Some Lychnis coronaria or Silene coronaria, also known as rose campion, photographed in summer in one of my pet-sitting client's gardens.
According to Wikipedia, 'The Latin coronaria means "used for garlands"'.
Some Lychnis coronaria or Silene coronaria, also known as rose campion, photographed in summer in one of my pet-sitting client's gardens.
According to Wikipedia, 'The Latin coronaria means "used for garlands"'.
I captured this rosa canina, commonly known as dog rose, and bearing the fruit, rose hip (though not fruiting when I photographed it) on my walk past Grove Park Nature Reserve to Hither Green Cemetery earlier in the month.
There are various theories for the origins of the plant's name. As you might imagine, my favoured one (though likely not scientifically proven) is that the plant can cure the bite of a mad or rabid dog.
As with many flowers and plants, it's the county flower in one country (Hampshire, England) and an invasive weed in others (NZ and Australia).
But it is pretty.
Some allium giganteum, or giant onions, I photographed in Helmingham Hall's gardens in June 2017, the last time my parents visited the UK.
Not the edible kind of onions. But the bees like them, and they're pretty.
A couple of flowering Camellia japonica trees brighten up the churchyard of St Peter's Church in Delamere.
Life and death side by side.
Sometimes, my pet-sitting includes fishies.
This post isn't the first time I've shared a photograph of hedge bindweed for my series, a floral tribute. And I'm sure this won't be the last.
Despite being considered a noxious weed in the US and being able to overwhelm and pull down cultivated plants, including shrubs and small trees, and potentially toxic to humans and animals, I think the flowers are beautiful. I tend to photograph them in most places I find them.
In particular, because they're often found in the least beautiful places: by railway lines where people have tossed their trash, growing by or over derelict structures, in the overgrown perimeters of parks and other tended spaces (often alongside brambles and, in this case, stinging nettles).
Reading more about them, they seem like something out of a horror film: they can self-seed, and their seeds can remain viable for as long as 30 years. And whole plants can regrow from discarded roots. Apply those concepts to "dead" humans, and you have the storyline of many of my favourite horror films and novels.
Some hypoxylon I stumbled across in Brockley and Ladywell Cemeteries a few weeks ago.
After so much time away from home, I've finally caught up on most things, excluding sleep.
Unfortunately, poor wee Dougal had an operation on Monday afternoon and is still recovering, so we cancelled my sitting with him. His owner and I both hope he comes good soon.
As much as I don't like to hear about Dougal being poorly, having more time at home has been helpful for my mental health and catching up on life admin.
I will still go to Bromley on Friday evening until Monday to sit my regulars plus one.
In the meantime, I'm pleased to be home and that the repairs to the building are currently paused between the roof replacement and re-pointing (and then painting).
Footpath reconstruction is due to start on our section of the road next Tuesday, so it would seem I chose the ideal time to GTFO of Dodge.
All of these things are well overdue, but so is my sleep!
If I'm being honest, that's the one thing I'm looking forward to most with my time away: some relaxation, alongside catching up with family and friends. I suspect it will still end up hectic.
I woke to a less-than-positive update about an extended family member in Australia today, but I'm hoping the cause proves to be minor. At least, hopefully, I can be of some assistance during my stay.
I've managed to import the photos I took in Brockley and Ladywell Cemetery one day while sitting Mia. And those of Jilly I took with my D700 during my sitting with her. I hope to share some of these with you soon, along with other photos and artwork.
In the meantime, please enjoy a few photos of The Nut in Stanley, Tasmania, I took in 2018. I didn't know this was a volcanic plug until I looked it up to link you to more information. And I didn't know what a volcanic plug was until now.
Photography feeds my curious mind.
Sorry once again for the radio silence.
As I mentioned in my post of images from Bosham back on 10 February, I had some worrying news about my Mum.
At 19:20 GMT on 28 February, I found out my Mum passed away 10 minutes earlier (though, technically, she passed away at 06:10 on 1 March 2023 AEST. Time differences are weird when dealing with someone's time of death).
So, as you might expect, I've needed some time to process that.
As I do in these situations, I've been writing.
It took time, and there were many tears along the way.
I'm currently editing photographs of Mum and photos taken by Mum to go with the piece.
I'll share it here and on my blog as soon as it's ready. Hopefully, tomorrow but definitely in the coming days.
In the meantime, here are some Agrostemma (common corncockles) I photographed in the gardens at Helmingham Hall on the last road trip I took with Mum and Dad in 2017.
Hold your loved ones tightly.
Some Dimorphotheca ecklonis I captured in St Kilda Cemetery on the first day of Spring in 2007.
And some beautiful monarch butterflies hanging out amongst them.
I took these photos after going to my old GP practice for a check-up because of some odd sensations I'd been experiencing.
That appointment resulted in me having blood tests that revealed I had vitamin D deficiency and B12 anaemia for the first time.
Good times...
Bistorta amplexicaulis, the red bistort or mountain fleece.
From Wikipedia: 'The Latin specific epithet amplexicaulis means "clasping or embracing the stem", and refers to the leaves' habit of growing around the stem.'