Misty morning wanderings

Stillness. Boats moored in the Upper Waitemata Harbour, seen throught early morning mist from Greenhithe Bridge. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

Stillness. Boats moored in the Upper Waitemata Harbour, seen from Greenhithe Bridge. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

Although not good for travellers (creating havoc at the airport), the mists that have laid themselves upon Auckland this last week have created a wonderland for walkers, photographers and dreamers.

Black and white shot of Greenhithe Bridge disappearing into the mist. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

Greenhithe Bridge disappearing into the mist. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

B&W shot of Greenhithe Bridge disappearing into morning mist. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

If only I could see the exit! Greenhithe Bridge, misty morning. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

A contribution to Sally D’s Mobile Photography Challenge at Lens and Pens by Sally.

“The light always comes back…”

Early morning sun and mist on sports field, Collins Park, Greenhithe, NZ. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

Morning sun breaking through the mist. Collins Park, Greenhithe, NZ. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

My morning walks have become longer again, and are beginning to require a certain military precision in their organisation. Keys — tick. Woolly layers — tick. Toes strapped (experiment in postural correction) — tick. Fitness tracker, headphones, smartphone, new podcasts downloaded — yes, yes, yes and yes.

I’m a huge fan of BBC Radio 4 podcasts, and this morning the Desert Island Discs of Scottish writer and poet Liz Lochhead provided the soundtrack as I set off into the mist that mantled Greenhithe.

Early morning, Greenhithe Road. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

Early morning, Greenhithe Road. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

Sunrise behind the cabbage trees. Collins Park, Greenhithe, NZ. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

Dr Suess-like cabbage trees, Collins Park, Greenhithe, NZ. Image: Su Leslie, 2017. Edited with Snapseed.

The title of this post is from the poem In the Mid-Midwinter, by Liz Lochhead. It seems particularly appropriate today as nature has already bestowed on Greenhithe an almost white-out mist, bright winter sunshine and now a sky of “dreich greyness” as the rain approaches.

In the Mid-Midwinter
Poem

‘Tis the year’s midnight, and it is the day’s – from John Donne’s
‘A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy’s Day, being the Shortest Day’.

At midday on the year’s midnight
into my mind came
I saw the new moon late yestreen
wi the auld moon in her airms though, no,
there is no moon of course,
there’s nothing very much of anything to speak of
in the sky except a gey dreich greyness
rain-laden over Glasgow and today
there is the very least of even this for us to get
but
the light comes back
the light always comes back
and this begins tomorrow with however many minutes more of sun and serotonin.
Meanwhile
there will be the winter moon for us to love the longest,
fat in the frosty sky among the sharpest stars,
and lines of old songs we can’t remember
why we know
or when first we heard them
will aye come back
once in a blue moon to us
unbidden,
bless us with their long-travelled light.

Liz Lochhead

Written for Sally D’s Mobile Photography Challenge at Lens and Pens by Sally.

The Changing Seasons: August 2016

Early, foggy morning; Hobsonville Point, Auckland, NZ. Boots moored in distance. Image: Su Leslie, 2016

Early morning; Hobsonville Point, Auckland, NZ. Image: Su Leslie, 2016

I hope I can look back and say that August 2016 was the worst month of my recent life. Really. Because that will mean that things have got better.

Of course “worst” is relative, and compared to so many people, I’m incredibly fortunate.But internally, on a scale of one to smiling, I’m barely registering a lip twitch.

It’s been a month of sadness; watching the Big T’s mother slip away from us.

A month of worry. About the health of our remaining parents, work issues plaguing family members, our boy-child’s living arrangements.

Of frustration. Too many things are out of our control. Without input from others for whom our issues aren’t that important, we’re left in a holding pattern, circling, running out of fuel.

Add a cancelled holiday, on-going back pain and a wicked cold, and I really am a grumpy little unit.

So my image for the Cardinal’s Changing Seasons challenge pretty much sums up how I’m feeling. I know the means to travel onward is out there; I can see it through the mist. I’m just not quite sure how I’m going to get to it. Pity I’m not a better swimmer.

The Changing Seasons is a monthly challenge hosted by Cardinal Guzman. Please visit to see the Cardinal’s month, and find links to other participants.

There are two versions of the challenge:

Version 1 (The Changing Seasons V1):

Tag your posts with #MonthlyPhotoChallenge and #TheChangingSeasons
Each month, post 5-20 photos in a gallery.
Don’t use photos from your archive. Only new shots.

Version 2 (The Changing Seasons V2):

Tag your posts with #MonthlyPhotoChallenge and #TheChangingSeasons
Each month, post one photo (recipe, painting, drawing, whatever) that represents your interpretation of the month.
Don’t use archive stuff. Only new material!