I am Green


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Shades of Green

Shades of Green

There were too many people from tour buses wandering through the rain forest on the twenty minutes of exploration time allowed for on our itinerary for me to fully indulge my senses amongst the verdant vegetation. I’d like to have plunged my face into the silky wild grasses whispering in the wind. I’d like to have felt them whisper-tickling my brow. I’d like to have caught the trickling water on my tongue as it dripped from leaf to leaf. I’d like to have cradled my face between hand-shaped leaves of what looked like a rubber plant. Oh to be held between the palms of Mother Nature. There are so many shades of green here in this luscious forrest. My time is up in this slice of heaven and I must get back on the bus.

South Island Rain Forest. Photo courtesy of gorentals.com on Google Images.

South Island Rain Forest.
Photo courtesy of gorentals.com on Google Images.

We drive past hitch-hikers, and a few of us who sat together the previous day on a different bus recall a young couple who left our bus to hitch-hike in another direction. They seemed very young. The girl looked around sixteen. her long blonde hair looked as though it had encountered some stormy weather. She seemed to be in charge. She carried the guidebook and spoke to our bus driver, Pete. She pointed to a map and Pete nodded. The girl knew exactly where she wanted to get off the bus. The boy, who didn’t look any older than the girl, dashed off the bus without saying anything. He fiddled with his hands, seeming not to be able to contain himself. He looked anxious. Maybe he’d have preferred to have caught the earlier bus – the one that actually went to the place his girlfriend had indicated on the map. The six of us who had sat together observing the couple agreed that if we had been driving we would not have stopped have for them. I wonder why?

‘I was like them once.” Driver Pete frequently joined in our conversation. He has a wonderful sense of humour. The six of us were like a school-girl cliche, snickering from time to time at a semi-private joke. There were two conversations going on on our bus. There was Pete delivering his commentary with the occasional comment thrown in from someone towards the back of the bus. And then there was our little group – the teachers pets at the front of the class, lapping up the attention our Pete was paying us. Pete indulged us, throwing in anecdotes that showed us his deep commitment to his glorious land and his neighbour-people.

“I’ve traveled all over New Zealand with my thumb. I did it as long as I could, but when I felt I was getting old it was time to settle down to a job. That’s why I’m here doing this.” Of course Pete hasn’t really given up traveling. Here he is driving a bus, sometimes going off for days and spending his nights all around his Island. It is obvious he likes his job. It is obvious he likes to tell us stories.

At our next stop along the way to Milford Sound I manage to escape my fellow passengers for ten minutes. I find my green this time. I am leaning over a railing looking through the green of trees at the sea and plants. I have time to meditate on what it means to be green

Many shades of being green

Many shades of being green

The art of translation – What is Green?

Five years ago when I was studying for my MFA in Creative Writing at Antioch University Los Angeles, I took a unit on Translation. The fact that Antioch offered this unit was one of the reasons I wanted to study there as opposed to any other MFA program. During my time at Antioch we focused on translating poetry from Chinese, Japanese and Spanish languages. We didn’t need to be able to speak or understand any of the languages. In fact, our Chinese came from ancient Chinese languages. There was one translation exercise that affected me more than others. We were given a poem consisting of about 6 lines of Chinese characters. For each word-like string of characters we were given a list of possible English word translations. I was struck by how many English words could possibly be substituted for each Chinese “word.” You can imagine how potentially difficult this made translating a poem into English, modern day English at that. We soon learned the importance of learning what we could about the author. Sometimes we didn’t have any information about the author. We researched the political and cultural climate of the time. We considered spiritual aspects of life at that time.

My senses were infused with a multitude of descriptions and essences of “Green.” In my favourite poem (sorry I can’t remember it now. I’ll go back to my MFA notes when I get home) I felt absolute awe for the number of “greens” the author was able to convey. The poem was about a man sitting in what I can only summarise as a rain forest. The smells, shades of light, textures and tastes of green, the character of the man along with the sounds of nature evoked in that poem will stay with me always.


