Diwali

I noticed that our local National Trust (NT) property, East Riddlesden Hall, was putting on a special display to celebrate Diwali, the Indian Festival of Lights. With religious significance for Hindus and several other faiths, it gets its name from the clay lights that people put around their homes for the festival, symbolising the inner light that protects from spiritual darkness, the triumph of good over evil. The Sanskrit word dīpāvali means 'a row or series of lights'.  

Homes are decorated with patterns called rangoli, using coloured powder, sand or - as here - brightly coloured pompoms.  

The Hindu festival is associated with Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity. I believe the little statue here represents the Goddess, surrounded by Diya lamps, their clay holders made by local schoolchildren. 

I must confess to knowing very little about the festival, though I know it is celebrated by our local Hindu communities with feasting and fireworks. It was good to see the NT getting into the spirit of things, in collaboration with various local Hindu community groups.  

As the nights draw in and winter encroaches, I felt it was fitting to go and enjoy the lights - and to see East Riddlesden Hall with a different look. It's not normally open at night.

Peak autumn

I think we've just about reached peak autumn here, judging by the scenes at Bolton Abbey at the weekend. There are as many leaves on the ground now as there are left in the trees. The colours have turned out to be surprisingly good, after a slow start. 

One of the things I had not expected when I moved house was to be gifted a new group of girlfriends. Many of the folk in the apartments in my block are quite frail and elderly. Some I've never seen at all, some I only see when they walk slowly round the grounds or take their rubbish to the bins. Everyone is friendly and I feel I'm beginning to get to know people, just from the brief chats we have in passing. There are, however, a handful of younger folk of my kind of age ('younger' being a relative term, given I'm in my early 70s!) and they have very kindly invited me into their friendship group. As I say, that's unexpected but very heartwarming. Thus it was that four of us took a trip out to Bolton Abbey for a walk and lunch, which was most enjoyable. It's surprising how easily and quickly 5+ miles (11000 steps, according to my phone app) pass when you're busy chatting! I didn't even stop to take many photos. These were just snaps on my phone. 

My new pet!

I opened the kitchen blind one morning recently to find this snail halfway down the window (outside thankfully!) Yuck. Given that I live in a first floor flat, that is some adventure he is having. I put his picture on our community Whats App group, asking if anyone had lost their pet snail. It occasioned a series of hilarious replies, including two short and very clever poems... but no-one claimed it. So I guess it's mine to keep - except that it had disappeared by the time I got home from my day out, leaving only a smeary trail of goo. The next question is whether the window cleaners will ever clean that off! They only spray the windows from the ground, which never seems terribly effective at the best of times. 

Farewell to Normandie

After being on display in Salt's Mill's roof space for most of the past two years, the exhibition of David Hockney's huge artwork 'A Year in Normandie' closes today. I'm not sure whether it will be dismantled or 'mothballed' for opening again at some future date. I went along to bid farewell. It is really rather special. 

Made up of prints from 220 iPad pieces Hockney created in 2020, while he was spending the pandemic lockdown in Normandy, it records the changing seasons around his French garden. Influenced by Chinese scrolls and the Bayeux Tapestry, Hockney's intent is that the viewer will walk past it and experience in one picture a whole year in Normandy.  It's quite intriguing. I watched a short video about its creation. Not that I could hear it (no subtitles for the deaf, tch tch) but it showed Hockney out in his garden making sketches and ink drawings, then experimenting on his iPad. 

This section reminded me of a song that I was once fond of, by Harry Chapin, called 'Flowers are Red', about a child whose teachers tell him off for painting things the 'wrong' colours. Hockney thinks tree trunks are purple... Who am I to argue? 

I wonder what delights will come to Salts Mill next? They have some great exhibitions and, if it's Hockney you want to see, there is a large permanent collection of his work here. (He grew up in Bradford, went to art college here and was a friend of Jonathan Silver, who rescued the Mill from dereliction and developed it into the world class attraction that it now is.)

Happy and glorious

Another glorious autumn day in Saltaire... The spells of warm sunshine are not consistent. They have been interspersed with really dull, damp, often foggy days. When it's like this though, I make the most of it with a good walk at some point in the day. There is still half a mile of canal towpath to enjoy despite the closures, and there were a a fair few boats cruising at the weekend. Such days make me very happy. 

