Pink explosion

I find it interesting that, despite having lived in my previous home - where I was very happy -  for over 25 years, I don't miss it a bit. I'm totally content with my new apartment and relieved not to have to worry any more about the maintenance of a house that was over 120 years old. The only things I do miss are my lovely neighbour (and we are still in touch anyway) and the cherry blossom: mature trees at the end of the street that, for a couple of weeks each year, explode in a riot of pink. It's that time of year now and, happily, just a short stroll down the road takes me back there to enjoy their colour. 

When the blossom is over, the petals fall like confetti and get swept up in the breeze. I used to find my front garden absolutely covered in them, like pink snow. It was pretty but messy! So I don't really miss that either. 

Random notes from another walk

I try to have at least a short walk most days (don't always manage it) and my default is to walk down to the canal, along the towpath and back home up through Saltaire village. There's usually something interesting to see. It's not often, however, that I see kayakers on the canal and certainly not so many together. They were a colourful sight. They had to stop a few yards further on and haul all the boats out of the canal to carry them up past the lock. There are signs on both sides that mandate 'Porterage'. I imagine a lock isn't safe for such shallow, light craft; it would be like trapping them in a washing machine as the water poured in.  

At exactly the moment they sped past me, I also spotted a toad crawling quite rapidly across the towpath to the canal. It was a feat of some dexterity to manage to get photos of both. The toad was soon gone, with a belly flop into the water. Perhaps it was on its way to spawn. 

Random notes from a walk

The view along the railway line towards Saltaire has been opened up quite a lot since Network Rail has been assiduously felling trees along the length of the line. I assume it is to prevent problems with fallen trees, and leaves on the rails in the autumn, though I did read that it was part of a programme to encourage lower shrub and hedge growth, which are apparently better as wildlife corridors. Who knows? I was a bit dismayed as the bare patches and stumps left behind currently look a bit unsightly but I suppose it will all recover somehow. I note that they have also removed the young birch tree that was growing through the parapet of the railway bridge. That did need doing, as it would soon have seriously destabilised the stonework.

Meanwhile, growth in our woodlands is unchecked. There are currently hundreds of celandines blooming. Their yellow, sunburst flowers look very pretty en masse. I almost like them as much as the bluebells that come later... and I especially like them when they're interspersed with wood anemones. 

There are a few early bluebells just beginning to unfurl on the south-facing banking alongside the river. These are always much earlier to flower than those in Hirst Woods, where it's more shaded. 

The old, repurposed boat by Hirst Locks is getting more fragile as time goes on, but when the spring flowers bloom it still looks quite attractive. 

The gardening project

I popped over to visit my family just before Easter, as they were about to go on holiday. My younger granddaughter was telling me she has joined her school's gardening club. They had just started a project to grow cress seeds in eggshells but, with them going away, she was worried hers wouldn't survive. She asked if I would take care of it while she was away. Of course, I said yes. What she doesn't know is that I can kill a living lettuce from the supermarket in a matter of hours. I don't have a green finger in my body! So it was with some trepidation that I transported this precious gift home and installed it on the kitchen windowsill. I've been feeding it carefully-poured teaspoons of water two or three times a day and rotating it to the light whenever I notice it keeling over. So far, so good! Though, by the time she gets home, it'll be well past its peak.  Nevertheless I am pleased with my efforts and have been sending daily updates, with a photo, to its owner. 

I suppose I could harvest it to eat in an egg sandwich - but it would feel like murder! 

Jim Moir - Neo Fauna

The new exhibition in Cartwright Hall is 'Neo Fauna' by Jim Moir, a prolific artist more widely known as comedy legend Vic Reeves (part of the Reeves and Mortimer double act with Bob Mortimer.) 

I enjoyed the exhibition very much.  It's hugely varied, with some wildly colourful images, many of them birds, like the long -tailed tits below:

and the well-observed Black Guillemot Frenzy: 

Then there are much more understated but again beautifully observed watercolours. I particularly liked the quartet of curlews: 

'Barn Owl in a woodland' was looser and more impressionistic, and full of atmosphere. I also enjoyed the magpie (below). There are many of them in the trees round where I live and he has captured their 'essence' really well here, I think. Apparently, since he retired from comedy and became a full-time artist, he paints in the morning and then goes for a walk in the afternoon, closely observing the birds and the details of their appearance and behaviour. That careful attention really shows in his work.

