Posts Tagged ‘ beach ’

Just relax, take it easy, you’re still young…

Son one

Son two – “that was AWESOME”

My boys. Still so young, but growing up fast. Too fast. One of the reasons I take so many photos of them, to their complete and utter dismay, is that they are so beautiful, and pure, and innocent. One day they probably won’t be (innocent that is). But until then I do my best every day to celebrate their childish ways.

Just before these pix were taken, on the beach at Woolacombe, eldest was in the doghouse. He’d challenged his dad’s authority – again – and been dealt an appropriate punishment (no swingboat ride, no icecream). The day’s not too far off when punishments of this sort just will not cut it. When the arguments are long, and loud, and involve tears and breaking things. We’ve already had some taster sessions. He is stubborn, and refuses to take the easy option. Just like his dad. There will be trouble ahead.

But until then we will revel in his cuteness. In those wobbly teeth, and band of freckles which burst out, like snowdrops, at the first sign of spring and sunshine.

His little brother has it easy. He can’t do much wrong right now. We try not to let him get away with anything, but he makes it hard with his ready laugh and cheeky wit.

These photos were taken after a particularly exhilarating bodyboarding session. Littlest boy had taken a full head dunking dive off the board. As he surfaced, I ran to him to ask if he was all right. “That,” he declared, “was AWESOME! Can I go again?” and off he shot, back into the waves.

Big brother was equally happy. Staying close to shore is not his thing anymore; he likes to paddle out to the furthest surfers, in deep water, waiting to catch the big one. Time after time he misses the wave – then he catches one just right and swoops into shore. Less effusive than his brother, this grin captures the ride’s awesomeness all the same.

What a great time of their lives. But I wouldn’t hold back time, even if I could. I can’t wait to see what kind of men they turn into.

Advertisements

Blue Skies

Night sky, sea, sand

I’ve waxed lyrical about Woolacombe in north Devon before. It’s become a family tradition to come here over Easter to celebrate my birthday and it’s one of my highlights of the year.

This photo was taken within a few hours of our arrival for this year’s annual sojourn. I love  its simplicity and calmness, the lines and the shadows.

This week away is one of those rare times when I get to carry my camera around with me much of the time. There is so much amazing scenery, so many places worthy of a photograph, that I could spend the entire week snapping.

I’ll try not to bore you though – just a photo a day if that’s all right with you.

Blue sky thinking

Blue sky thinking, originally uploaded by Jane2020.

It’s been rainy – and sunny – then raining again today. A typical English winter’s day. It was therefore a promising day for catching up on The Killing (I’m three episodes behind), sorting out the office, playing games with the kids, and booking our annual Easter hols to our regular haunt; Woolacombe in north Devon.
Maybe when you were a child you and your family regularly visited the same seaside location, possibly in north Wales – Barmouth, anyone?
Well, this will be the place that my kids think of when asked about their own family holiday memories.
This year we nearly decided to give it a miss. We are trying to keep our finances in check, in readiness for my other half’s likely redundancy sometime in the next 12 months, and seem to have had a flurry of outgoings that were not predicted or planned, mostly house and motor related.
But as usual our hearts have ruled our heads, so we’ve gone ahead and booked the same little beachside apartment that we’ve visited for the last three years.
This level of routine and repetition is not like us at all. We make a point of never returning to the same holiday location when we go abroad, on the basis that there is so much of the world to explore, so why go back? But somehow Woolacombe has acquired a special place in our hearts.
We have never had a bad holiday experience here; the kids love it; the weather is invariably kind; it’s only 3 hours away; the pubs and cafes are ace; and most of all the beach is stunning, sandy and very long. The surrounding areas are equally beautiful.
We’ve also celebrated some landmark events here, including birthdays and my hen weekend, and know every street and nook and cranny (we think).
This photo was taken from the top of Potter’s Hill, which overlooks the town and beach. When I visit in April I will be just a few weeks away from taking part in The Moonwalk, a night walk marathon in London in aid of breast cancer, so I’ll undoubtedly be marching up and down here frequently in the final throes of training.
I will keep my fingers crossed for weather as glorious as it was on this day a year ago.

Why I Take Photographs – A Discovery!

Why exactly do I bother to post my photos online or show them directly to friends? I say it’s because I want to improve, I want to see how others judge my “artistic work”, and particularly because I want more experienced and talented folk to point me in the right direction.

