Our Not So Feathered Friend

Our Daisy Belle  chicken has been in moult; the lass is clogging on a bit in years, here she is in her youth in 2007

She can’t mange such a resplendent plumage these days. But she is working on this seasons feathers right now.

Chickens stop laying when they moult and general act ‘out of sorts’ not quite hanging out with the rest of the flock, first in the hen house at night, last out in a morning, having a bad feather day I suppose. They moult once a year, they don’t loose all the feathers at once (I’m not even sure how often some feathers are replaced, not every year I think).

Here she is with her new feathers emerging.  Bless.

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The quill grows first, and then the feather emerges from the tip of the quill,

it looks like she’s covered in little paint brushes.

Reader Charles is concerned for Spuds  the dogs welfare, as he has been absent of late. I can report he is fine, muddy and wet, but that’s Springers for you… He’ll be along soon.

Barn and Spire

A quintessentially British landscape.

 

If church buildings are your thing, pop over and have a look at some more of Derbyshire’s finest  religious buildings (and of course, there is this blogs ‘novelty contribution’ to Derbyshire’s church heritage ).

Or if fields are more your fare, pop over and look at Noel’s training blog, and the further adventures of moles in the meadows (we are fond of moles on this blog).

(I think the church spire is in the village of Butterton)

Boxy Barn

A neat, tidy, chunky, little Oxo cube of a barn. Very well maintained with rather ‘posh for a barn’ detailing over the door I thought.

Note smart new fence, probably a lot cheaper than repairing the drystone wall behind it. Snapped  on our journey on Sunday, nr Onecote (I think!)

All Mixed Up

I’m still here, there, and everywhere; wearing, as a colleague is fond of telling me ‘more hats than  they’ve got at John Lewis’.

This afternoon I drove to the village of Waterhouses  in Staffordshire, to collect Joe, he’d spent the weekend helping a Cub  Scout pack have a high old time at Orchard Farm. Mr Uphilldowndale took Joe there on Friday evening, through thick fog, not a pleasant journey. This was whilst I was at a rather  feisty public meeting, wearing one of my many hats, that wasn’t particularly pleasant either.

Waterhouses is set in the midst of beautiful countryside, but it was the nearby Cauldon Cement works that I wanted to photograph.

But there was no time to stay and play,  as Joe needed to get home and get his homework done before his ‘weekend high’ slumped into Sunday night angst.

I’m looking forward to reclaiming some ‘me time’ to loiter around with the camera, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion its not going to be before New Year. So for the time being, ‘happy snaps’ it will have to be.

Joe was particular taken with the silos at the cement works,

he said when they were out in a nearby field, they could hear the echo’s of their shouts (of which I’m sure there were many) echoing around the inside of the silos.

We’ve discussed cement works before…

Ghosts of the Past

For Remembrance Day and forever.

By Dutch historian Jo Teeuwisse  and entitled titled Ghosts of War–France. The images eerily show old World War II photographs of soldiers blended seamlessly into photos of the same locations in modern day France.

 

Image source PetaPixel

Home and Away

It has been cold here today, bright, crisp, beautiful.

Mr Uphilldowndale has been up to the Lake District, he wanted to visit the  cairn that has been started in Darren’s Memory.

Nijinski

Especially for mj, Barry Flanagan’s wonderful hares; striding out across the canal pond

Leaping through the trees

The poised, Large Nijinski on Anvil Point

And possibly my favourites, the petite Empire State with Bowler- Mirrored,  a piece that is obviously appreciated by the local spiders

They look so deceptively simple in close up, as if given a a pack of plasticine anyone could knock one up (oh no, I’ve just looked at last years post and I thought Damien Hursts work looked like pasticine, I think my art appreciations need s mature beyond primary school)

In previous years the Beyond Limits exhibition at Chatsworth has comprised of sculptures by many different artists and whilst I knew I would enjoy the Flannagan sculptures, I do prefer the bigger more diverse event that I’ve posted about before I’m a bit puzzled that it’s described as a ‘selling exhibition’, could so many of Flanagan’s works be for sale at once? But then  is anything is for sale if the price is right?

Bdahlia

As a child I could never quite master the word dahlia, I always called them bdahlias, b’s and d’s were never a friend of mine.

My Dad grew lots of dahlias his favourites were  spiky deep crimson varieties, they always remind me of him (and earwigs!). He used to insist each autumn on drying the tubers that he’d lifted from the flower bed (to protect them from frost)  in the airing cupboard. My Mum was never impressed by this intrusion to her line dried laundry!  I snapped these  dahlias in the garden at Chatsworth House on Saturday, I nipped over just in time to capture the penultimate day of the Barry Flanagan sculpture exhibition. More photos to follow.