Category Archives: Pictures

Floating alongside the River

Continued from here

Blowsy Blooms nodding us along..

photo (38)

Soft Shadows telling us to slow down..

photo (39)

As Evening fell, the lone raven’s tell

photo (40)

Gosling’s parents’ warning bell

photo (41)

Past the evening’s last petalled bed

photo (42)

We bid adieu to the river with light heart and feet of lead..

photo (43)

photo (44)

Fini

Advertisements

Floating alongside the River 3

Continued from https://aanteladda.wordpress.com/2013/05/31/floating-alongside-the-river-2/

Spring flowers keeping an eye on all.. photo (19)

Blushing, blooming, best unseen..

photo (20)

The path strewn in petaled welcome
photo (21)

Alongside Turner’s green..

photo (22)

Reflective silence in gloaming’s dell

photo (23)

Shining treetops beckoning on..

photo (24)

Calling the walker anon..

photo (25)

Brashly, the brush sang it’s song

photo (26)

As the serene river flows on..

photo (27)

The river steps beckoned with tales to tell ..

photo (28)

The path, it solidly went on..

photo (29)

Continued here..

Floating alongside the River 1

As we wandered around London’s towns..

We found ourselves on an oldish green

photo (2)

Wandering through, we found ourselves in a garden

photo (4)

The path that beckoned was not ours..

photo (5)

We wandered in search through the lonely wood

photo (6)

Past Enchantments along the way..
photo (7)

Marking our way past the gnarled holly
photo (8)

We knew the river was across this way..

photo (10)

Part II follows.. here

Reading Chairs

This was made from left over wood after building by great grandfather’s house.. I have spent entire summer holidays ensconced in its arms, reading away, rabbiting away memories

A comfortable reading chair. A good book. Some munchies on their way. A cup of tea. Or coffee.

Not much to ask for, is it?

This is the one we fight over.. rarely empty. Often the mooda on the side holds a steaming cup of tea – when it is not being used as a footrest.
For those days when the book alone will not soothe, she who rocks the world comes out to play.
And, oh so comfy! If there is heaven on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here.
The chair opens out, and one squishes oneself into its depths. Admittedly, the book cannot be far away – for once one is in, it is impossible to get out (Who wants to, anyway?)