Blocked

Everything is blocked! The purchase of my new flat is still stalled, and I have as yet no idea of a moving date. I'm sure it won't be too long now and suddenly everything will be frantic but right now I'm still twiddling my thumbs and trying to keep myself occupied. After a day of heavy rain on Monday, Tuesday was brighter so I went for a walk. Salts Mill is closed on Tuesdays so the paths through the mill yard were blocked. The canal towpath is blocked off for repairs. 

Walking across the footbridge into the park, I could see the river was pretty high, though just about within its banks. 

Up at Hirst Weir, the river had overtopped the bank and looked as though it was now receding a little, leaving huge puddles to reflect the blue sky. The ducks were exploring beyond where they can normally go. 

The depth marker was almost submerged. (I wouldn't fancy living in that house opposite. I presume they have some flood barriers but it still looks quite vulnerable.) A man walking his dog reported that the riverside path was impassable unless you had wellies. I didn't, so I turned round and went back.... Blocked at every turn! 

The Chippindales!

Men at work! This made me laugh, only because The Chippendales (for those who've been asleep for the last forty odd years) are an all-male dance troupe known for striptease performances. Anyway, there were some hunky chaps hard at work on the canal towpath as I walked past. It has been closed off between Shipley and Hirst Lock for extensive repairs, widening and laying a hard surface. It is a much-used stretch and should be considerably more pleasant and less muddy underfoot when it is done.

Like a small child, I could stand for ages watching workmen doing these kinds of jobs. The digger was lifting gravel from a barge onto the towpath, and then others were spreading it and rolling it smooth and level. I gather this is the underlayer, which will be covered in tarmac. Then a binding layer of natural gravel will be applied in the spring.

The New Mill

Saltaire's New Mill looked rather glorious in some weak winter sunshine, outlined against a moody sky. Built in 1868, when the main Salts Mill needed more capacity, it was again extended in 1871 to house a dye works. It was designed by Lockwood and Mawson, the architects responsible for both Salts Mill and the village of Saltaire, using similar materials. The grand chimney is modelled on the tower of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari in Venice. 

It was extensively refurbished in 1992/3 and now contains offices for Bradford NHS (Health Authority) and 98 privately owned apartments on the canalside.  I did at one stage consider buying one of them. They are very nice but most of them get little sunshine. They face north/south and the south side is shadowed by Salts Mill just across the canal. Despite being in Saltaire village they are actually quite cut-off too, with a long uphill walk into the village and shops. Fine if you have a car but not so good if you're an old lady with a walking stick. (Which I might be, one day.) I did hear once that the late lamented Paul O'Grady (drag comedian and presenter) had a holiday flat here and could occasionally be spotted walking his dog in the park. 

Seed heads palette

The final one of this series. I'm playing with them only because the weather has been too horrible to venture out much and I'm a bit stressed. Although there has been a tiny amount of progress on the legal work towards me buying the new apartment, it is still going to take a few weeks longer. I find I'm not sleeping very well. I've been watching the highlights of the Australian Open tennis, which helps to take my mind off my preoccupations though leaves me wishing I was in warmer and sunnier climes!

I did manage to go for a walk in between rain showers mid-week. These seed heads - hydrangea and sedum, I think - were in the allotment alongside Victoria Road. The vibrant combination stopped me in my tracks, though composing a photo was somewhat hampered by the metal railings that were a bit too high to lean over in the way I really needed to. I was hoping no-one was watching me as I must have looked a bit oddly contorted! 

 

Shells palette

So many colours and tones in these shells that I found covering the wall of a shed. I could even have picked out a few more. 
 

Natural palette

Another subtle colour palette. I think this would be a good way of deciding what colours to paint my new walls... if I ever do manage to move! 

For those who have asked how I do these, it is done in Photoshop by extending the canvas of the photo, creating the box outlines and then using the colour picker to sample little areas of colour in the photo, before filling in each box outline with the paint bucket tool. A bit convoluted but easy enough once you've done a few. I quite like the effect. 

