Sunset on the Lake

Sunset over Lake Garda

Another old picture, this time from a family holiday to the town of Bardolino by Lake Garda in Italy. It's a really lovely area and a great spot for a holiday - this fact was reinforced when I went to uni and the subject came up in conversation one night, it turned out that of the four people in the room, three of us had been holiday to the exact same town!

Most curious moment of the holiday: going for an evening walk by the lakeside we came across a concert being held by an Italian Pink Floyd tribute band, in aid of the orphans of the Chernobyl crisis. It also featured one of the orphans rapping in Ukrainian. The ceremonies were conducted in both Italian and German, and I was just about able to get the gist of what was going on and explain to my family. Never have I felt so proud of my dodgy grasp of the German language.

Flutter By

Butterfly in London Zoo's Butterfly Paradise

It's a butterfly! And a very pretty one too. I like going in butterfly houses and admiring the pretties (and also, they're really warm and cosy, which is nice when there's snow on the ground outside). Admittedly I am less keen when they flap in my face, but as long as they're hanging off leaves looking pretty/eating rotten fruit, I'm happy.

While we were in the butterfly house, my boyfriend told me that some butterflies drink blood. Thinking he had gone briefly mad, I laughed and said he was confusing them with bats. But no! I was entirely wrong. It was there in black-and-white on one of the signs in the exibit. I googled it, and found this picture of butterflies drinking blood from a sock. Yes, you heard me. A sock. If you didn't know already, it turns out that butterflies are one of the sock's few natural predators. Also, here is a National Geographic article about vampire moths. Apparently in Slavic folklore, vampires were able to take the form of butterflies.

This whole discovery has rather changed the way I view these insects. I used to think they were nice decorative creatures to have around the place, sort of like nature's bunting. Now I know they are opportunistic greedy blood-sucking horrors. The butterfly house will never be the same again.

Wax & Wane

A photograph of a candle, in case you had difficulty working that out. Wikipedia, my trusty guide, tells me that while modern candles are usually made of paraffin, back in the day they could be made from beeswax, tallow, or even spermaceti extracted from the head of a sperm whale. Poor sperm whales. I was amused to note that their scientific name is physeter macrocephalus. I confess don't know what "physeter" means, but "macrocephalus" translates as "bloody big head".

I was also intrigued to discover that sperm whales have the largest mammalian brain both in proportion to its body size and mass, and is the only living creature that has a gullet large enough to swallow a human whole. The most famous sperm whale is obviously Moby Dick, but I have to admit that I wasn't a fan of the book. The only aspects of it that I really enjoyed were the ones in which Herman Melville got into the scientific aspects of whaling. There's nothing like the smug feeling of reading an author whose book you're not enjoying strenuously denying the existence of the blue whales we now know really do exist. Okay, so Melville was a Victorian living in the pre-Attenborough age, but that's not the point.

The thing I like most about this charming and very very orange flower, is it's scrunched up curly-wurly petal. The thing I like least is my photography skills. WHY GOD WHY did I have to cut half the petals out of the shot? It looks very ungainly. Originally this was not going on the blog for that precise reason, but I'm so low on picture stocks right now that I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel. Or possibly bouquet.

Oh well. Into each life some rain must fall.

So I've been racking my brains to think of something interesting to discuss in this post but unfortunately I have realised that I'm not very good at it. I have lots of interesting thoughts whilst wandering around the place, but few when sat at the computer. What I need is a dictaphone. Then I can be one of those people who strides around the place grasping a small black box to my face and shouting "NOTE TO SELF: TURN OVEN OFF" and "MUST BUY BINBAGS".

Ooh, binbags!

"What a dull topic!", I hear you cry. "There is nothing exciting about binbags!"

That is where you are wrong. Did you know that the binbag was invented by Herbert A. Resplendency-Potts of Wiltshire in 1894, after a careless servant dropped a lead dustbin on his foot? Of course you don't, because it's a huge lie. In fact, they were invented in the 1950s by three Canadians, who to the best of my knowledge had suffered no garbage-related trauma. But it's not such a good story.

Also exciting are the novelty Christmas pudding binbags which I recently came across in John lewis. I was extremely excited ...until I realised that I don't take out the rubbish. But one day, when I have my own house, my rubbish will out-Christmas everyone else's. Plus, even when it's not Christmas you can get these novelty goldfish binbags. Your neighbours probably won't judge you at all.

Purple Zebra

A zebra-striped iris. Apparently irises get their name from the Greek word for 'rainbow', because they come in so many different colours. Without much hope of success, I typed the words "purple iris" into Google to attempt to identify this fine specimen, and sure enough I completely failed at my task. But I'm pretty sure it's an iris of some description! What more do you need?

A Brief History of Thyme

In Ancient Egypt, thyme was used in the embalming process; in ancient Greece, it was used as incense and believed to be a source of courage; the Romans spread the herb across Europe through their use of it to purify their rooms and flavour certain foods; in the Middle Ages it was used to ward off nightmares and promote a good night's sleep.

Okay, I'm done now. Thanks again, Wikipedia!

Obviously the above photograph is not of a thyme plant, it's some kind of very pretty iris, one of my favourite kinds of flower.

