Wedding cars

As I walked past Saltaire's church the other day there was a fine selection of Bentleys outside. It looked like they were doing a photoshoot, perhaps for a wedding car hire company. There was a chap with a drone, no doubt intending to take some photos looking down from a height. 

The cars in the background are not related to the shoot. The church now seems to allow people to park in the grounds, presumably making a bit of money from the fees. Every little helps when you're responsible for the upkeep of a listed building. 

Rainbow glass

More colour from Salts Mill. You know how fond I am of stained glass windows. Well, coloured glassware comes a close second. I'm especially drawn to blue glass and, when I finally get into my hoped-for new apartment, I have several vases and bottles that I anticipate will sit happily on the kitchen windowsill. Given the number of pieces on display in the Antiques Centre, I could easily add to my collection. 

Some folk collect old bottles like those below. The vintage glass has a turquoise hue that is quite attractive. 

More vases, displayed so that the incoming window light makes the colours sing. 

Those who follow Alan Burnett's blog, News from Nowhere, may recognise a few of these vases. They are, it seems, still unsold and gathering dust after at least four years. Apologies to Alan for apparently 'stealing' his image. It so happens that sometimes great minds think alike! 

Colour in t'Mill

It is all so colourless outside at this time of year, so I went into Salts Mill in search of some colour to lift my spirits. 

Sewing threads in the Antiques Centre made quite a rainbow. (Note to self, next time I need any thread this is the place to come!) 

The lid of an antique sewing box had a gorgeous, iridiscent inlay of abalone shell mother of pearl. 

It was too heavy to carry or I may have been tempted by this Burmantofts Pottery jardinière (for displaying a plant), in lovely colours with an art-nouveau pattern. My spider plant would be very happy atop that. 

In the 1853 Gallery they have some covetable notebooks, along with lots of artists' materials. The paint sample card made a bright rainbow too, as did the tubes of acrylic paint. 

 

Stirrings

We are still in the depths of winter. The trees are bare, the grasses and reeds collapsed, the air frigid even on a blue sky day and, if the temperature isn't actually freezing the ground hard, then everywhere is thick with mud. On the small nature reserve on the edge of Saltaire, the pond was - as far as I could see - devoid of life, though not frozen over. The duck houses, one of them floating, were bare. Perhaps in the spring they will provide a refuge for something, if not necessarily a duck. There's something about a blue sky reflected that lifts my spirits though. 

Look closely and there are other things to be cheered by too. There was a small shrub covered in pink blossoms. I think it's a winter flowering Viburnum x bodnantense. I suppose it is because I associate pink blossom with spring that this plant always seems such an encouragement in these dark, cold months. 

In the borders, and in my tubs in my back yard, bulbs are already sending up their green shoots.

This camellia in the nature reserve had large buds. (The colour at the back is an information board). 

On my way through the park I noticed yellow crocus starting to flower, though the ground there is completely waterlogged. I'm sure they don't usually appear until mid-February. I want to say to these plants to stay furled and not to bloom yet. We surely have some more cold weather and perhaps even snow still to come and they will get browned and crushed. It seems to me that nature has lost its rhythm just a bit.

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.