Tag: postaday

The Persistence of Memory?

Time. What does it mean to you? The passing of one minute to the next. One day. A year. A century. A millennium? Is is even possible to think about that? Or do you think of time as being in the workplace. At school. Monday to Friday. 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Weekends. Holidays. Time off – the weekend. When I was teaching my life seemed to be split into term-times. Breaks when I could have a life. If I wasn’t ill, or had a hundred reports to write or coursework to mark. No, let’s not dwell on that time.

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Is time a constraint? Or freedom? Do you take the time to stand and stare? To absorb the beauty that is around you? Or do you rush through life hating to waste time.

Time to sleep. Time to dream. Time to contemplate. Time to have fun. Times of drought. Doing ‘time’. A season. An era. The beat of music. And yes, time does go faster as you grow older.

Can time be timeless? Are you having a good time, the time of your life?

California dreaming

Everything is free

Walking along the shoreline in San Diego I was virtually swamped by an explosion of colour – first these vibrant vending machines offering me a multitude of free advertising leaflets and then a stall full of colourful ceramic fishes.

Colourful fishies

I was definitely getting into the carnival spirit

and by the time I reached the kites down at Seaport Village

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my energy levels were rising

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and I was feeling very happy. After all it was February and here I was walking in sunny California 🙂

Don’t you feel more cheerful now?

Weightless

So many images came to mind when I looked at this week’s WPC. But could I find a delicate feather, a frothy dandelion clock, a spider’s silken web, ethereal mist, a tissue-like poppy, gossamery seeds blowing in the wind, a downy duckling, featherweight sycamore helicopters swirling in the breeze or a light as a feather sponge-cake? No, or rather, none that haven’t been published before. Even the cake.

AIR colour popping

So I decided on this hot-air balloon which I used to see silently floating overhead on the still, hot, late summer evenings in Surrey. I would hear the roar of the burners through our open windows, as the balloon filled with hot air, and then rush outside to see it as it drifted upwards over the neighbouring houses.

This was captured in nearby Petworth Park, West Sussex when the balloon was practically at eye-level.