On The Cusp

I love orange! As, presumably, does this marmalade fly, episyrphus balteatus. They're super common and live all over the place. Strangely I've never been a big fan of marmalade, despite my passion for all things orangey - it's much too bitter. Apparently the whole reason it's so bitter is that English marmalade uses Seville oranges for their high pectin content, which enables the preserve to set well - California marmalade uses sweet oranges (and is therefore probably much nicer).

Wikipedia tells us that in 1524, Henry VIII received a box of marmalade from a Mr Hull of Exeter, allthough quite why is unclear. Apparently it was originally made from quinces and imported into Britain in wooden boxes rather than jars, and it wasn't until the 1700s that it started to be eaten as an accompaniment rather than just as a sweetmeat in its own right.

I remember as a child I had high expectations regarding the deliciousness of marmalade, thanks to the charming Paddington Bear, who had such a serious addiction to the stuff that, were he human, questions would have been asked regarding his suitability as a role model for small children. As far as I was concerned at the time, however, if a cartoon bear liked it, then it must be pretty delicious. You can imagine my disappointment when I actually tried it.

The Classic

Aaaand it's a brief return to form with one of my favourite orange flower pictures.

This was taken at Buckfast Abbey. It's the home of a group of practising Benedictine monks, who are very devout and incidentally brew a highly caffeinated tonic wine famed as the scourge of Scotland and mentioned in over 5,000 crime reports in Strathclyde between 2006-9.

We only saw one monk while we were there, though, and as he was sitting on a wall with his head in his hands looking incredibly depressed I decided not to accost him and ask him about it. We did buy some wine, though, and took it home to try later. It tasted like alcoholic cough medicine.

On the plus side, as well as encouraging alcoholism in the distant north, the monks have some nice grounds including an interesting herb garden with plants segregated by use; medicinal, household, kitchen, and poison (amusingly, the poisonous plants were kept away from wayward hands by means of a small moat).

Sunshine After the Rain 2: Sunshine Harder

I am proud to announce that I have worked out what this flower is! Exciting because these were some of my favourite flowers to see this summer, even though I found them really tricky to get a good picture of. It is a crocosmia, although I have no clue what kind. The damp kind?

Anyway, this website proved helpful in narrowing it down! Even though all I really had to go on was "it's orange" and "it's probably not a tree", we got there.

Brightness

After all those drab rainy pictures, it's back to chirpy flowers! Although for how much longer, I can't say. I'm afraid my large backlog of photos is already starting to run low after only a month or two of blogging... eek. Hopefully this will provide the impetus required to go out and take lots more lovely pictures and not the impetus require to go "ah well, nevermind" and completely abandon this blog. That would be sad. But it's definitely trickier to enjoy photography in the winter. For one thing, the light's not as good; the flowers have all disappeared and (horror of horrors) sometimes it's pretty damp and chilly to be standing around taking forty pictures of the same tree to get it just right. And I refuse to post pictures which I don't actually like!

So I guess I better take advantage of whatever sunshine sees fit to grace our shores this September, and get snapping...

Incidentally in Ghana I noticed that they use the word "snap" in the same way we use the word "photo"; a photo is a snap, while to take a photo is to snap. I thought it was a cute usage of the word (although briefly confusing when people ask if you want to snap them...)

Sunshine After The Rain

I went on a trip to the local Botanical Gardens with my mother one day and we had the most peculiar weather. All in all it rained - heavily - on four separate occassions, but always at a relatively convenient moment; on our first trip to the tea rooms for lunch (delicious soup... tomato and chorizo, I believe, which I loved), then when we were standing right by the large greenhouses, then twice when we were back at the tea rooms, enjoying another couple of well-earned cups of tea. These gorgeous flowers (my mum told me their name and I promptly forgot. She would be very disappointed in me) grew all around the greenhouses, and when the sun suddenly emerged from behind the clouds, like an increasingly confident streaker at a public sports match, they looked fantastic, all damp and fresh from the rain.

Field of Gold

This photo was taken on an incredibly hot and sunny day, of a whole host of orange flowers growing outside a tumbledown greenhouse. As previous blog pictures can testify, I take quite a lot of photographs of orange flowers - I guess they must particularly appeal to me. It's such a cheerful colour that you can look over your photographs on a cold day and feel that summery glow all over again.

Rave Poppy

This poppy is just gorgeous, and I actually worked out what it is! Papaver orientale picotee, an oriental poppy. The colours are bright in this photo, but it's nothing compared to how bright they are on a sunny May day in a garden near Bristol.

Harlequin Ladybird

I had a lovely time taking some nice pictures of this ladybird last summer, so I was sad to find out that it's an invasive species and as far as the UK Ladybird Survey is concerned, it should be squished on sight and not treated to a photoshoot. Apparently in America it's known as the multicoloured asian lady beetle, which just seems an unnecessarily long name.

But it's not the harlequin's fault that his species is ruthlessly wiping out native ladybirds. He looks after his family, he keeps his shell shiny (if you look close you can see my reflection in the carapace), and I wouldn't be able to bring myself to squish him, even if we do meet again.