danj72.bsky.social
Maker of Lanolin, beer, pictures
Reader
Writer
Runner
Mainly #vss365 #photography #poem #moon
Pictures and writing my own unless credited
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Great song
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Chaffinch getting out of the rain in Patterdale
August 28th 2024
#Photography
#StormHour
#PhotoHour
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🙂
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🙂
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Thanks 🙂
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Thanks, freehand.
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🙂
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It's a brilliant tunnel with a disappearing end. I never thought to flip it through.
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Flipped 🙂
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I'd say it's a Comma, nice picture
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Plenty of craft on the river, from Kayaks to a cruiseliner
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Soundlessly it exploded away towards the copse and then just as it hit the field edge it turned 90 degrees and through the hedge. That was it then, just a run back home through gathering gloom for a shower and something to eat.
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I wasn't really gaining but at the bottom of the dip it stopped and pricked up those long fluted sound catchers and turned an eye on my pale blue shirt now closing through the crop.
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As I trotted down I saw the two brown tips poking above the barleys' own ears. A steady lollopping stride indicated that they hadn't yet sensed me, still some way behind them.
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was repopulated with birdsong. I set off again, back the way I'd come, dodging the nettles as I crossed the shallow ditch. I ran back down towards the copse on the corner of the field.
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Initially it was fairly quiet and still. No wind to notice and just a few more distant birds. I'd punched a hole in the Twitter feed of the nearby trees. But, as I stood and looked up through the emerging lime green canopy, the braver voices started up, encouraging others until my silent space
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As I approached the top, two hares jumped cover and skedaddled into the trees soon lost amongst the dogs mercury carpeting the ground. There were tacky muddy puddles along the track but mostly it was a good surface to run on and as I got to the edge of the wood I slowed and stopped to listen.
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Thank you 🙂
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The trees framed it well
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Nature did it to be fair 🙂
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Fly my lovelies! Fly!
It still stuffs me full of adrenaline
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And he wasn't embarrassed when 6 year old me sang Bright Eyes to the rest of the cinema.
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My Dad read the book to me, one chapter each night and then took me to the pictures to see it. I was never frightened by the imagery or Woundworts ruthlessness because my Dad was sat next to me and he was my heavyweight champion of the world.