Early one morning...

For the last 12 years of my working life, I was regularly up at 6am to be in the office before 8. I often used to imagine those early morning walks I'd take once I retired... though I knew at heart I was a night owl rather than a lark. Now happily in retirement, I've been somewhat surprised to find I'm one of those people who doesn't really get going until about 10am. Morning walks haven't featured very much! So, when the forecast was for a heavy frost overnight, I was quite proud of myself that I put the alarm on and heaved myself out of bed and into the chill. I walked in somewhat of a daze, it has to be said, but it was still pleasant to find myself out there for once with the early commuters, joggers and dog walkers.

In the event the frost in this fairly urban neighbourhood wasn't as heavy as I'd anticipated and the sunrise was unspectacular. I still enjoyed the subtle colours and the way the low sun caught the tops of the trees, many still clinging on to their autumn leaves, though it was mid-November. The frost meant the leaves were tumbling down all around me, making soft sounds like gentle rain.

Across the fields, the lodge that once guarded the entrance gates to Titus Salt Jnr's Milner Field mansion positively glowed in the sunshine. The geese, roosting on the field, seemed as dazed as I was at that early hour.

I was a little disappointed that the sun wasn't yet high enough to make magic along the river, and there was only a faint haze of mist on the water. Surprisingly, there were three rowers out from the rowing club, getting their morning exercise, all clad in neon yellow life vests. That wasn't especially what I wanted in my photos and I had to be careful to time my shots to avoid them!

Where the sun was yet to penetrate, the frost rimed the fallen leaves.

It was a worthwhile endeavour; gratifying to come home to a warm house, decent coffee and my bowl of porridge - and with the smug satisfaction of having already clocked my target steps for the day!

The United Reformed Church

I've taken so many photos of Saltaire's magnificent Grade 1 listed church, I've enough to fill a calendar and more. (One day I might make one!) There are only really two good view points: head-on down the drive, as here, or from the north side as seen from the canal towpath. (See HERE). I have to complain that Sir Titus Salt and his Victorian architects did not consider the building from a photographic viewpoint (!) as the sun only illuminates the building satisfactorily in the early morning. Later in the day it moves round to be an annoying backlight. In fairness, I suppose the trees that surround the church weren't so big in the early days so the church would have stood out more. If you can work within the limitations, however, it is a really wonderful building to photograph, and the overall scene looks so different depending on the seasons.

Two trees in high summer

Those two trees near Dowley Gap again... I notice that it is getting harder to find a viewpoint that gives a separation between the leaves. They're getting fatter! A few years ago, their spread was rather less, as you can see if you click the 'two trees' label below. The grass is longer too. Perhaps the cows and horses have been grazing elsewhere. This was taken a week or two ago. Now some of our trees are already looking a bit autumnal; I think they will lose their leaves early this year.

Autumn, winter, spring?

We've had quite a few dull, damp, misty days lately, when the daylight never really seems to fully arrive. I find this time of year unutterably depressing if I let myself fall into the slough of despond. I need to motivate myself to get out and experience it anyway. Luckily, I've good friends who enjoy a walk too, so we donned our boots and waterproofs and did a seven miler right from our own front doors, hardly touching a road in the process. Actually, I felt overdressed in the end as it was very mild and after a while the act of walking itself generates quite some heat, especially going uphill. Though I was glad of the waterproof layers when I slipped in my muddy boots on a rock and landed on my behind in the mud!  My camera was, thankfully, unscathed, as was I. Nature is in transition; some trees never seem to lose their autumn leaves and then careful observation discovers some spring bulbs, mostly snowdrops, poking their way into the light. The photo is taken in the woods around Heaton.

Separated

On one of my regular walks, I pass a couple of my favourite trees and I have photographed them in all seasons. They look especially good in winter when you can see their 'bone structure'. Walking in the opposite direction from my usual route one day, I thought this one looked good from this side too, though I don't know how it will feel about being separated from its twin. To see the pair, click the 'two trees' label below.

Two trees, two horses

Or maybe three horses.... it was hard to tell from that distance. My two favourite trees were providing shelter for the horses, though whether it was shade they were after or protection from the oncoming rain shower, I couldn't say.

Snowdrop cascade

Another welcome sign of spring's rebirth, snowdrops are blooming in Saltaire's Roberts Park. Peeping through the dead leaves in a cascade down the rockery, their heads bowed, they look like a procession of penitents.

Autumn joy

Another abstracty one - sometimes I just feel like taking pictures of nothing more than light. Trees reflected in the canal show definite hints that autumn is here.