I am Green

I have eyes that sparkle jade when I am happy and dull to the grey of a threatening ocean swell when I am sad. I was conceived on an emerald isle where once I was the apple of my father’s eye.

I can inhabit the infamous green-eyed monster on occasions, although this is lessening as I grow sage with age. My skin turns to olive in the summer sun. I inhale the fir forest and feel drunk on the scent of new-mown grass. In autumn I* can sit in the gold light of evening and will sometimes with the drooping willow.

Green is the colour of my early days – callow then as the day was long. I could strut with my teenage friends opening our feathers to reveal the peacocks we were in every sense of the bird. As a child I would eat spinach only because so did Popeye.

Green is my state of mind. I can sink into a puerile state of meditation. I am naïve, but often creative, burgeoning, budding, bosky and blooming.

Our planet needs green and while I try to live my life as kindly as I can to our blessed planet, we all need to work much harder at embracing green.


Weekly Photo Challenge – Lost in the Details


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I love animals.In these two sets of photos I have tried to capture the Koala Bear we are tempted to interpret – cuddly and you want to hug him. I have tried to get lost in the details and focus on the other side of the Koala.Look at those claws.

In the next pair of photos I have looked at the cow as a beloved farm yard animal, and then again as a commodity.

Cuddly Koala

Cuddly Koala

Take a look at those claws

Take a look at those claws

Ah! So sweet

Ah! So sweet

The unromantic side of the beloved farmyard animal.

The unromantic side of the beloved farmyard animal.

Koala, Kangaroos and Albatross


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I am traveling in Australia right now and am having trouble finding spots with adequate bandwidth to post videos. So, while I have the opportunity, I want to give you a taste of some of what I have seen. Please excuse the quality of the videos. I took them with a phone camera. I hope you will celebrate these wonderful animals with me. Who can resist Koala Bears?

I adore these Kangaroos. It was very windy on a beach when I took this film, so prepare for some noise.

Last video for today … I have never seen such large pelicans before.

Daily Photo Challenge


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Pelicans eagerly await the cast offs as the fisherment gut the catch of the day.

Pelicans eagerly await the cast offs as the fishermen gut the catch of the day.

I have never seen such huge Pelicans. Their beaks are amazing – talk about “jaw dropping.” They are very aggressive while waiting for food. The poor smaller birds don’t stand a chance. I got some great video of them feeding.I’ll post it in April when I get home and have more bandwidth.

The catch of the day.Fishermen spread the wings on this incredible fish. How can we eat such beauty?

The catch of the day. Fishermen spread the wings on this incredible fish. How can we eat such beauty?

Of Myths and Legends, Story and Magnificence


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Belinda at Fox Glacier

Belinda at Fox Glacier

We have travelled through volcanic owned landscapes. We have marveled at mountains rising from seemingly bottomless glacial rivers and lakes into a never-ending sky. The New Zealanders, original and immigrants, clearly took the time to consider the beauty before them before naming mountain ranges, lakes, glaciers and towns with names like “The Remarkables,” “Aspiring”. The rivers named “Roaring Meg” and “Gentle Annie” speak to the collective sense of humour and acknowledgment of characteristics of people and geography by early New Zealand settlers.

A huge chunk of the glacier falls off every day

A huge chunk of the glacier falls off every day

New Zealand is a land of story. There is a creation story attached to everywhere you go. Stories tell of how the country was formed, about how places were named, about early settlers, and even more recently about a sheep local school children named Shrek. Shrek came down from the mountains one day. He was wooly beyond belief, shearers estimating that he had evaded them and hadn’t been shorn for seven years.

