Broom Hill (near Soudley), Forest of Dean, England.
I wanted to be able to title this post as something relating to English bluebells, because the bluebell-blanketed forest is what was sought. But weather has not been on the bluebells’ side this year, so most of the bluebells have yet to emerge. However, the fresh green of new leaves was a lovely sight in and of itself.
I hope to return to the Forest of Dean next week to view the English bluebells in all their spring splendor.
Barbary Macaque at the Top of the Rock, Gibraltar.
The macaques of Gibraltar are famous. For many, seeing and interacting with the monkeys is a top reason for visiting the Top of the Rock. On our visit, my husband got a little more interaction than he’d bargained for.
We came upon a cluster of macaques, joining a small crowd of people who were already interacting with some of the monkeys. The monkeys are remarkably tame so, although specifically instructed not to feed or touch the monkeys (they are wild and sometimes unpredictable animals, after all), many were attempting to pet or get very close to the monkeys to pose for photos.
One macaque sat low in a tree, but apart from the rest, seemingly doing his or her best to ignore and stay away from all the human attention.
My husband put his water bottle down in order to adjust his jacket when, like a flash, the apparently inattentive monkey sprang from its perch and grabbed the water bottle. But equally quick and nimble, my husband grabbed hold of the bottle just as the monkey was turning to head off with its prize. A struggle ensued. There was a lot of tugging. And some laughing.
And a bit of glaring. In the end, my husband arose the victor, much to the annoyance of the most determined monkey.
But wait! What intimidation won’t achieve, guilt and sympathy might.
My husband is a very generous, warm-hearted man. I’d bet he faced some internal conflict when looking into those beseeching eyes. But after a short moment, the monkey must have realize that it had been bested, so it returned to its perch in the tree and promptly ignored us forever more. Cheeky monkey.
Greetings on this fine, sunny, spring day. Wow! It feels so good to be able to say that!
My husband and I just returned from a low-key yet really enjoyable holiday in Dublin, Ireland. Even though I took far fewer photos than usual, I’m slowly going through them, wanting to post, but not quite ready yet. Why? Because ever since our return, the weather has been so incredibly beautiful that I can’t bring myself to do anything other than sit in our back garden and soak up the sunshine. And take a few photos of nearby blooms and bugs.
Not long ago I ordered some lens attachments, one of which is a 10x Macro that screws onto the end of my camera lens. It doesn’t get as close up as I’d like and I have to focus manually, which can be quite a challenge when the depth of field is so narrow, but I’ve been having fun with it and its results, including the photo of this fly, which looks strangely metallic and more reminiscent of a sci fi creature than of a welcome, if somewhat pesky, sign of spring’s arrival. At last.
Denali National Park and Preserve, Alaska (Sept. 2004).
My misty mood continues back in time to a chilly September day in Alaska. Sunlight, diffused by the thick layer of slowly rising fog, barely illuminated the fall colors, which were already muted by frost. The stunted black spruce and the colorful, low-lying shrubs were silent and unmoving. All was quiet.
Misty Day at Fanore Beach, Ireland.
Along an Irish coastal road (R477) south of Galway Bay is Fanore Beach. As home to a surf school, the waters just to the south and outside of the frame of this picture were filled with a cluster of surfers of varying skill levels. However, besides the surfer-cluster, the beach was relatively human free. Looking at this now, I want to take a stroll along the beach and enjoy the solitude.
A while back, as I went through my photos of the Irish coast, I came across this photo and stopped. There was something about it. I even got it ready to post, but I never did.
Today, I’ve been in something of a misty mood, so I revisited that same batch of photos. As I scrolled through them, I stopped at this one and thought, “Ooh.” It’s subtle, but there was something about it. Thinking maybe I should post it, I went to reduce it for upload and noticed that I already had. If I oohed at the same photo twice, independently, I think I must like that photo. So I decided to share it and hope you “ooh” too.
The day was misty and drizzly. At the time, I would have liked better weather, but my understanding is that the west coast of Ireland is often misty and drizzly. Now, I like to think that maybe I captured the coastal essence and that’s what draws me in.
Generalife Palace with Views of the Alhambra and Granada beyond.
An upper terrace provides an expansive view of the Alhambra and Granada with a glimpse of the Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance.
