At long last the end is in sight, today marks the beginning of the end, there are ten more blogs to write and illustrate including this one and then I will have accomplished what I set out to do in as much as writing and photographing the days for a year, I’m almost there!

Last night’s weather forecast didn’t fail to deliver, a good frost and misty conditions they said and, for once, they got it spot on, beautiful it was as well. Crisp and crunchy underfoot, where yesterday had been just slush and slime, it was a pleasure to be out in the fresh, cold morning air as the sun struggled to make it’s presence felt through the heavy mists that carpeted the meadows and the river bank in the early morning light making the mundane seem more than mysterious at times.

Wandering the muddy margins of the riverbank with the puddles and the rushes frozen and frosted there was a touch of the ethereal, the other wordly. On several occasions I saw figures approaching from out of the mist, just bulky, indistinct shadows at a distance in the murk, mysterious, possibly malevolent, like wraiths until they came closer only to be revealed as fellow walkers enjoying the morning glory and passing with a pleasant ‘hello’ or fishermen tending rods and lines along the bankside. Such was the morning, ideal for allowing the mind and imagination to run wild and make the most out of the moment.

The walk along the river bank and down to the millpond and races at Fiddleford is always a pleasant stroll at anytime of the day and at anytime of the year, there is always something to see, to photograph. The slow old river gives up the submerged boughs and limbs of trees that have succumbed to the elements over time, on better days rendering them as sculptures, this morning they took on other forms, dark shapes, river monsters rising from the depths, the weather is set to change again in the coming days, the shapes will revert to normal and the margins will undoubtedly return to mud.

This afternoon’s wanderings were very rural, and very wet underfoot. I ventured out to Marnhull, to a gateway and footpath that have given me great views in the past, today my gateway was a muddy morass and the well trodden path down across the field was a path too far unfortunately, any attempt to walk it would have resulted in boots and clothing caked in good old Blackmore Vale mud. I chose the high ground where possible and skirted the edge of the field to a brick built edifice I’d noticed on a previous foray in the hope that it might provide some inspiration.

I’d noticed this building while photographing at another location and noted for future reference, from my earlier vantage point it looked as if it might be a shelter for animals or some such agricultural purpose, today, on close inspection, it appeared that it might at some time harboured aspirations as a dwelling, perhaps the appropriate consents couldn’t be obtained or perhaps they have and there will be further work taking place here in the future. For the moment it sits, a little forlornly, overlooking the vale and on out to Henstridge and the airfield where, today, the little planes were constantly buzzing, students practicing landings and take offs under a dramatic Dorset sky.

High above a buzzard circled and out across the landscape the sound of the hunting horn drifted up to where I was stood , looking down from the elevated position on the hillside I could see the hunt strung out in the fields below searching for a quarry who would hopefully lose the hounds and get safely to ground. I moved on, skirting the worst of the muddy field, keeping to the field margins, moving downhill towards the river I knew would be flowing over the weir and which might offer me another picture. Sadly I never managed to get there, the ground was saturated, the lower reaches of the fields which had seen wheat and maize last year were now a slick of unploughed mud, in places smooth and shiny where the heavy rains had polished out the ridges in the land, not a pleasant walk at all. The weir will have to wait for another, altogether drier day.

This morning’s walk into town to meet a friend for coffee elicited the remark ” I don’t see me walking up Hambledon today in this wind”, a brisk Westerly had already removed my hat a hundred yards previously and necessitated some more than brisk reaction to prevent it being blown further up the road. To say it was ‘bracing’ out there this morning was bordering on understatement.

However, as they say, there’s no such thing as bad weather only inappropriate clothing and this afternoon did in fact see me on Hambledon’s Westerly facing slopes in a blisteringly keen breeze dressed like Nanook of The North. I might have looked like a sage green Michelin Man but at least I was warm and my only companions this afternoon, the sheep, didn’t appear at all alarmed by my sartorial elegance or the lack of it.

I say it was only the sheep that I had for company, early on in my muddy scramble up the hill I did see a lone dog walker braving the elements but it was only a fleeting glimpse and then the figure and dog was gone, headed for civilisation and warmth no doubt while I was still on my way upwards. Not that I ventured to the top today, I favoured at least a little shelter from the wind and plumped for the lone tree no more than halfway up. I wasn’t there long, long enough to take half a dozen photo’s and provide entertainment or distraction for the resident flock of woolly backs grazing the hill before taking a leaf from the dog walkers book and beating a retreat to escape the mean, cold wind.