Shrek the sheep

Shrek the sheep

Maori mythology tells us how the world was created, but traveling in New Zealand we are frequently reminded by guides and travel articles about how the north and south islands were created. According to Māori mythology, the North and South Islands of New Zealand came about due to some mischief by the demigod Māui. While fishing at sea with his brothers one day, Māui caught a very big fish. While he wasn’t looking Māori’s brothers fought over the fish and chopped it up. The larger remaining portion of the fish became the North Island, thus the Maori name for the North – Ika-a-Maui (the fish of Māui) and the next largest portion became the South Island. All the smaller chopped up pieces became the mountains, lakes, rivers etc. This is one demigod’s story.  As you travel through New Zealand you will hear more stories claiming rights of creation and ownership of the land. What would we do without our myths and legends? We are like school children getting off the bus. Memories of early school days are sparked by our Driver, Pete, and his references to our collective selves. We pull into a car park off the highway and Driver Pete calls out “Scenic people, listen up, and I hear my first form teach, Miss Grant calling us to order – Miss Grant’s class line up in twos please. Pete stands up in the bus as though at the front of the class. His stomach is hanging over his trouser belt now. It has been a long hot drive and it is no wonder his shirt is sticking to him and as he runs his fingers over his thinning scalp beads of sweat help hold his thinning hair in place. “We only have fifteen minutes here. Get off the bus quickly and follow the signs into the rain forest walk. Anyone can do it. It is not difficult.” Tired and stiff passengers stand up, stretch and reach for cameras. A few of us spot Kea birds hopping from car to parked car. We are excited pointing the birds out to each other. “Scenic people.” Pete’s voice is first form teacher threatening. “Do not be tempted to take time to take photos of the Keas when you get off the bus. They will still be here after your walk.” I ignore Pete. I take photos until he catches me and shoos me along with the rest of the herd. I whisper a deal with my husband. Ken is to do the walk and take photos and show me later. He is to take the “big girl camera”, my friend, Kim’s nickname for our new Canon 5D mark ii. I am to double back and hot foot it to the car park in search of those beautiful birds. I try to catch the Keas in flight, but my photo is a blurr of colour. I catch one playful kea attempting to rip an antenna off a car, while his buddy tries to eat his way through the seal around the window. Who knows what mischief they would create if they pecked their way into a car? I love these demon gorgeous birds. Pete herds us into our seats. We are on our way to Milford Sound. From his driver’s seat, microphone close to his lips, Pete talks to us about the difference between a Sound and a Lake. I know there has been some dispute, and i have to admit I wish we were on our way to Doubtful Sound – another descriptive name given to this body of water but curious discoverers.

To be continued …..



Mind the Gap


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We are sitting in a cafe in Papakoura, about a half hour drive outside of Auckland airport, New Zealand. Not a great coffee lover, I am amazed at the silky soft hot drink I’m sipping.This is truly the best Latte I have ever tasted. The company is rather special too. When our flight landed ahead of schedule at 4:am from San Francisco to Auckland we headed out for the train station in Papakoura where we would meet up with The Northern Explorer train to Wellington. “You’re early.” The woman at the ticket counter had a warm smile and a cheerful demeanor. We would soon learn that the warmth and friendliness this woman showed us is common in New Zealand where strangers are welcome. We asked if there was anywhere we could get a coffee and hang out for the next couple of hours while we waited for the train. It was thanks to the blonde curly haired ticket lady that we ended up Chez Trish on the outskirts of this little town.

