Etched Behind Eyelids | May 2021
May was a wet month, and it seemed to do nothing but rain for days on end. Hopefully we’ll have a good berry crop at the end of summer from such a wet start to spring, and as I write this at the very end of the month the forecast is looking up.
I took my camera with me on my evening walk, something I don’t do as much these days as I tend to like to go for a walk without a camera or my headphones to distract me. I have really needed these walks, they’ve helped me clear my mind each day of the jumble of thoughts and worries about the future I can’t escape from at the moment. Life has not been easy these past six months and my daily walk is something I really rely on at the moment. It’s funny, I used to always take my headphones and my camera with me when I went for a walk and wouldn’t dream of going out without my music. I still enjoy listening to podcasts and music from time to time, but I have found listening to the world around me really relaxing, too. I love hearing the birds sing and the wind in the trees, and even the rhythmic sound of my own footsteps.
Raindrops falling on Bracebridge Pool in Sutton Park one quiet Sunday evening.
Selective close focus and a long lens; this is taken through my living room window and there’s an ugly block of flats across the road from me I managed to crop out by composing for the green of the silver birch which is now in full leaf.
Mum and Dad came up to Birmingham for the day at the end of the month and the three of us went to the Botanical Gardens together. Ed was out at a race, but we’d celebrated Mum’s and Ed’s birthday together before he left with a chocolate cake I had made the day before. It was a lovely day, and one I know I’ll remember.
The vascular one has reached his mid thirties. The Summer of Thirty-Four is upon us (there are three months each summer where we’re the same age).
A walk in the forest up at Cannock Chase. It was the first time we’d been up there since the pandemic, and perhaps even since the spring or summer of 2019. The forest is actively managed and so there were patches of new growth, and gaps where just two years ago towering conifers had stood. It made navigating the paths a bit tricky as everything looked different with points of reference altered.
Saying “don’t climb on the logs” to me and Ed is a little bit like saying “don’t press the red button” on an escalator to toddlers.
May’s video to follow, once I’ve edited it.