Travelling Light

Morning train

These are last week’s pictures of my train journey to Doncaster: the train at Heckington in grey morning light and then the view of fields and the sun coming up, seen from the train window.

I had been feeling a bit lost and disconnected for a few days, worried about work and money, uncertain about the future: perhaps suffering from a sense of anti-climax after passing the first anniversary of moving here.

But my spirits rose waiting at the station in the half light. Then, travelling while the sun came up, noticing sunrise being a little earlier, I felt excited and full of hope, my steps lighter. Nothing had changed except the sun had risen, just as it does every morning, every dawn. But perhaps every new dawn has a bit of magic in it.

Sunrise on the tracks

Losing the thread

Teasels

Two weeks have drifted by since my post written in the very first hours of 2014, when our New Year guests had gone to bed and I was contemplating the peculiar beauty of a post-dinner-party table. The crumpled napkins, stray unused cutlery, empty glasses gleaming in the last light from sputtering candles, all seemed to hold a faint essence of the people who had been eating and talking there, like ghost or dream-guests come out to play round the festive table while their corporeal selves were peacefully asleep.

This point in the year is always a hiatus, a gap in the normal order of things. Visitors come and go: extended family, friends from other countries, small grandchildren. The house is full of food, the garden is cold and wet. Without our dogs we have been outside even less than usual at this time of year.

And it is outside that makes me write and think, outside where the fields are abstract paintings; where greens and browns are soaked in light and the black of winter hedgerows is deep enough to drown in; where the ploughed earth is rich, scented, edible and my connection to it visceral.

So no outdoors means no blog posts, or not so many at least.

Yesterday I went to Doncaster and took pictures of sunrise and railway tracks on the way, pictures intended for here but I’ve written a different kind of post.

Today’s picture is from a walk of two or three weeks ago and very like lots of photos I took early last year. Passing my blog anniversary and the festive break has left me musing about what this year’s blogging will bring. Will my pictures all be like ones from the same time last year?

I didn’t expect photographs to become such a big part of the blog when I began it in Manchester; but I have loved taking them and looking at them. The landscape always looks like a picture to me now. I wish I could paint it as well as photograph it.

In any case, time to get out more – if only, today, as far as the end of the garden to fetch swede and leeks for supper.

More art + church

Window

I’ve been hanging out in church all weekend, besotted with video installation by Dutch artist Pat van Boeckel. It is part of the ALTered project to do with art in Lincolnshire churches that I wrote about earlier this week (Modern art in a medieval world) and there is more to come next weekend.

The image above, taken from my attempt to film using my iPad, gives you just a tiny idea of what it was like – this is part of a projection onto the back wall of the church which made the stone look like windows with people peering through them.

It was surprising, funny, moving, thought-provoking – what a treat, just yards from our own front door. And magical – like something from Narnia, Elidor, Philip Pullman, Harry Potter (solid stone or the back of a wardrobe becomes a doorway into somewhere else; people in one world look through to another, not knowing what they see).

There was more great stuff. Can’t describe it all – look forward to more art in churches – what a lovely project.

Not much work done in the garden today as a result of all this art – just as well tomorrow is a bank holiday!