Tuesday, 19 February 2008

Light and shade

I awoke first thing, to notice that the same unearthly quality of light that defined yesterday's dying sun also illuminated its initial showing this morning: an all-encompassing sulphurous yellow glow which appeared not so much to bathe, but to positively drench all in its sights.

I returned for a while to sleep. When the alarm aggressively brought to an end some quite vivid and telling dreams, the first thing I noticed was the change in the light again: the warmth of its previous state now replaced by a frosty, foggy whiteness.

















A fine day, then, to follow through with my plans to head back up to Matlock for another day of walking. I was on my own this time. Company brings with it a completely different set of dynamics on days like this, whereas on my own my thoughts and moods tend to ebb and flow - in accordance with probably a whole number of factors - to sometimes seemingly bipolar extremes.
By way of illustration, here's a not entirely scientific equation:

Mood + thoughts = level of physical exertion +/- blood sugar levels +/- level of hydration (directly influenced by last night's alcohol intake at the pub quiz) + x (where x equals immediate surroundings and my response to them) + y (where y = any amount of memory triggers) x z (where z equals the amount of mental space for reflecting on recent events).

Simple.

So whereas at many points on my perambulations today I was eager, enthusiastic and full of energy, then at certain moments I either actively avoided particular places due to the memories and feelings they evoked, or I trod a very careful path through them to say the least.

On the one hand, the contrasts experienced on a day like this - warm, bright sunshine, yet with snow and frost underfoot - can be breathtaking, regardless of the relatively modest scenery of Matlock. On the other, it can be like returning to an old photograph: a reminder of absence, or of something diminished - a trigger for recollection, but always linked to the awareness that the moment, in being captured, is gone forever. Thankfully the former took precedence over the latter.

Taking a sidestep from all that, I found myself wondering if I might ever reach a point at which I feel I've taken enough photographs with the camera pointed directly against the sun: on the evidence so far, that looks pretty doubtful.

Oh, and I made friends with another cat.

19 comments:

lavenderblue said...

Your post made me suddenly sad.
SO many memories of Matlock.......and it can never be the same.

Jon said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Turtle said...

Oooooh. That's a sneaky spam, jonbot. Nearly had me there, I was so curious.

Nice pictures and reflections, Trousers. It's weird how eerie the light is at the moment, isn't it? It's the same over here in Leipzig. It's like the light is confused itself by its unexpected Spring appearance.

Whatever that means. I'll retire to my sunchair and my bacardi now...

zola a social thing said...

Where are the damned sheep?

Pixie said...

great pics.
nice to see your breaking down men's barriers about being friends with cats.
solitude on a walk can both be a blessing and a sadness, and both are valid.
pxx

Merkin said...

jon is virus laden

anticant said...

My grandfather's uncle disappeared from a Matlock hotel, and was never heard of again. Spooky place!

lavenderblue said...

That IS Spooky..........

trousers said...

Agreed lav, though one thing which strikes me is just how much has remained since my childhood; it's just that the perspective one has is very different now, sometimes just too poignant for words. At times the silence on my walks the other day were absolutely what I needed; a couple of times it was just too much.

Hi turtle, yes the sneaky buggers - word verification hovers once again...
By the way what you mention about the light pretty much sums up what I've tried to express over the space of more than one post. Nice one sir!

zola, the sheep had gone up to Cromford for a day out.

pixie, I genuinely wasn't aware such a barrier existed - not in my experience anyway since I've always liked cats. Presumably then your experience tells a very different story? I'm intrigued.

There's something reassuring about your second point, thank you for that.

And now, merkin, jon is gone :)

anticant, that's very odd indeed: is there any more to that story that you'd be willing to share with us? If so, I'd love to hear about it.

DJ Kirkby said...

WOW!!!!! Love the pics.

Caroline said...

Great photos.

Cx

ps - thanks :) (you know why, even if you're not saying why)

zola a social thing said...

Hope that cat had been snipped?
Very suspicious all this male stuff with cats when the sheep are away for the day in Cromford.

anticant said...

OK trousers, I'll blog about him soon in the Burrow. He was a colourful character apart from his vanishing act.

anticant said...

Done!

Fox said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
anticant said...

Looks like spam?

trousers said...

Thanks dj. I do think my camera was one of the better purchases that I've made in the last few months. Thank you too caroline, and hope you have further success with Disraeli Avenue x

zola, I didn't check!

anti, thanks for spam-notification: word verification hovers ever-closer again... Oh and I'll come over and have a look at your new writings (I did do yesterday but didn't get very far, I realised I needed a break from the pc).

Tojagal said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Wayfarer Scientista said...

lovely walk and photos...and i totally agree with you on your formula...it works here too.