.
the old contemptibles
a bird in the hand
granny-pop-out-of-bed
This post isn't the first time I've shared a photograph of hedge bindweed for my series, a floral tribute. And I'm sure this won't be the last.
Despite being considered a noxious weed in the US and being able to overwhelm and pull down cultivated plants, including shrubs and small trees, and potentially toxic to humans and animals, I think the flowers are beautiful. I tend to photograph them in most places I find them.
In particular, because they're often found in the least beautiful places: by railway lines where people have tossed their trash, growing by or over derelict structures, in the overgrown perimeters of parks and other tended spaces (often alongside brambles and, in this case, stinging nettles).
Reading more about them, they seem like something out of a horror film: they can self-seed, and their seeds can remain viable for as long as 30 years. And whole plants can regrow from discarded roots. Apply those concepts to "dead" humans, and you have the storyline of many of my favourite horror films and novels.