The shimmery gold mirrors my mood. I'm delighted to say that my new granddaughter was born safely yesterday, a healthy 7lb 5oz. Her name is Madeleine Lily, which I love and am touched by, as Madeline (slightly different spelling) was my late mum's name. Quite unlike her older sister, who was introduced to the world rather abruptly and very early, this one was rather shy to arrive, being a good week or so overdue.  Hoping to see her later this week and one day I'll post a photo, promise.

Look up (when you're feeling down)

Spring is everywhere. A haze of bronze anticipates the unfurling leaves of an old copper beech tree.

Elsewhere the magnolia trees are in bloom, showy but short-lived. The blossoms look wonderful against a blue spring sky.

When they have faded, we will have cherry, apple and hawthorn blossom to look forward to - and lady lace prettifying the hedgerows.

I love spring.

Small delights

Sometimes February just feels to me like endless, hostile flatlands, something to be slogged through with my mind fixed firmly on the brighter, more vibrant terrain ahead. But then something stops me in my tracks and reminds me that each season is important and that transition times are necessary to life. I was charmed by the tableau above: autumn leaves clinging doggedly to their branches whilst alongside are bright yellow catkins, shouting defiance to the grey skies and singing softly of spring to come.  Such a gentle patchwork of colour, prettily reflected in the canal beneath. Delightful, don't you think?

Belated HNY

Wishing everyone a belated but sincere Happy New Year. Apologies that I'm not getting round to taking any new photos yet, never mind actual blogging. I am being productive in my spare time but just in different ways at the moment. In common with many others in this country and abroad, the weather hasn't exactly been conducive to getting out and about much either, with lots of rain and strong winds. My thoughts are with blog-friends in the northern USA - those low temperatures sound scary.  It's been lovely stopping by a few blogs to taste summer in Australia!

There have been  a few sunnier days here - mostly when I've been at work, of course. I took this shot when I went out for a walk on Boxing Day. It's the Coppice Pond at St Ives, Bingley. You may recall a similar viewpoint on a more autumnal day - here.

Autumn leaves

The Rowan or Mountain Ash tree has leaves that turn a nice shade of magenta in the autumn. Sadly, this year, they have not been able to stay on the trees for long due to the wind and rain we've had.  You have to look down to see the beauty now, not up.

Autumn windfall

There are more leaves on the ground than on some of our trees now - and yes, this is Autumn in Old England, not Fall in New England. (But with the occasional vivid red leaf among the yellow and brown ones, who would know?) Wind, rain and mild weather have combined to ensure that Britain's autumn this year is nowhere near as spectacular as last year's was. It is still possible to find some inspirational images though. This is just how the leaves fell, I didn't arrange them.

By the way, I have not finished with my USA trip photos yet, it's just taking me a while to work through them.

Autumn by The Boathouse

Autumn tones by the River Aire in Roberts Park, Saltaire. And yes, it was raining hard at the time!

Harvest

There is that biblical phrase 'the fields are white for the harvest' but I had never really noticed how white the fields are after the harvest, until I visited my sister's home the other day. She lives in rural Lincolnshire, down a fairly isolated lane in the flat agricultural lands. This huge field is just beside her house, the harvest already gathered. (Wheat? I don't know, not being a country girl). I think this year has been much kinder to farmers and gardeners than the past few. My sister has an old cooking-apple tree in her garden and it is laden with fruit. We picked blackberries too, hundreds of them, lush and ripe. I have purple fingernails now, stained with juice!

Settled majesty

'There is a serene and settled majesty to woodland scenery that enters into the soul and delights and elevates it, and fills it with noble inclinations.' Washington Irving

Two trees in summer

Those two trees again, showing another seasonal face.

For other photos of these trees, please click the 'two trees' label below.

Eggstravaganza

Shipley College, based in Saltaire, offer a floristry course. I imagine it was their students who created this Easter/Spring inspired display in the window of the Old Dining Hall. I liked the way it linked with the reflection of the old lampost and the Salts Mill building across the road.

Small is beautiful

Miniature daffodils fit prettily into even the smallest of Saltaire gardens. Spring flowers are a welcome sight after the very long winter. I'm frustrated with myself that my own small garden does not in the least resemble this. Must try harder!

Narnia

A few sunny and somewhat warmer days have encouraged signs of spring in Saltaire. This cherry tree seems to have started blossoming from the ground up - do they always do that? If they do, I've never noticed before. It reminds me of the coming of Spring in Narnia!