What’s a Birthday without a cake, whatever it’s size large or small? Yesterday’s momentous occasion, momentous both for the numbers involved ( as in age ) and how I spent it meant that there was little time for cake! Now, for those of you who know me you know how much I love cake, it’s what coffee was invented for, it could be described as central to civilised society, one could reasonably ask what is the meaning of life without cake?

Today I’ve indulged, well, I am allowed, it was my Birthday after all, a lime flavoured sponge with buttercream was duly dispatched this morning, I should say at this point not entirely by myself, and this afternoon’s dull, dreary, wet weather gave me the perfect opportunity to indulge in not one but two passions. A little still life photography and cup cake, guaranteed to brighten up anyone’s afternoon.

So, I give to you today’s offering, peeled, revealed, sugared and placed on a pedestal. Small but perfectly formed, delight and delictation on offer in a single bite, depending on the size of your bite and in whose company you might be at the time I guess. Delicious in every way except for the calorie count I guess but, hey, I was only following a royal decree….didn’t someone once say ‘ let them eat cake’ though I think she was more worried about her head than her waistline when push came to shove!

………I faithfully promise that the very first motor car I see, poop poop! Off I go in it”. I can see how the venerable Toad could be so easily enraptured. It’s been a weekend seemingly devoted to ‘boys toys’ and the pursuit of all things speedy, and not so speedy, four wheeled in the majority but a visit to Haynes Motor Museum at Sparkford also revealed a smattering of the two wheeled variety as well.

As Museums go it’s a very fine specimen indeed, for a modest outlay ( or what resembles a modest outlay at today’s outlandish prices ) you can wander the exotic and outrageous, the cute and the quaint, drool over the unaffordable and reminisce nostalgically over the vehicles of yesteryear. It appears that Haynes has a veritable A to Z of automobile history from all parts of the world with which to enthrall and entertain.

It’s sometimes funny how circumstances conspire, I hadn’t consciously photographed cars or bikes for a while and yet within the space of the last two days this weekend I have photographed nothing else. That said I guess I’ll have put the desire, or opportunity, to bed again for a little while, watching the weather forecast this evening shows the possibility of more frost this week. The lure of wide open spaces will be too good to resist no doubt but, like Toad, the lure of the motor car lies very near the surface, scratch the very thin veneer, show me an interesting vehicle and….”poop, poop! Off I go in it”!

Today was a return of sorts. A return to normality after the week away, a return to attending the monthly car and bike event here in the town and a return to taking pictures of cars and bikes, something I’ve been more than a little prone to doing for as long as I’ve had a camera and more especially since the age of digital has made life so much easier not to mention cheaper.

I’ve long had a thing about cars, motorcycles, scooters in fact almost anything powered by the internal combustion engine, I’ve yet to be ‘electrified’ as it were but I’m sure it’s an experience not to be missed and given the opportunity I’ll be ‘ready and raring to go’ as it were. The time is coming where climate change, conservation and technology are driving a change as radical as any seen since the Industrial Revolution.

I do wonder how long the change will take given that the ‘horseless carriage’ has held sway since it’s inception, albeit as a steam driven vehicle, since 1803. The freedom provided by motorised transport in the hands of private owners has proved to be a powerful source, the ability of the common man, and woman, to be able to get from one place to another at will or on a whim has proved irresistible and not something that will be easily given up it seems, whatever takes the place of fossil fuel to power the transport of the future it seems that it’ll take a while for our love affair with the motor car in it’s current form to wane.

We’ve been away, hence the absence of my daily musings and accompanying photo’s, it’s not that either the spirit or the flesh was weak and unwilling more that I can only access and edit my WordPress site from my desktop, my tablet or my phone steadfastly refuse to allow me to get into my site despite me having posted almost daily for the last 12 months. Technology is indeed a wonderful thing so I’m led to believe.

A small sojourn in Prague has taken our time over the last four days, a city which never fails to please, it’s spires and alleyways conjuring up the magnificence of the Bohemian and the mystery of the Gothic. A city at one moment ultra modern and then at the next entirely medieval, from the twists and turns of narrow cobbled streets in Old Town to the chic, ultra modern, extremely ( almost prohibitively) expensive ‘ Parizska’, jaw dropping and eye watering all withing a couple of hundred yards of each other. It’s a city that’s easy to fall in love with.

