Prairie: Photography, St. Ives, England, Birds

It's the changing of seasons here in St. Ives. The horrific winds from last week have stripped the trees bare of their leafy colours and the conkers have also fell victim - scattered about on the paths and walkways. Winter is a strange and mysterious time. Mother earth sleeps, producing no colours nor signs of life and routines are ruled by ebb and flow of light. Darkness settles in on St. Ives by four p.m. these days. I wandered familiar paths last Sunday - stopping by the quay to watch the bird life.

It's never quiet when the seagulls hang about. Greedy busters ! There have been reports of people being attacked by gulls. One elderly lady was so startled as it swooped down, she fell and broke her wrist. They can be a bit cheeky. Wish I could post an audio of them screeching "me, me me" and a video of how they fight and bicker over the snippets of bread - not unlike women at a 50% off sale event. Have you ever noticed how gulls always perch the same direction on a roof - like little soldiers ?

The Bridge Chapel had open doors this Sunday - they do this only a few times a year, December especially, being a month they like to ask for donations for this lovely old building. I discovered a fantastic website authored by Francis Firth - I will post a link at the end of this post - the site has oodles of black and white, vintage photos of St. Ives. This is what the Chapel looked like many, many years ago. Notice the difference in the bridge arches, some being round and some being pointed - evidence of the structure being re-built.

There's a placard on the quay that gives a concise history of the chapel.

This, is what the chapel looks like today - it's missing the layer-cake, top story. I captured some great photos of those crazy birds from this balcony. The seagulls swooped so close to me, I could feel the whoosh of air on my face as they flew by.

I love this little room. I wish though, that the Society would put more effort into decorating the inside. It has those lovely arched, lead glass windows that would be so pretty, embellished with holly and berries. Not all that inspiring. I'll probably get some raging emails for my comments.

See the dirt and cobwebs on the window ? It's leftover since Oliver Cromwell was alive ! Yep, that dirt and those cobwebs are 359 years old. The British take pride in protecting anything historical.

I've never been in the what I call the "basement" of the chapel. It was an absorbing moment, to stand in that room and feel the energy - the ghosts of the past. If only stone and wood could speak. The women that were volunteering that day were so friendly and didn't mind me asking, if I could move some personal things out of the way for to take photos - like their lunch boxes, thermoses and shopping bags. No heat in the chapel either and they were bundled up - including mittens. Bless em.

After visiting the chapel, I meandered down to the churchyard. I love this churchyard. Oliver Cromwell attend church services here - when he found spare time from executing people.

I saw this strange looking duck with a tuft of feathers on it's head. It reminded me of the character in the little book I wrote a few years ago. I wrote this children's book called "Stuck As A Duck" which I sent out to 30 some publishers - it got favourable comments, but they said it was too long for the age group. I must fix it some day. I need an illustrator, know of anyone ? Anyway - the story is about the adventures of a little boy who turns into a duck and on top of his head is a tuft of hair, that never turned into feathers. Am I boring you - waffling on ? What sort of duck is this anyway ? He was an evil little thing, kept nipping at all the other birds. Very bossy.