Today’s been spent almost entirely under canvas. From a little after daybreak until early evening we’ve been resident at a local show, Sturminster Newton’s Cheese festival, in a marquee under a blazing sun….to say that it’s been warm would be an understatement.

This year the Cheese festival celebrates it’s twentieth birthday apparently. Borne in the aftermath of the closure of the town’s famous livestock market, it was once one of the largest calf markets in the country, and the demise of the milking herds which led to the closure of the local cheese factory, local dignitaries devised an event that celebrated all that had been previously good in the area.

Year on year the event has grown and today draws crowds from near and far, from the immediate hinterland and beyond to the south coast and into neighbouring Wiltshire and Somerset. There is something for everyone, it’s a good old fashioned family event which is bang up to date without being over excessive.

As with most of these events they would be nothing without the army of volunteers who give their time freely for the benefit of the local community and help to make the day such a great success. They are often the unseen and unsung heroes of the day, litter picking, car parking, first aiding and tea making, they do their utmost to make it a weekend to remember for all who attend.

For me, on a purely personal basis, the best part of the event is the wonderful time in the morning before the public arrive, when the show site is almost empty, the tents are still and silent , the dew’s wet in the grass, the air is cool and clean. The sun shining on the small city of tents in Thomas Hardy’s ‘ Vale of Little Dairies’ is an almost magical sight, this morning was no exception, bring on the next one I say!

Yesterday afternoon I set off across the fields, Fiddleford bound, it’s always a pleasant walk through the meadows down to the river Stour and along to the old mill and the 14th Century manor house.

There’s often the reward of a cuppa, and sometimes cake, at the Dorset Lavender Farm Project and a chance to take in the peace and quiet of the Dorset countryside, to sit in the lavender fields under the expansive Dorset skies, to listen to the bees, still active in the warm sunshine and to watch the kestrel or the buzzard on the wing across the water meadows below Girdlers Coppice.

To reach this calm oasis you have to cross the walkway over the weirs at the mill, the narrow path often almost swallowed up by the vegetation and the workings, the wheels, the cogs, the handrails and the brickwork all show signs of being abused over time by the elements.

Bleached by the sun, drenched by the rain and, in due course, rusted, the iron work turns a deep, dark, rich colour belying the damage being done. The pathway is buckled and broken by tree roots and the brickwork shows signs of deep cracks in places, a testament to the pressures of the water the the weir is designed to hold back.

Yesterday, almost at the end of the summer, the millpond was covered by a green film of algae, there’s no sign of the dragon flies that earlier in the year were a constant source of entertainment as they zipped up and down the waterways, no sign of the little white egret that frequents the pool either nor the kingfishers that inhabit this stretch of the river.

It was all unusually quiet, even the slow old river was little more than a trickle as it tumbled through the eel runs, far removed from the roaring, frothing maelstrom that it becomes when in flood and you can hear it a hundred yards away. The season’s changing though, the elements will soon begin to batter the man made structure again, the frosts will damage it further, the rain will swell the river and the weight of water will once again bear heavy against the aging ironworks, here’s hoping that that it holds, I can’t imagine the cost of repairing it should things fail.

After the gloom and despondency of yesterday today’s change in the weather is a welcome change, everything looks a little better in the sunshine as testified by this little self seeding Sunflower which has sprung up underneath the bird feeder here in the garden.

Yesterday’s bland greyness has been relieved and more normal autumnal service has been resumed, that’s not to say that it’s currently wall to wall sunshine but, if the forecasters are to be believed, the weekend looks set fair which will be a blessing as it see’s the last of the local summer events in the town. The Sturminster Newton Cheese Festival, sounds enticing doesn’t it, takes place here over the weekend and despite the modest surroundings here it certainly draws a crowd.

It’ll be a weekend of all that is good gastronomically, obviously there’ll be cheese ( the clue is in the title of the event ) but there’ll be every other associated delight to go with it. There’ll be all manner of delicious delights and beautiful beverages, from cheese and crackers to tarts and truffles no doubt, more wholesome food you’ll not find anywhere, well, unless you’ve attended any one of a dozen of the local shows hereabouts this season.

It’ll be a last chance to let off steam in the local area now that the summer’s over and becoming a dim and distant memory. Eat, drink and be merry will be the order of the weekend, imagine a Harvest Festival on steroids with rock bands, straw bales and cider and there you have it, unbridled magic and well worth a visit, roll up, roll up and take your fill!