Studies of dancers and birds imaginatively echo their movements.

Then there were more surreal and highly coloured offerings, like 'The Exhibitionist' (below) and some rather odd, distorted studies of 'American Couples', which I didn't warm to at all. 

It's rare that you see an artist with such a broad range of styles. I wouldn't normally show so many but felt I needed to do them justice. The exhibition is on until the end of August. 

Cartwright Hall

Cartwright Hall, in Lister Park, was purpose-built as Bradford's civic art gallery in 1904, thanks to a gift of £40,000 from the local mill owner Samuel Lister. 

As I showed yesterday, the extensive park has a variety of areas and attractions. The garden to the front of the Hall is planted with bedding plants in the formal, old-fashioned way, by Bradford Parks department. They were just refilling the beds as I walked through. 

The gallery has temporary exhibitions but also shows a selection of the city's permanent art collection. The art works on display do change from time to time. This is one of my favourites: Arab Weaver (1886) by Armand Point (1861-1932).  

It's hard to pin down exactly why I like it. It's a huge canvas, depicting a peaceful, cosy, domestic scene, nothing wild about it. I love the vibrant colours in it, the soaring arches, the connectedness of the young people pictured contrasting with the intent focus of the weaver (their father, I suppose). I don't mind if it is 'romanticised'! 

Park life

Now the new exhibitions have opened at Cartwright Hall (the Turner Prize having been dismantled), I decided to take advantage of a dry day to have a walk round Lister Park and visit the art gallery. The crocuses on the banking beside the main road have given way to hosts of daffodils and narcissi. 

A circuit of the lake is always pleasant, though there are so many geese that the paths get a bit yucky. The statue of Peter Pan (a copy of the original in Kensington Gardens in London) was a gift to Bradford from the philanthropist Sir Trevor Pears. It's installed safely on a small island in the lake, though that does mean you can't see the detail of all the woodland creatures and faeries on the base. 

The bandstand has been located here since 1908. Its roof became unsafe and was removed in the 1980s, and has since been restored. I think it's still used in the summer. Many of our parks have a summer programme of music. 

The park is a nice mixture of open spaces, lawns and planted areas. At one time there was an outdoor lido too, though that has long gone. I enjoyed my wanderings, though the sunshine didn't last long!  

Lollipops

I walk past the Salt Beer Factory several times a week but I can't say I've noticed the 'lollipop trees' before.  Maybe they're new... maybe it's the vibrant red of the new leaves that drew my attention to them... I don't know. Anyway, I liked the effect. I think they're a variety of Pieris, though I didn't know they could be trained into such a shape. (Happily corrected - Photinia Red Robin) 

Spring teaser

We are being teased with the odd day or two of beautiful spring sunshine and then the weather reverts to rain, wind and cold. We all respond to the sun. I'm making the most of it with longer walks, the trees are soaking it up to fuel their new leaves and the spring flowers - yellow, white, blue - are twinkling in the woodland. Gorgeous. I just wish it would last for a few more days at a time. 

Shipley sheep

More sheep! 

The Shipley place name derives from two words: the Old English scīp ('sheep') and lēah meaning either 'a forest, wood, glade, clearing' or, later, 'a pasture, meadow'. Fitting therefore that, as part of the recent town centre landscaping, we've acquired a flock, grazing on a patch of grass on Well Croft. 

Before the market place was gutted and reinvented there used to be a 'Shopping Sheep' statue, which some people loved even though I didn't. (See HERE). I guess these are intended to replace that. I like them rather better.  (I don't like all the empty shops we now have. My bank is due to close its Shipley branch soon too. Boo.) 

