Chaffinch at Bempton

We had had a glorious day birdwatching at Bempton Cliffs near Bridlington and were just having a bite to eat outside the visitor centre when this Chaffinch landed about a yard away. He returned a number of times for ther crumbs falling at our feet.

There are so many colours and shades of colour on these birds. We now have a pair in our garden that must be nesting close by, so glad of that.

Shellduck.

Taken in Regents Park London on a sunny April afternoon this shellduck and others gave magnificent views both in and out of the water. With its shimmering colours it is a wonderful bird to photograph and watch.

Moonlight.

I like this photo that June took one night when she found it hard to sleep. The moon is a good subject when it comes to art. Some photographers are so dedicated to their calling spending hours in a hide or standing knee deep in icy water for the perfect shot. Any photo though is an image of a moment in time, a historic reminder of something only you were able to see at that second and from that particular angle. Some will bring back memories both good and bad, will cause you to laugh or even to weep, others will enable you ( us ) to look to the future and continue on the journey of life seeking for thet perfect experience or photograph.

The Dawning of the day.

No hint of lightening sky as Mary walked alone towards the place where they had buried him,
but fear and vague anticiparion filled her mind of what would be revealed when journey reached its end.
But that scene had changed,
the stone was moved away
and Jesus lay no longer in the tomb.
So she glanced around, not knowing what to do
and saw a man unrecognisable.
"Where have you taken him? Tell me now I pray."
She pleaded as warm tears rolled down her face.
With just one word
he brushed all doubt aside
and recognition dawned with the whisper of her name.
Then the sun burst through,
its rays alighting on his face
and resurrection life rejoiced
to see the dawning of the day.

It is time.

It is time to seek The Lord . The same Jesus who the disciple Thomas called God, who was God in flesh. He died so that we might live in him forever.

And it was night.

And it was night when they left their warm abode,
the remnants of a final meal.
a chill of fear entering each watchfull traveller
as through shadowed streets they walked a silent walk.

Yes he was with them but seemed a man apart,
engrossed in something somehow close at hand,
which only he could fully contemplate or comprehend.

Beyond the ancient walls
where cultured olive groves held sway

Jesus stopped and prayed,
pleaded with his Father
while his disciples slept,
dreaming of times gone by.

Was it the food, or unknown thoughts of horror
thet brought on sleep where he cried out in agony?
And that was when they came
to hustle him away,
and it was night.