These four days have been no different, the city has beguiled and intrigued as it always does. We sat and listened to Alphonse Mucha’s story and marveled at his artwork, so much more to him than the posters so popular in Athena stores in the 60’s and 70’s, a genius with the pencil and paintbrush. We stayed in splendour at ‘The Imperial Hotel’ an Art Deco icon, wandered streets and boulevards whose architecture spoke of past glories, ate in local hostelries, drank coffee or chocolate in street corner cafes and watched the world go by until our four day’s were up and it was time to return to the normality of North Dorset. I have no doubt that we will return…..soon.

Given that I normally find my landscape inspiration out in the countryside a chance visit to town this morning made me think of interpreting another form of landscape, something I’ve been meaning to try for a while but never really got around to. The cityscape is far more ‘hardnosed’, very much more ‘brutalist’ but none the less interesting, it was fun wandering the half deserted, and very damp, early Sunday morning streets of Yeovil for an hour in the rain.

The weather very definitely helped my cause, it kept the people off the street, allowing me to isolate aspects of the buildings and the muted, overcast sky and the shop lights combined to introduce some drama and colour into what is often a very drab landscape. The wet reflections only added to the scene and a chance shot of an old dance hall glitterball in a shop window only added to the irony, for all the glamour of the glitterball there was precious little glamour out in the street.

That said, things weren’t as dismal as I’d possibly hoped for, I was hoping for the ‘run down’ and the ‘ruined’ but there was very little of that, well, at least not much that would afford any meaningful photo’s, despite the empty shops the good folk of Yeovil had kept the townscape quite tidy. Yes, there were empty shops and vacant shop fronts, a sign of the times it seems, but there wasn’t an air of dilapidation about the place, more a case of a town centre in mothballs, waiting for the good times to return.

Things are very definitely on the move, the snowdrops have been in bloom for several weeks now and the first of the early season daffodils has made a showing in several locations, their yellow heads bobbing on the breeze in sheltered hedgerows and on verges in the locality. Even here in the garden the early signs of new growth are showing, there are buds on the bushes, what has appeared to be dead or dormant is now showing the early signs of new growth, heralding the new season.

The weather’s been so mild and damp, we’ve only had last weekend’s frosts of any note so far and yet we’re just coming to the last weekend of January. While Nature seems intent on springing forth I can’t help but wonder if it’s not been lulled into a false sense of security, surely we haven’t got off so lightly, I fear there’ll be worse to come yet before things get a great deal better and all those precious little buds and shoots may yet feel Winter’s icy blast.

As usual , I guess we’ll have to wait and see, at the end of the day we get what we get, there’s nothing we can do to alter it, thank goodness, the day that we can influence the weather and the seasons will surely be a day too far given that we’re not currently doing too well in looking after our precious planet and it’s natural inhabitants. It seems that there are far too many people, many with vested interests, uttering far too much rhetoric whilst doing little or nothing of any consequence to reverse current trends. We live a fragile existence and one we should take greater care of it seems.

Despite the gloom it was good to be out today. After yesterday’s inactivity because of the weather I was determined to try and make the most of things this morning and at least the flat monotone which passed for yesterday’s sky had gone, replaced by something a little more lively and with a helping hand from a plastic filter I managed to make it look a little more dramatic, whether or not that’s likely to be to everyone’s taste is a matter of some subjectivity.

Everywhere I went this morning the landscape was dominated by muck and puddles, understandable as we live in a rural landscape dominated by agricultural activity and on the whole pretty inconsequential in the great scheme of things, you can’t live in the country and then moan and groan about the mud, the muck and the pervading odours. They go together like a horse and carraige as some songwriter once observed.

At least I was able to get out and about, it wasn’t cold, it wasn’t windy and as long as you were careful where you went it wasn’t too muddy, what it definitely was, was good to be out. The little lanes were quiet today, little traffic, other than that of the equine variety, was in evidence and the sounds of hooves was far more entertaining than that of the internal combustion engine. Stood watching the horses and a small flock of snowy white egrets out at Kings Mill was a far more entertaining prospect than sitting in a traffic jam or hunting a car parking space somewhere else I have to say. All in all, muck and puddles notwithstanding, it wasn’t a bad morning to be out and about in the lanes today.