The bank holiday weekend has been and gone (although another is near at hand). I did a bit of painting (as in the inside of a cupboard, rather than a landscape or a still life, but the principles are more or less the same) and a bit of gardening, and watched, on and off, the snooker world championship on the television, which I've noticed always tends to be on during the early May bank holiday, almost as if they planned it this way.
Within this hectic schedule of events, I somehow managed to fit in a few walks, taking the new camera with me whenever I felt up to lugging it around. That is the only problem with a DSLR: you cannot readily slip it into a back pocket, especially if you want an extra lens or two, or tripod, or whatever. But I suppose that is the price you have to pay in order to take great photographs. Or, in my case, mediocre, under-exposed, blurry ones.
As it was, the light wasn't at its best when I went out, with the sun reluctant to show itself. I went along to Hare Hill to look at the rhododendrons, which were mostly in their prime, with a few looking a little faded, and a few more which hadn't really got going. They are perhaps not my favourite plant: while the flowers are delicate and colourful, they tend to grow quite large and threaten to take over your garden if you give them half a chance. For this reason they seem to have a bad reputation nowadays, with people frowning on their tendency to invade our quietly unassuming countryside and wipe out the indigenous species. And they don't flower all that long, which doesn't help, either.
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