Superb Cafe Mottletop

Superb Cafe Mottletop

Having left our suitcases at the station under the watchful eye of our ticketing friend, we stumbled into cafe Mottletop out of the warm drizzle that reminds me so much of Portia’s “gentle rains from Heaven.” If a coffee shop is filled with books I know I have come to the right place. No wonder the coffee tastes so good. What is it that makes a place welcoming? Naturally the scent of freshly baked goods,cheese scones, muffins, brownies and much more is enticing. The long red glass top table with a shelf of magazines beckoning from beneath the glass reminds me of home and I want to pull some of them out and flip through recipes in the Woman magazine, and indulge in the photos and stories from National Geographic. I scan the book shelves to see what’s there. The books we carry tell us so much about each other and Trish, and her assistant, Faith, are as delightful as the tomes in the refectory style cafe. “Are you travelers?” We’ve shared our travel plans with Trish and Faith and Trish, delighted to have a couple from San Francisco stumble into her shop is introducing us to all the locals who roll in for their early morning fix. It took me a few seconds to respond to the question. Where I come from “travelers” is another name for gypsies, or tinkers. i smile at the thought and say yes. Trish jumps in and tells the sandy haired man wearing an open fleece jacket over a polo-neck and shorts;”They’ve come all the way from San Francisco and ended up here in little Papakoura’. I love Trish. She is one of those women who radiates warmth, friendship and sheer joy at being in your company.I discover when leaving that she is huggy like me. Trish’s locals are interesting and as welcoming as she is. it is the first day back at school and we share the anticipation of a new school year with a couple of teachers, one of whom is clinging to the hope that the kids keep their energy in check as she is tired this morning, and the other has “butterflies in my stomach. Much like the little ones, I suppose.” We have moved from the bar stools at the counter and settled at a table. In this position by the door and window I feel as though I am holding court being greeted by all who come and go and share a slice of life with us. “It’s my son’s first day at school.” A man stands with coffee mug and scone in front of us and makes his announcement. “Congratulations” I say and “you must be so proud.” What strikes me is this father’s age.He has the look of a man in his late forties, maybe early fifties. I cannot imagine having a young child of my own about to start school. There is so much time between here, where I am now, and there where my own daughter was twenty-two years ago. “They’re travelers,” our fleecy friend feels the need to point out to our proud father. We repeat our itinerary which at that time saw us leaving New Zealand after a two week visit and heading out to Australia, Singapore, South Africa, and Brazil before returning to San Francisco. Since our coffee chez Trish we have added Zambia, Zimbabwe and Botswana to our list of countries to explore. Trish takes a photo of us for her Face Book page. We exchange hugs and I promise to send postcards. Armed with hot-buttered cheese scones we head back to the station, thankful for my new purple rain jacket bought at REI in a “just in case” moment. The Pacific Ocean is the largest ocean in the world.The distance between San Francisco and Aukland is 6,543miles. We have spanned an enormous gap. Yet the gap that we have travelled across is extraordinary in many ways, and I feel sensitive to where we are, what I know, and more importantly don’t know about it. In London, underground commuters are used to the recording of the woman with the BBC English accent calling out “Mind the Gap,” when the train doors open at each station and bustling passengers push and shove to get off and on the train. The newer tubes have been designed to cover the gap. The gap to be minded as I travel in New Zealand and onward is that of culture, history, customs, social norms and expectations,and language. It is all too tempting to fall into the pseudo-comfort zone of believing that the English language is “English” everywhere it is spoken. I know all too well coming from England and living in the USA that this is not so. There are words, and phrases, and idioms that while the words are the same the meaning is not. Each group of English language speakers have their own subsets of communicators who express and understand each other according to many sociolinguistic factors. For now i am delighted that the spelling I use, English English, as opposed to American English is the same as that used in New Zealand. Such a colourful place! (Sorry. I couldn’t resist it.) As a British person traveling in New Zealand, I need to be mindful of the history. I need to be respectful of the past, of the pain and strife inflicted on the native Maori people by the British settlers. There are under-currents still today. There is a gap between us, a gap in understanding and acceptance of the past. I will write more about the history and mythoology of this great land as I move along with my journey. What I can tell you now is that I will certainly take heed and mind the gap.

Today is the day! Welcome to Bake and Bake Break Bread Friday

Hello Everyone. Happy Friday. I hope you had a super Thanksgiving. Please take a look at the last couple of posts to get ideas for bread recipes. I will be baking one loaf today, and another on Saturday to join our non USA friends.

I am so encouraged to see followers from India, Croatia, Bangladesh, Russia, Republic of Korea, Canada, UK, Iraq, Israel, Belgium, Macedonia, Australia, and many others showing interest in our special day. It would be great to see recipes from all over the world. I would be really grateful if you could repost my Blog and see how many others can join us. Stay in touch during the weekend. I’m off to prepare to bake now.

Tip: Make sure to have all your ingredients weighed and measured before you start. Remember not to let the yeast and the salt touch in the bowl. Put them in on opposite sides.