Hoppy Easter

I didn't prepare an 'Easter' photo, as such, so here are the lambs I knitted for my grandgirls. Each contained a small creme egg. The girls both seemed quite pleased with them. The pattern had 'googly eyes' stuck on the faces but I decided I liked the gentler look, without eyes. They were quick to knit up and useful for using up small lengths of yarn. 

So this comes to wish ewe a woolly hoppy Easter, with sheeps of good wishes. 🐑 🐑 🐣 🐥

Striking when the iron is hot

We had a talk on Intentional Camera Movement (ICM) at the camera club recently. That's a technique whereby you set a slow shutter speed and slightly move the camera as the image is recorded. It's a bit of a 'hit and miss' affair (in my experience anyway) that involves deleting more images as 'failures' than those that seem to any degree pleasing. Nevertheless, I think it's good to play creatively and try different things. There's nothing like striking while the iron is hot, so the very next day I went out to have a go. I've tried it before but not recently. I actually used my phone camera for these, with an app called 'Slow Shutter', as I find it gives the desired effect without having to use filters and all the technicalities that necessitates. 

So here are a few of Saltaire's recognisable views, with a bit of wobble. (I know Barbara won't like these because of her eyesight - my apologies to her and anyone else that finds them tricky.) 

Repair café

This was a new experience for me... the repair café. 

For quite a while, the electrical cord on my hairdryer has been pulling out of its protective sheath at the point where it connects to the dryer. The dryer works well otherwise so I tried to fix the exposed wires by wrapping them with insulating tape but that wasn't really very effective. When I heard that a fire in a neighbouring block of flats had been caused by a faulty hairdryer, I was spurred into action. I discovered there was a repair café every month in the church in the nearby village of Eldwick, run by volunteers who mend electrical items, fabrics, clothes, wooden tools and similar things. I took my hairdryer along and I'm pleased to say that the electrical team quickly fixed it, doing a very neat job. No charge either, though they welcome donations to help keep the venture running. 

Whilst I waited, I had a cup of coffee and chatted with the lovely volunteers and other customers. It was a really friendly atmosphere. They had a big Fairtrade stall too, so I came away with some rather nice scented soap. 

All in all, it was a most enjoyable and positive experience. I'm very happy that my (ancient) hairdryer will keep on functioning safely for the near future. I believe that many places now have these repair cafés, which is a great idea, enabling us to make better use of the things we already own rather than purchasing new ones.

Yellow peril

Another in the Colour series, yellow this time. Although it's a cheery colour, I find I don't have much of it. For clothes, it's not a shade that particularly suits my colouring, and around the house it seems reserved for fairly utilitarian items - rubber gloves, dusters and the like. We did once paint our back door yellow, years ago, prompting my mother to warn that we'd be plagued with flies. I never really managed scientifically to prove or disprove that one! Anyway, it's the colour of spring and we've all been longing for spring, so this will help us on the way. 

1853 treasures

The 1853 Gallery, on the ground floor of Salts Mill, is a treasure filled with treasures. It sells wonderful books on art, photography, architecture... I could browse for hours! 

Its walls are filled with priceless paintings and sketches by David Hockney, a 'Bradford lad' and a friend of the late Jonathan Silver, the entrepreneur who saved the mill when it ceased to be a textile business in the 1980s.  

I've always rather liked the unfinished sketch of Hockney's muse, the textile designer Celia Birtwell. Behind it, a glimpse of the surrounding treasure that is Saltaire village - the tower of the Victoria Hall can just be seen through the window.

Alongside the paintings there's a superb collection of Burmantofts ceramics: art pottery produced between 1880 and 1904 by the Burmantofts Pottery in Leeds, which mostly made utilitarian ceramics for the construction industry. Much of the collection was a personal passion of Jonathan Silver. I wonder if the family (who still own and run the Mill) continue to collect pieces? I don't remember seeing the little table (below) before but perhaps I just never noticed it. I love the colours and glazes of the pottery. 

In the 1853 Gallery, you can always smell the fragrance of the white lilies that are placed in vases all around the gallery. (You can even smell them outside.) I think they may be a tribute in Jonathan's memory. He sadly died of cancer in 1997, aged only 47.  

So many treasures.