Winter walks

I have been struck down by a writer’s block lately. More things than just this blog have been consequently neglected – letters have gone unanswered, and evenings have been spent watching TV and feeling slightly guilty. It’s the hardest stretch of spring. The evenings are longer, but not so much that it would make a difference yet, and so I havent’ quite come out of hibernation yet.

I’m also not entirely sure about what to write about these photos – even if I do look at some of them and think, “you know what, that’s not a bad photo”. In January and February, I went walking. Quite a lot, actually. January was mild (and sometimes sunny), February brought winter flowers. There was no snow, but the air was often crisp and the light beautiful. Just being outdoors has been a delight in itself. The glories of the English landscape is just a bonus.
IMGP2705IMGP2595IMGP2580IMGP2579IMGP2636The first stop: Blenheim Great Park (a photo set of my summertime visit to Blenheim is here). The house was closed for the winter, but there were still plenty of delights to have in the park, and we headed over the lake towards the Great Avenue and the Column of Victory. Sheep aplenty. Magnificent trees.
IMGP2790 IMGP2807 IMGP2811 IMGP2823 IMGP2830 IMGP2833I feel like I too rarely venture outside the Oxford/London axis these days so that this day trip to Great Malvern felt like a treat. The town isn’t perhaps as its best in February, nor is it consciously tourist-friendly, but it had its interesting corners. And the glorious backdrop of this range of hills! – I climbed the North Hill, saving the Worcestershire Beacon for the next visit; I am told that on a clear day one can see 13 counties, three cathedrals, Welsh mountains and the Bristol Channel from the Beacon, and the views from the North Hill are not too shabby either…
IMGP2918 IMGP2957 IMGP2940 IMGP2949The third field trip was to Welford Park in Berkshire, famous for the Great British Bake-Off and snowdrops. It’s a private house, very pretty, owned by a rather nice lady whom we talked to briefly at the gift shop, a bit far from everything, and the weather was not great, but the snowdrops! I have been to a bluebell forest, and have always wanted to see snowdrops like this, so this was really a dream come true.

Blow, blow thy winter wind, Part 2

Winter in England has been rough too, but in entirely different ways. It has rained. And rained. And then rained some more. In hard, sudden bursts, water hammering the already saturated ground. This is a photo of the Wolvercote/Godstow end of the Port Meadow, early December – when things were still mostly normal. Most of the photos below are from the same general area, few hundred feet up and down the river.

The same spot yesterday.

The Port Meadow has pretty much turned into a lake. I have never thought much of this “beauty spot”, so I actually prefer this vast, shining stretch of water it is now, and feel a bit sad knowing that it probably won’t be there much longer.


A slightly different angle of Oxford.



The weather was full of surprises. I was standing under a tree, cursing the sheeting rain, when suddenly the clouds scattered, a brilliant, breathtaking sunshine coloured the landscape, and the brightest, most glorious rainbow I have ever seen arched across the sky. I felt like I could touch it. It almost felt – if I was one to use such words – like a blessing. The beauty of it was overwhelming.



So many rainbows. So much dirt on my sensor.


After a slightly dull morning, the afternoon was glorious.


The Godstow Lock. This is the closest I got yesterday – the path was flooded, and my bootlegs were not high enough to wade through the waters.



Louisiana in Oxford?





So much wildlife! My reflexes – or my lens – are not quick enough for the rabbits, but I managed to snap some birds, all looking rather spring-like.




I never knew there are pikes in the Isis.


A Port Meadow horse. One of these guys followed me as I crossed the meadow, his nose pressed against my back. I love horses, and feel quite comfortable around them, but that was still a tiny bit unnerving. This fella, on the other hand, paid no attention whatsoever on me.






Almost missed the snowdrops this year. My secret bluebell place is also my secret snowdrop place, it turns out. And my crocus place. It’s a small cemetery somewhere in Jericho – not a particularly photogenic place, but a true secret garden – so few people know it’s there. I won’t give you directions, but look for it, when you are in the neighbourhood.