Recently, I posted a photo of the Alhambra Palace and Granada, Spain, as viewed from inside a Generalife Palace room. That room is located in the far corner of this building just at the end of the colonnade.
A note about this image: I took it with a backlight correction setting. Unfortunately, the multiple exposures resulted in ghosts. Or maybe not. I feel like a part of my soul still connects me with the Alhambra. Perhaps my magic camera captured the otherwise invisible hold the Palace may place on all those who visit.
Conor Pass Waterfall, Dingle Peninsula, Ireland.
After an overnight in Tralee, Ireland, my husband and I planned to head out bright and early for a full-day trip around the Dingle Peninsula. Our innkeeper recommended that we take Conor Pass over the mountains to the town of Dingle. We were warned that the Pass is very narrow, winding, and sometimes treacherous, but (on a clear day) the spectacular views are worth it.
As we traveled along the Irish coast south of Tralee, we were hopeful as the visibility was good below the low cloud cover. We hoped that the clouds would lift or blow past by the time we reached the top of the Pass or that the cloud bank was just low on the north side of the mountains.
We were not so lucky. We drove into the clouds, literally, on a narrow, winding, and sometimes treacherous road. The closer we were to the top, the steeper both sides of the road became.
Even without the benefit of the view, our innkeeper had also mentioned a waterfall near the top of the Pass. The misty clouds hugging the purple and grey rocks obscured much, so we were fortunate that we didn’t miss the roadside waterfall. We parked our car in the small lot and stepped out into a lonely, foreign landscape.
What might have been an ordinary mountainside on any other day was transformed by the thick fog. Despite the half-dozen other visitors, the mountainside seemed a quiet, forlorn place.
The waterfall appeared to emerge magically from the mist.
Before cascading over rocks only to disappear down the steep, invisible mountainside.
Continuing on, we arrived at the top of the Pass and pulled our car into the viewpoint’s car park. We were at the summit of the highest mountain pass in Ireland, but the fog was as thick as ever. What we should have seen at this point was a green, rock strewn valley with a smattering of lakes and steep, stacked mountains stretching all the way to the North Atlantic. (If you’d like to see what the view on a clear day looks like, check out this beautiful photograph. If you do, be sure to check out the full-sized image).
Instead of expansive views of mountains and sea, we had to make do with fence posts vanishing in the not-very-distant distance.
I find that trips seldom go exactly as planned, so it’s best to keep expectations in check and to enjoy the unfolding experience as best you can. Sometimes the expected would have been great, but the actual is worthy of appreciation, whatever that actual might be.
Barbary Macaque, Gibraltar.
Tarifa, Spain, viewed from Isla de Las Palomas with the Atlantic Ocean on the left and the Mediterranean Sea on the right.
Just off the coast of Tarifa, Spain, sits Isla de Las Palomas, which is the southern-most point of mainland Europe. This point also marks the dividing line between the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. And it has the signs to prove it!
The island is connected to Tarifa by an elevated causeway. Although one can walk to the island, access onto the island-proper is restricted as it is owned by the Ministry of Defense.
At the end point of the causeway, my husband and I were buffeted by the Strait of Gibraltar’s strong winds as we stood between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Note the two indicator signs on either side of the road.
The Atlantic to the west.
The Mediterranean to the east.
From here one can see Africa…
Across a relatively calm sea.
Just on the other side of the road is the western edge of Isla de Las Palomas as it is struck by Atlantic swells with wind-swept white caps.
But the Atlantic isn’t always so aggressive. As the afternoon turned to evening, the winds died down, making the Atlantic appear more subdued.
And then all seemed calm. Beyond a quiet Mediterranean cove, at the distant harbor’s edge, stands the statue of Virgen Del Carmen*, patron saint of the sea and those who fish there. A fitting choice given that, here, two great and unpredictable forces meet.
*Or it could be a statue of Jesus or St. Francis or ?…. Internet sources disagree. I’ll have to keep looking into this.
View of the Alhambra Palace and Granada, Spain, from the Generalife Palace.
Previously, I shared photos of one of my favorite outdoor “rooms” in the Alhambra Palace’s Generalife Gardens. Today, I share an airy and exotic room within the Generalife Palace (constructed for monarchs as a leisure area within the Generalife Gardens). I hope you enjoy the view!
