Sea Sights, Sea Salt...

Just looking over these views from this Christmas in Cornwall, wishing I could go out for an early morning walk. Even what might initially appears plain, or colourless soon seems to offer its hidden treasures in the light along the coast.

These crab and lobster pots were on Smeaton's Pier in St Ives, but there are always similar ones around Newlyn harbour. The traditional traps were objects of beauty in their own right, with their curved willow canes, but these modern versions are quite eye-catching with their geometric forms, bound with brightly-coloured rope, set off by the vibrant buoys are generally mark their position in the water.

The patchwork pattern of the dry stone walls is equally intricate, with the colours of granite offset by lichen.

 The stones look like sliced geode of agate with intricate lacy rings and speckles.

I love the jumble of the fishing boats in the harbour - Newlyn in this case - huddled up or aligned in imposing rows...

Finally, some music that seems quite appropriate. To the Sea by Brenda Wootton and John the Fish.

Anemone Petals...

End of a month of being very busy doing nothing particularly inspiring.

However, the sight of these beautiful buds and pollen-dusted petals made me feel more appreciative of life in general.

The light on the petals, alongside the striking, dark tasselled stamens is magical every time.

It is somehow hard to believe that these papery petals will develop and unfold from such mysterious, downy forms.

Twigs and Branches...

Within the space of a few days, spring seems to have come along, although this might just be a fleeting impression. There are not really any buds out yet here, these were from the magnolia trees in Cornwall over Christmas.

There might not be a great deal of greenery for the moment, but there is colour to be found, even on the starkest of twigs. In this case, lichen along the vines...

Hard to believe that only a few weeks ago, the branches on the trees were bowing under the weight of snow...

Snow on the Spires...

Last day of the month and some pretty effects on the spires and pinnacles with this scattering of snow.

The gargoyles were spitting down, and the air was bracing. Perfect winter weather all round.

Crochet Work in Progress...

Snowing outside, and classes have been cancelled even if there doesn't seem to be enough fluffy flakes to make a snowball, let alone merit such drastic measures. Anyway, this might give me some time to work on my crochet project that has been 'Work in Progress' since August.... or maybe not as I've just been hemmed in by furry companions! One competing with the laptop, and the other providing back-up reinforcement! No way I'm going anywhere soon, with or without the snow!

Well, I hope to finish this particular piece sometime this year. I still have to make at least a hundred more hexagons, deal with all those loose ends (a very daunting thought) and sew it all together - preferably before the summer months when it becomes very hot work.

Artistic Birdwatching for the New Year...

I certainly don't see or hear too many birds from my fifth-floor flat, although clusters of goldfinches magically appear in the springtime, gracing the scrubby, scruffy trees in the street down below with their elegant, colourful presence. However, I have come across a few exotic species over the last few months.

The most stunning were perhaps the ones to be found in the Beaney House of Art and Knowledge in Canterbury. Some are small features from 17th century Dutch stained-glass window panels set in the museum staircase, but others were in exhibition display cabinets (hence the annoying light reflections on the photographs!). Unfortunately I didn't take notes on the exact origins or history of these pieces during my visit, so I will have to wait till next time...

As with most centuries-old art, the aspect and appearance of the humans that were dutifully represented on canvas, or indeed, stained glass often seem quaintly 'dated' to our 21st century eyes and aesthetics, but the animals portrayed always appear uncannily timeless or contemporary even.

Strangely quirky expressions and quizzical tilts of the head are displayed by beasts, feathered or furred, that seem to capture some essential bestial essence that wipes away the vast expanse of years that separates us from the time of their creation.

Funny beady eyes peer out at us knowingly, or otherwise the beast in question seems to be too engrossed in its own activity to pay any attention to us mere spectators, or indeed any of the human actors in the artwork in question.

The tortoiseshell butterfly below is caught in its perfect state, like an insect in resin, as if it had been captured only yesterday...

I came across this beautiful bird-making kit over Christmas, and couldn't resist it. I do wish there were some more European common-or-garden species in the set since ironically I rarely catch sight of the humble robin, wren or bullfinch these days. Maybe I could make my own version, once I have finally assembled these fine North American specimens!

End of the Year, Start of the New...

Old graveyards are fascinating with the tombstones and statues, generally swathed in ivy and plants of the undergrowth. I had been wanting to return to this particular church for some time as I remember drifting around here as teenagesr - totally drawn into the atmosphere, and mystery of lives and loves past. Well, times may change, the years past, we grow up and away, although not that much, it would seem...

This particular churchyard draws in many visitors, not only for the beauty and tranquility of the grounds, but for a unique feature that I did not even recall from all those years ago. Social media play a key role in the unearthing of personnages and places from the most remote spaces and this is a case in point. I had always thought this one specific grave was set in St Uny's church in Lelant, but in fact, it was on my old parish doorstep all along - here in Gulval, just outside Penzance.

It must have a certain succès de scandale today, though this is surely a notoreity based on folklore and a Poldark-nurtured curiosity meeting reality. Stone slabs wend a protective path towards the plot, preserving it from the trampling feet of tourists, ready to pay their respects.

Yet with or without the presence of the earthly remains of the supposed pirate, John ‘Eyebrows’ Thomas, the church grounds of Gulval seem timeless, open to the elements and nature.

Primroses are already nestling in crevices, whilst the bold, bright green of ferns is set off by the lichen that shrouds branches and stonework alike. Meanwhile, the church door itself is generally padlocked shut, presumably due to the unwanted attentions of visitors who respect nothing but the draw of money and material means.

Which perhaps brings us back to the notorious 'pirate and smuggler', John Thomas, baptised in Gulval church in 1692 and returned to the soil of his birth in December 1753. The name John Thomas sounds very unassuming - in fact, as teenagers we were more familiar with its usage to refer to male genitalia... However, the nickname 'Eyebrows' lends a certain distinction, further higlighted by the addition of notable facial adornment on the skull-and-crossbones carved on the tombstone itself!

For all the fame now associated with his intriguing grave, the figure of John Thomas seems to hide more questions than offering concrete answers, but it would appear that he died a wealthy man. At a time when a man's worldly fortune would amount to  two or possibly three digit figures, JT left a sizeable estate of several proporties and a bequest of over £2000. The provenance of that wealth was linked to smuggling, although the exact definition of this term is subject to discussion, since certain protectionist sea-farers were permitted by Royal certificate to attack and plunder any foreign vessel in local waters - in and around Mount's Bay.

Furthermore, the inscription on the tomb seems to be an elogy of the deceased, rather than a warning to the living.

                                                 Study to imitate, you won’t excell,

                                                            If you would live beloved and die so well.

John Thomas is but one individual, here in Gulval, who left this world for 'a better' centuries ago. Around his resting place, lie many others, whose solid Cornish names leave little doubt to their origins, and whose mortal years are often long, contrary to the idea that lives were typically short and brutish in bygone times. There are others, of course, whose inscriptions still convey the overwhelming sadness of loss and suffering - pain beyond the grave. But the message to take away from this, I suppose, is the beauty we can take from life and nature. That also seemed to be appropriate end to this year, looking forward to the new...