Bake and Break Bread preparation

Belinda’s Irish Soda Bread Loaf

Inspired by Bob Geldof’s hugely successful “Live Aid” to raise money for Africa in 1985, the English cook, Delia Smith, came up with an idea for continuing the fund-raising effort. Delia, with the help of BBC Radio Presenter, Terry Wogan, and Frances Whitaker mobilised celebrities, chefs and home bakers into creating a cookbook sharing their favourite recipes. The book: The Food Aid Cookery Book, edited by Delia Smith and with a foreword by Terry Wogan, went on sale in December 1986 with all proceeds from the sale going to the Africa fund. The following recipe for Irish Soda Bread – Quick Crunchy Brown Bread was submitted by Sister Kathleen O’Sullivan, from Newmarket, Cambridgeshire, UK. Sister Kathleen’s recipe is very similar to the recipe I came to know as a child. You can bake this in a loaf tin, or make it as a round with quarter cuts as is traditional.

6oz (175g) wholemeal flour

2oz (50g) plain flour

1oz (25g) pinhead oatmeal

1oz (25g) wheatgerm

1oz (25g) bran

1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon sugar

1 egg

1/2 pint buttermilk

Pre-heat oven to gas mark 5, 375 F, 190 C. Grease a 1LB loaf pan thoroughly.

Place the dry ingredients in a large, roomy bowl, then beat the egg and buttermilk together and add to the dry ingredients. Mix first with a fork then finish off with your hands, to form a smooth dough. Transfer the dough to the tin, level the top and bake in the centre of the oven for 50-60 minutes. Turn it straight out onto a wire rack to cool.

(I always tap the underside of a loaf and if it sounds hollow I know it is done. I also turn the loaf upside down in the oven for the last few minutes.)

This photo of the traditional round comes from the following superb blog. Check this out. You can follow the link to the society for the preservation of Irish Soda Bread too if you’d like to learn more.

Irish Soda Bread Round


I’m off to do some shopping now for Thanksgiving dinner. I will post a note about ingredients and equipment for your bread baking project later today.

Bake and Break Bread Day 2012


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My first attempt at the plaited loaf

Dear Friends,

I’m back in the land of the living – here in beautiful Big Sur. I am so thankful to be able to sit here – working (!) and looking down the south coast. The sun is shining. There is a nip in the air. Some of you know that I’ve become a little, shall we say preoccupied with baking bread? I was so inspired by the wonderful bakers in The Great British Bake Off, that I bought the book from the current series. The book for this season was all about “Showstoppers.” I wanted to take the technical challenges. I started with Paul’s Plaited Loaf. For those of you outside the UK, a plait is a braid. Paul Hollywood’s plait has 8 strands. I’m not very spatially oriented, so unable to see the pattern, I just had to trust the process and follow the instructions carefully. I loved making this loaf, so much so that I made it again two days later. It as a fun contribution to take t a dinner with neighbours. Unable to contain my excitement that I had actually managed to do this, I posted photos of my loaf on Facebook. I threw out the suggestion to my fb friends that we made the day after Thanksgiving here in the US a day to bake bread and share it with friends. The day after Thanksgiving is a big shopping day in the US. There are sales and crushes of people fighting for that very special and very limited deal. Instead of going shopping I suggested we stay home and bake.

To my absolute delight this idea was welcomed by quite a few of my friends, and even more by some of your friends. How exciting! Thanksgiving is on Thursday November 22nd this year. Friday is a holiday for all but the retail industry. It isn’t a holiday in Europe, and so I would like to invite as many of you who would like to, to join across the continents and bake and break bread.

It would be great if you could email me photos of your bread baking and breaking experiences, and tell me any stories you’d like to share. I am posting a few bread recipes below to help you get started. I’ll add more over the next couple of days.

The idea is to bake. Bake whatever kind of bread you like. A friend asked if it is okay to use a bread machine. Of course it is. Use a machine, a mixer, do it by hand, basically just bake bread. Be as creative or as careful as you like.

The easiest loaf I know how to make is the No Knead Bread from the NYTimes. If you decide to do this you need to start it the night before you want to serve it. Delia Smith has a great recipe for a quick and easy wholemeal (whole-wheat) loaf. And of course, you might like to try the plaited (braided) loaf. If you would like to share other bread recipes with us, please respond to this post with a comment that includes the recipe.