I have realised that this is actually complete and utter rubbish. All I want – and I mean ALL I want – is for people to tell me a picture or set of pictures is great, fab, whizzo and wonderful. And, ergo, by association, so am I.

This sad reality dawned on me rather pathetically after I posted some pictures from my recent sojourn from Kidderminster to sunny Woolacombe. After spending quite a lot of time downloading and sorting through untold gigabytes of photos, I selected about 40-odd landscapes to put on my facebook page and on my flickr site to guage reaction. I was met by deafening silence.

In the hours after posting them I regularly checked the pages for updates and comments, perhaps even a personal message to say something like: “These are great, I didn’t want to sound too gushing on your page but they are the best photos I’ve ever seen in my life, have a prize.” Instead I found diddly squat. Nada. Nowt.

Eventually, like, HOURS later, a few people kindly commented on two or three pictures, and one even posted the link to my pictures on her own page (thanks Tanya!).

But (and this reflects very badly on me, people, not you) the damage was done. I decided the pictures that I’d thought would elicit gasps of appreciation were probably all just useless and dull after all.

For this confession I apologise. It is not nice to feel you are responsible for someone else’s happiness, particularly when you hadn’t even realised it! And, as I say, it reflects very poorly indeed on my own self esteem regarding my photographic talents that someone failing to click on a “thumbs up” button on Facebook could bring me down.

I would add that this feeling of Abject Misery passed very quickly and was indeed swiftly cured by my husband telling me in no uncertain terms to “get a life, facebook saddo” and pouring me a double vodka.

I have now revisited said pictures and realised they are, after all, just a nice set of holiday snaps at a beach. This is not me being self-deferential or putting myself down after the fact (indeed, I still think several of the shots are lovely and am even framing some to adorn my walls) but I now appreciate they are fantastic to me because I WAS THERE.

Just looking at them on my wall or on the computer transports me back to that beautiful beach, at twilight, any one of three nights we spent down there watching the sun set.

There was hardly a soul around except for the surfer boys in the ocean, trying desperately to catch the last tiny waves;  the odd dog walker; and my little family.

The boys were happy making a platform in the dunes from which to do somersaults and jump into the sky; my gorgeous hubby was happily cooking up a storm on the barbecue while sipping a beer; and I was contentendly snapping away with my camera, glass of red in hand. The chilly breeze forced us occasionally to huddle together behind the windbreak in a happy heap, from where we watched the sun tumble out of the sky into the sea. I had never realised before quite how dramatically the sun plummets at nightfall. It quite literally disappeared before our eyes – one minute a ball of fire, the next a purple haze trailing over the horizon.

So, that’s why I like photography, and why I want to continue to take photos. If I’m going to have cherished memories of a place or moment in time, the photograph that accompanies it may as well be as good as it can be! And the actual art of taking a photo is extremely satisfying – I like going off into my own little world to focus my mind on something specific.

And this realisation, dear friends, is a blessed relief. I feel like I have been released from a torment that was gathering pace in my soul.

For weeks I have been forcing myself out to take pictures of, well, anything really, in the desperate quest for a photo that would prove to me that I could make the grade, that I could be a contender, that I had a photographer’s eye, an artist’s instinct, a sensitive touch.

And now? Now I feel free, free, free! Now I feel that I can accidentally leave my camera at home when I go for a walk in the woods without suffering moments of desperate anguish that this might be the day I see “the shot”. I can spend under £100 on a new tripod instead of the £400 one I’d seriously considered as a “must have” if I was going to take this photography lark seriously. I don’t have to buy a macro lens so I can take pictures of little biddy insects and flowerheads that I can’t even identify. Ah, bliss.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to take pictures and am still going to bore my facebook friends with the odd album of snaps. I’m still going to meet up with my new photography friends for the odd shoot. I’m still going to go along to my local camera club when I get the chance to pick up tips. And I’m still going to try to learn more, get better and have fun with my hobby.

But I won’t feel quite so desperate if it all goes wrong and, especially, if what I like doesn’t meet with the approval of anyone else.

It feels good, this freedom.

(To see the rest of my landscapes from Woolacombe visit my flickr page at http://www.flickr.com/photos/fab2010/  You don’t have to leave a comment!!!)

Advertisements