Dreams Of Home

For many years "home" for me was the pretty village of Grantchester just outside Cambridge. In some ways it still is home as my mother still lives there and I visit her often to care for her (and the garden). Yesterday, while she had a friend visiting, I went out for a stroll with my camera along the familiar village street. 

Grantchester, as almost anyone who has visited the city of Cambridge well knows, is a favourite bolt-hole for any tourist who tires of the crowded colleges in the centre of town. I've also shown many photos from the village on this blog and recently it's been the setting for a TV drama. But today I sought to photograph details from those gardens which can be easily seen from the roadside.

As in the last post I thought I'd confine myself to ten photographs and I've given them a rather dreamy treatment, partly by tinkering on the computer but also by limiting the depth of focus, shooting against the rather fierce light and other tricks of the trade.

Cottages like the one above are much loved by all who visit the village though by no means everybody lives in them - or would want to for that matter!

The rather strange effect above is simply the shadows of plants and trees thrown onto a roughcast cottage wall.

This small house, originally built for farmworkers, has been left empty for a while but the garden plants have enjoyed the freedom to go exactly where they want! 

In the churchyard this nasturtium was determined to wake me from my reverie with its blast of incendiary orange.

Back to the greens and reds of our deserted garden for this little detail of the front doorstep as leaves slowly gather where no one any longer treads. Don't worry though, I'm sure this little house right next to the meadows will soon be snapped up as there is always a huge demand to live in such an idyllic setting, just a short cycle-ride from Cambridge.

It's the time of year for fungi to develop on any rotting wood and in any damp place.

A very smart yellow front door lurks amongst a riot of vegetation.

As Autumn edges into Winter the roses begin to feel their age and droop their heads a little.
And me? No, as long as we have this clean, fresh, sunny October weather I'll be striding out with head held high.


Take care.