For Delia’s recipe go to: http://www.deliaonline.com and type in the search box “Quick and easy Wholemeal Loaf.”

I would encourage all of you who love to bake to buy The Great British Bake Off. How to Turn Everyday Bakes into showstoppers. Linda Collister, Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood  ISBN 978-1-849-90463-6

The photo in the book is far better, as I’m sure is the actual loaf than the one I made. You can have a look at my photo though to get a rough idea of how it looks.

Happy baking!

The Great British Bake Off

Judge’s Technical Challenge

Paul’s Plaited Loaf 

500g strong white bread flour

10g salt

2 x 7g sachets fast-action dried yeast

20ml olive oil

340ml water, at room temperature

1 beaten egg, mixed with a pinch of salt, to glaze

1 baking sheet dusted with flour

  1. Put the flour in a mixing bowl. Put the salt on one side of the bowl and the yeast on the other, making sure they don’t touch as the salt can kill the yeast. Add the oil, then stir together with your hand or a spoon until everything is evenly mixed.
  2. Add three-quarters of the water and bring the mixture together with your hands. Work in the rest of the water. Knead the dough for about 10 minutes until it is silky and very stretchy. The dough should be slightly soft but not sticky, nor dry and tough.
  3. Tip the dough into a lightly oiled bowl, cover tightly with clingfilm and leave to rise at room temperature for about 1 hour until doubled in size.
  4. Punch down (knock back) the risen dough to deflate, then turn it out onto a lightly floured worktop and shape into a ball. Divide into 8 equal pieces. Using your hands, roll each piece on the worktop until it is a thin, sausage-shaped strand about 40cm long.
  5. Lay the strands of dough out on the floured worktop like an octopus and tack all the gathered ends to the table with your thumb. As they are laid out in front of you, number them 1-8 and proceed to plait following the sequence below. Note that every time you move a strand, the order of the numbers will revert to the original 1-8 sequence.

Step 1: Place strand 8 under strand 7, then over strand 1.

Step 2: Strand 8 over strand 5.

Step 3: Strand 2 under strand 3, then over strand 8.

Step 4: Strand 1 over strand 4.

Step 5: Strand 7 under strand 6 then over strand 1.

Repeat from step 2 until all the strands are plaited, then tuck the ends under the loaf to neaten.

  1. Set the plaited loaf on the floured baking sheet and leave to rise at room temperature for about an hour until almost doubled in size. Towards the end of the rising time preheat the oven to 200C/400F/gas 6.
  2. Brush the risen loaf with seasoned beaten egg to glaze, then bake for 20-25 minutes until golden brown and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped on the underside.
  3. Cool on a wire rack.

Recipe taken from: The Great British Bake Off. How to Turn Everyday Bakes into showstoppers. Linda Collister, Mary Berry, Paul Hollywood  ISBN 978-1-849-90463-6

No Knead Bread: NYTimes  (Sorry, I can’t find my photo of this one.)

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed.

1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.

2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.

Yield: One 1½-pound loaf.

Weekly photo challenge



Having taken a break from “computer writing” and having focussed on hand writing for a few months, I’m back in the land of “techno stuff.” Over the next few weeks I will continue the challenge of transcribing what I’ve written and hopefully get back to blogging. I’ve been doing a lot of travelling.

I was inspired to upload the following photos by my recent trip to France during the grape picking season. The Vendange continues for another couple of weeks. I just left France a few days ago. This is real “Everyday Life” in much of France at this time of year. I hope you enjoy the photos! The grapes are harvested at dawn so as not to risk over ripening during the picking process if done in hot sun.

Grapes on the move

The grapes make their journey to the Caves, frequently cooperatives.  On arrival they are weighed, and the sorting – triage process begins.

4000 kilos of grapes on the way to the crush

After the triage and crush the remaining skins and stems are loaded into trucks and taken back to some fields as fertiliser.

After the crush skins and stalks return to the fields


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