Today’s been a relatively busy day so far and the weather’s nothing special, it can’t make it’s mind up whether it wants to rain or not and the sky’s not overly inspiring, it doesn’t look as though I’ll be off wandering with the camera any time soon, if at all, today.

Having said that, yesterday wasn’t a lot different as I recall, it started off with some promise and then the sky fell in and the sunshine disappeared though it did leave us with those dramatic layered clouds that I wrote about ….today just doesn’t have the same feel to it.

Sometimes it seems like it’s that age old case of ‘one step forward, two steps back’, there are days when the creative juices flow and things fall into place, and then there are others. Days when it’s easier not to be bothered, days when finding the urge seem akin to winning the Lottery ( and I don’t do the Lottery ), the odds are stacked against it happening. there are irons in the fire and the fire needs poking, in fact at the moment it needs lighting in the first instance.

I thought today’s photo and title illustrated the juxtaposition quite well.

“juxtaposition”

1. the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.”the juxtaposition of these two images”

the climb seemed like one step forward and two steps back and yet the gateway in the opening offered light at the end of the tunnel despite the gloom of the wood, tomorrow will be a different day!

After yesterday’s incessant rain we woke this morning to ….fog! Damp, cloying, clinging fog as far as the eye could see ( which wasn’t unduly far given the conditions ), Autumn may be just around the corner but I’d like some of those cold, crisp, colourful days before the wetter conditions set in.

Fortunately the conditions improved as the morning progressed, there was even a brief appearance of the sunshine which drove away any lingering vestiges of the fog but by lunchtime the cloud had arrived, choking the golden glow and replacing it by a layered sky as far as the eye could see.

Now, I’m not averse to a heavily laden sky, it’s often so dramatic and produces some incredible images. It helps diffuse the harsh light and injects a little, or a lot, of variety in the biggest part of the landscape which would otherwise be bland and boring. It’s probably my one photographic vice, almost to the point of me becoming a ‘one trick pony’, I am a sucker for a sky and we get a lot here in Dorset.

This afternoon’s walk through the woods at Duncliffe laid testament to that, clearing the canopy revealed an autumnal vista, greens and browns under the myriad greys of a voluminous sky, bring on the golds and reds of turning leaves in pale, warm sunshine to complete the picture and I will be a happy man as I walk home along a chalk path.

In all fairness, it was a very early start for him ( or her ), grooming wasn’t necessarily the first thing on one’s mind, food and drink being of far more importance. You have to fuel the engine at the start of the day, tarting and titivating can come later….

We are a nation of animal lovers it’s often said. I don’t think that’s particularly peculiar to the British, I think that animals are important to human beings wherever they may be in the world. There are many reasons why, a great many led by commercial interests, but for others the presence of animals in their lives offers a degree of comfort and companionship ( though I have to say that I cannot understand why some folks want to make pets of overly exotic or endangered species, I also have a distinct aversion to anything that is likely to cause me harm, no matter what it’s size! ) in today’s madcap world.

Animals too appreciate the link they forge with humans it seems. It’s particularly noticeable in the case of dogs and horses, noticeably less so in the case of cats it seems who are imperious, haughty creatures and far from allowing them into your world it seems that they deign to allow you into theirs, or not, as the case may be. Cats are a law unto themselves whereas a dog will make the utmost fool of itself to ingratiate themselves to it’s owner and anyone else that will give it the time of day.

That we are wont to make pets of almost any creature may hark back to prehistoric times, it would seem to be a deep rooted part of the human psyche, firstly as hunters and later as herders, whatever, our love of animals enriches the vast majority of us. Animals usually, and often, bring us unmitigated, unrequited love and affection.There are times when the company of animals is far preferable to that of some human beings, they are , or appear to be, far less complex, far less devious, and in the case of some human beings far more predictable and trustworthy no matter what their appearance, bad hair day or bed hair day not withstanding.

Today we’ve attended the Dorset County Show, the oldest annual fair in the county and as of this year over 175 years old in one form or another. As with all country shows it aims to show all that is good within the farming and producing community and on today’s evidence there is much to be proud of despite the hardships that we regularly hear about in the media.

It’s a chance for all and sundry to get dressed up, or down, and mingle. To eat, drink and be merry, to celebrate the land, it’s animals, machinery and the people who manage it on our behalf, those that get their hands dirty producing the food that we all often take for granted.