It was busier than it looks and I bumped into a close friend along the way, so that was particularly cheering. I've also started chatting lately to an elderly gentleman whom I see frequently along the towpath. He always carries a litter-picker and a carrier bag, picking up rubbish as he walks. My walk times seemed often to coincide with his but then, for about a month, I didn't see him and I started to worry that something had happened to him. It was something of a relief to spot him again. His name is Eddie, and he's a star, a local treasure. 

Acer explosion

Another from Thorp Perrow. The acers were a stunning colour, seemingly a darker red than sometimes I've seen them. One or two of them were against a background that was uncluttered enough to try a 'Pep Ventosa' effect (basically several photos taken from different viewpoints, layered and blended to create one composite). Some people can create these in camera using blended multi exposures but my camera won't do that so I do mine in Photoshop. It produces a very similar effect, either way. 

Halloween #2

When I visited the gardens at Thorp Perrow, I couldn't avoid parts of the 'Halloween Trail', which I suppose is aimed at youngsters but certainly spooked this oldie! I nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned a corner to be greeted by the above piratical lot and my movement triggered a very loud, taped rendering of 'What shall we do with a drunken sailor?' 👀

I was less bothered by this slender being enjoying a bath. She seems to have pinched my shower cap! 😂

I didn't stop for a 'Psychic Reading'... No thank you! 

Apparently the estate only has a skeleton staff of gardeners. No wonder, when the trees harbour scary beings like the one below! 

The Bog Garden was inhabited by this toothsome hulk (!), making no bones about everything. It seemed he'd scared a couple of visitors so much that they landed headfirst in the bog! I made sure I didn't end up the same way, making a rapid exit to a less terror-filled part of the gardens! 

It's a good job I'm 70+ and not just 7. The displays might have scarred me for life. 

Halloween #1

The shops are full of Halloween tat: masks, ghosts, skeletons, witches' hats, fake spider webs and so on - not to forget, of course, pumpkins (which we never normally see in our stores). When I was a child it was not 'a thing' but over the years we seem to have borrowed from the US and imported a lot of the drama. I'm not sure it's a good thing, given the amount of evil there is in the world as it is, but most people would argue it's 'just a bit of fun'. 

I didn't need to buy any props. I found enough to scare me out on my walk!  ;)

And here's the same photo that I showed earlier, taken in Hirst Woods, but given a radically different colour palette. Spooky or what? 

Thorp Perrow's water features

The gardens at Thorp Perrow have a couple of lakes, ponds and a stream running through. On a very drizzly, almost misty, day, it was interesting how the light rendered the water differently in different places, depending on the tree cover and adjacent colours. So... four images, four distinctive and diverse representations. 

Thorp Perrow Hall (above) is not open to the public. It was built in the early 18th century and remodelled in the 1800s. The gardens and arboretum were the creation of Colonel Sir Leonard Ropner (1895-1977) and still belong to his family, who I assume live in the Hall. 

Under the trees

There are paths at Thorp Perrow but you don't have to stick to them and are quite at liberty to meander wherever you like through the trees. That means that you can get right under the branches. Sometimes the best views of the colours and patterns of the leaf canopy come from looking 'through' and 'up', as I've sought to show in these images. 

The splendour of maples

Part of the gardens at Thorp Perrow are given over to ornamental maples (acers) and of course they look wonderful at this time of year. There is a magnificent avenue of them, aligned on Thorp Perrow Hall at one end and the gazebo memorial to Sir Leonard Ropner, the arboretum's creator, at the other.

The stone columns of the gazebo nicely framed another small tree: 

Elsewhere, the cascades of leaves in different tones and hues reminded me of a tapestry.

Autumn leaf studies

Thorp Perrow, being an arboretum, of course means it's all about the foliage. Native and non-native trees and shrubs have a huge variety of leaf forms and, at this time of year, colour too. Rather than taking lots of 'general views' of the gardens, I found myself wanting to focus on the details and the wonderful mix of shape and hue. So much to enjoy...