Rust and blue palette

Getting slightly obsessed with doing these palettes... With Storm Isha battering at us, it's been too awful to go out and I need something to take my mind off the fact that I'm not able to move house yet!

Malham Tarn palette

I love colour and find I'm craving it at this time of year. It's fun to extract some of the colours in images into a 'colour palette' like I've done here. It's a long time since I tried this but I quite like the effect. These shades are quite subtle. 

Harlow Carr #4

A pile of rotting leaves by the pond couldn't be called 'beautiful' by any stretch of the imagination and yet there was an allure there, to me, in the shapes, textures and faded, chalky colours. Perhaps I'm a bit odd but I spent quite a while with my camera trying out different compositions. 

Harlow Carr #3

Wandering through Harlow Carr gardens, my eye was drawn to textures and the frondy shapes of grasses. The seed-head structures above are actually a metal sculpture which is kinetic, meaning it moves around in the breeze, delicately balanced on tiny joints. Quite mesmerising. 

These grasses look like breaking waves, even when there is no wind to ruffle them:

Rust-coloured seedheads were counterpointed by the cool, bluish tones of the lake behind. 

The reflection of a tree in the lake looked intricate and ethereal, overlaying the sky and clouds mirrored in the water:

This little patch of soft coloured stems and dainty grasses wove a gauzy tapestry: 

 

Harlow Carr #2

Our gardens may be wintering but if you look closely there are many signs of life. I love seeing the fluffy little buds of willow. You can see why it's called 'pussy-willow'. 

Witch hazel (hamamelis) flowers are like a million little fireworks exploding: 

I'm not sure what the tree below is, but it had attractive red buds: 

The flowers of cyclamen are so boldly coloured that they shout for attention even though they are tiny and look delicate. They are often paired with hellebores though I'm not sure whether that's what the green buds are: 

The waxy, creamy-white flowers below are definitely hellebores, sometimes called 'Christmas roses'. 

The little purple blossoms are a variety of daphne, I think. Some of them have a very strong, sweet scent though I couldn't smell these. 

Harlow Carr #1

Well, the best laid plans don't always work out... I'd arranged to visit Harewood House with a friend, assuming it would be open at weekends in the winter. We arrived to find the gates closed! Apparently they take a couple of weeks in the New Year to take down all the Christmas decor (quite a task) and get the place set up for the next season.  So, plan B then... and we turned round and made for RHS Harlow Carr instead. It was chilly but dry and we enjoyed a wander through the gardens. 

Everywhere is very much in 'wintering' mode but there were still things to notice and enjoy: shapes, colours, textures. The red dogwood stems were really vibrant against an evergreen hedge.  

Drops of moisture clung on to the broad leaf of a leek in the kitchen garden:

The bark of a young Betula Nigra (black birch) tree was papery and peeling:

There are textured seed heads and grasses that make sculptural shapes, even though devoid of colour and life. The skilled horticulturists and garden designers of the RHS know exactly what to leave and what to prune to create interest throughout the year, even when it's cold and the plants are dormant. 

Betwixt and between

Frustratingly, there is a big hold-up in the legal processes for the purchase of my new flat, waiting for some information that I'm informed has not even been requested yet! (Not my solicitor's fault.) So it could be several weeks before I can move. Frankly it is 'doing my head in' as they say colloquially. I can't do anything to expedite it though, so I just have to chill. You'd think chilling would be effortless when the temperature outside hovers around 0°C but it ain't easy! 

At least we've had some drier and brighter weather. My favourite stretch of the canal looked beautiful the other day. They are about to close this length to do repairs and upgrade the towpath, so I'm making the most of it before it is barred. 

One of the little bridges over Load Pit Beck is more visible now the vegetation has died back. I'd not really noticed before that even this has been built with a Victorian Gothic arch, as was the style for all of the Milner Field estate. 

Further up the Coach Road, it almost looked spring-like with the sun coming through the trees. 

So here I am, betwixt and between in every way! Reaching for the light, like the new shoots that are just beginning to appear in my garden tubs. 

Chilly?