The weather gods smiled on us, the sun shone and the rain stayed away. By mid morning the crowds were beginning to swell, people were arriving in droves, young and old alike, some to reacquaint and reminisce, others to discover things anew, at a country show or fair there is always something for everyone.

If you want to get ahead…get a hat! It seems us British have a love affair with ‘the hat’. Today has seen the annual Bridport Hat Festival and , for the first time since we’ve lived in these parts, we’ve managed to attend just to see what all the fuss is about. Today marks the tenth anniversary of the inaugural event whose mission is to remind the world of the sheer joy and the stylish elegance of the humble hat whilst raising money for head related charities.

A great time was had by all, men, women and children alike. The sun shone, the music played and the crowds attended, duly attired, heads adorned with all manner of headgear from the fantastic to the absolutely fabulous. It certainly is a celebration of the British love affair with the hat and the ever so slightly eccentric nature of those that choose to wear one.

No-one , it seems, is immune to the lure of ‘ the hat’. Refreshingly it doesn’t just seem to be the sole province of the female of the species, increasingly it seems that men are discovering just how empowering smart, sophisticated headgear can be as was amply evidenced today. I have to admit to being the owner of no less than three items ( to go with my three heads some unkind wags would say ) a blue bowler, a purple ‘topper’ and a black ‘stovepipe’, it does seem that the ‘ steampunk’ look is still the order of the day and combined with some of the finery on show it made for a very enjoyable spectacle indeed. I’m looking forward to next year’s event already.

I’ve been sitting on my hands since last Saturday, buzzing with excitement, hoping that the owner of this fabulous creature would allow me to post his photograph. Not that a photograph does him justice, there was so much more to him than a two-dimensional photograph and while this one was particularly special I always find that there is something magical about a horse.

I’m no judge of horses. I learnt to ride as a teenager ( Green Bank Riding School, Marden, take a bow ), on a whim, and like a lot of things in my life the experience came and then went as I moved on to other things. In my defence I would say that I realised that horses needed so much more than I could afford to give them, both in terms of commitment and cash. To say that those experiences left their mark would be an understatement though.

I love to be around horses, there is , as I said earlier, something magical about them. They are powerful, graceful, elegant, feisty at times but seldom mean spirited, nasty or vicious, if they are then those are traits they’ve invariably been taught somewhere along the way, it rarely occurs naturally.

I was lucky to be invited to take some photographs of this magnificent creature and his equally splendid stablemates last weekend. For an hour they patiently, quietly and gently allowed themselves to be pushed, posed and preened for the camera without a hint of protest. Despite their size and strength they appeared happy to engage, heads up, ears forward, totally comfortable and at ease with proceedings, it was an hour to treasure. I look forward to the next occasion.

Ham, Egg and Chips. Ham, Egg and Chips. Ham, Egg and Chips…..I love Ham, Egg and Chips ( I think you may have the picture ), but if that all that my diet consisted of at each and every meal I’m sure I’d very quickly get well and truly tired of it.

It’s a bit like that when you photograph your local area, at first it seems that the world is your oyster ( gastronomic puns may be the order of the day ), a fresh, new smorgasbord of delights awaits, crying out to be discovered, sampled and savoured.

Over time the ‘usual haunts’, the mill, the river, the trailway, all become more and more familiar, the danger being that you fail to see what is actually there and things become a blur, we ‘see’ but we don’t ‘see’ by virtue of familiarity. It’s something akin to making that journey where we’ve driven for miles perfectly safely but can’t recall what we’ve seen along the way or how we’ve come to be where we find ourselves, autopilot has taken over.

It’s at times like those that we need a little injection of something to add to what we normally expect to see, an added ingredient to inject a little sparkle to what may have become a little bland.

Last night proved to be a perfect point in case. I’d taken myself out at the end of the day more in hope than anger. The weather seemed to be closing in, what there was of a sunset didn’t have the appearance of setting the horizon alight, let alone the world, but I thought I’d make the effort and see if there was anything that could lift the moment.

I ‘did’ the river and the mill, stock fare but not overly inspiring. I ‘did’ the cattle crossing and the promentory where the river and the mill run off diverge, again there was little to whet the appetite, but, the darkening sky was beginning to show just the tiniest hints of a rip and the low angle of the setting sun began to tint the clouds. A brisk walk through the ‘rec’ and down to Colber and the old railway bridge gave me exactly what had been missing earlier on in my wanderings, the missing ingredient, a wonderfully colourful, warm glow with which to end the day.