Roseland

Up country and down the Roseland peninsula to the other, the posh soft, St Just for lunch in the sub-tropical church yard and then a tranquil, soothing wander round to Messack Point and back.

Origami unfolding.

origami
click to enlarge

Dragons tiptoeing into the stream.

dragon paddle
click to enlarge

Penny pies in a shambling Cornish hedge.

hedge pies
click to enlarge

What you lookin’ at? Come on then … think yerr ‘ard enough? A sort of Waitrose Rack of Lamb farm full of beautifully cared-for sheep, all with shaved arses like a maternity ward.

mother and child
click to enlarge

And finally to Messack Point itself looking across the Carrick Roads to Falmouth harbour.

fal trees
click to enlarge

With its own spontaneous, emergent art installation.

corpse
click to enlarge
roots
click to enlarge
onement
click to enlarge

And then back through the woods along the Fal.

conjoined
click to enlarge

And a spectacularly crippled oak, broken-backed but still immensely powerful … positively majestic.

broke back oak
click to enlarge

The weather was sublime and I totally failed to catch the little pod of dolphins we saw, porpoising upstream on camera … bugger … ho hum.

Pareidolia

face in stream
click to enlarge

Just a pebble in the brook … OK. Know how he feels.
Oh, to not live in interesting times.
Pareidolia: as in the Face on Mars or the Man in the Moon

The Desolation of Capital

door
click to enlarge

Spent the afternoon clambering around the post-apocalyptic scifi, giants’ legoland desolation of the St Just Mining District (a World Heritage Site).

lego
click to enlarge

Must have been hell on earth as men delved far out under the sea, digging for tin, copper or whatever was profitable this week, and men women and children processed the stuff up on the cliffs above, smashing rocks and scraping arsenic with their bare hands … at the edge of the world … spending their lives making money for scum.

tomb
click to enlarge

And thankfully there have been no attempts to prettify or sanitise anything.

columns
click to enlarge

It is hard and raw and grim and still wild and beautiful …

until it all disappeared into the gloaming and the fog.

Relict

relict
click to enlarge

The other day I read someone’s photographs described as: “aggressively boring”. Liked that. Interesting. Weird.