As I passed the Ice Cream Boat, I was amused to notice that someone has put a child's hat - presumably dropped along the canal towpath - on the sculpture on the top of the boat. It has been a little chilly lately. Maybe his ears were getting cold. The Ice Cream Boat and Titus, the trip boat, usually move from their moorings in Saltaire in the winter. (Titus usually spends his holidays in the Skipton Marina; I've seen him there.) For some reason, this year, they both seem to be staying put. 

Evening stroll

I enjoy a stroll at the time of day when the sun is setting and the lights are coming on. Everywhere looks a little different: more mysterious, and the lighted buildings look cosy and inviting. A circuit down to and around the park and back takes me little more than twenty minutes but it can be refreshing after a busy day. 

Sparable Lane

For once, a sunny, crisp Saturday! I decided to celebrate by going for a ramble and headed off along the Upper Coach Road. At the gateway to the Milner Field estate, the path branches and I took the right fork which winds its way up towards the village of Gilstead. It follows the boundary of the grand estate of Milner Field, which I've written about before: the huge mansion built by Titus Salt Junior around 1870 and now ruined and almost forgotten. See HERE.

At the 'birdcage gate' (see HERE) I followed the old pathway up towards Gilstead and then, on a whim, I decided to follow a path branching off to the left, noted as Sparable Lane. I've never tried this one before. 

I'm always fascinated by these ancient thoroughfares, dating back to the time before vehicular traffic led to our network of roads. When people walked or used horses, these paths connected village to village, farm and mill to market. A little research suggests that Sparable Lane existed before Titus Jnr built his grand house: 

"An article in the Leeds Mercury of 2nd November 1869 comments about the picturesque old hedges being removed and these quaint landmarks which rendered the district so rurally interesting being replaced by stone walls which ran through the meadows and up the hillsides. This is a direct reference to the new Milner Field being built by Titus Salt Jr. Also mentioned is a pathway to Gilstead which formerly opened onto the moor (referred to as "an odious snicket") being built between high walls. This is a direct reference to the adaptation of Sparable Lane as one of the natural boundaries to Milner Field Estate. The field walls and boundary walls to the Estate still exist, as do the kitchen garden walls." (From a Bingley Town Council document)

A stream had evidently been diverted into a culvert, maybe to supply the lake in the house's grounds. 

The 'odious snicket' wound its way between its walls along the Milner Field boundary. Parts of the path were quite hard going for me, as it was steep and uneven.  Recent wet weather had led to it being rather more of a stream than a path in parts.

This area, now fields, would have been the edge of the moor, looking towards the trees that line the steep sides of Shipley Glen. 

The route skirted the remains of what was Milner Field's kitchen garden (below), where vegetables for the house would have been grown. The Garden House is still here somewhere, hidden away behind walls but still used as a residence, I think. 

Eventually and rather abruptly I found myself at the end of Sparable Lane, where it joins the top of Primrose Lane. There is no pavement there so a car shot past my nose just as I got to the road. Luckily I'd paused, rather than stepping out into its path!

From there it is only a few hundred yards down the hill to the driveway to the Milner Field estate itself, where the very solid Victorian Gothic gatehouse, one of two remaining lodges, still stands. 

Then a pleasant if muddy saunter downhill brought me back to the Upper Coach Road. Almost 10000 steps and a new walking route discovered. 

Chapter House gargoyles

York Minster's Chapter House has the most wonderful medieval carvings. The octagonal space dates from the 1280s and was where important meetings were held (including a gathering of the Parliament of King Edward 1). The stonemasons clearly had a lot of fun in their work: the carvings include animals, mythical beasts, angels and all manner of human faces, some beautiful, some grotesque and some downright funny. It's a wonderful touch of humanity amongst all the grandeur of the Minster. 

Cherubic tears

One of the reasons I love exploring our great cathedrals and minsters is that, although they are grand and packed full of significant and often breathtaking architecture, stained glass, plaques and monuments to the great and good, they also have lots of touches of humour and pathos. Wandering around York Minster this time, I started to notice all the weeping cherubs. There must have been a time when these were very trendy to have on monuments. Aww. 

There was also an imposing lady with a cross, a sword and... a pigeon on her head! I'm not at all sure why.