Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

Earlier today at the pub, I mentioned to my colleague that when we arrived here, I started a blog, about our lives were, and what was happening.  I regaled this in order to lead onto a conversation about Urbex photography, and how 2 years ago, a girl emailed me asking me if I knew of a derelict abandoned chateau somewhere on the side of the planet- la Chateau Lumiere.

Urbex (Urban Exploration) photography, by definition “the art of finding old and abandoned buildings and locations, exploring them, and taking photos as you go. It’s exciting, potentially dangerous, legally ambiguous, and a lot of fun.”  And because its essentially trespassing, thus illegal, the actual locations of these photographed sites remain relatively secret, so you would kind of have to know someone who has done it before you can attempt to capture your own images.

I have to say, I LOVE the idea of Urbex photography.  Google it, and look at some of the images that come up (I’m not posting any of them here, for obvious reasons).  That said, as much as I love taking photos, I don’t have the skills to actually do it (although I’m sure a bit of an amateur course would fix that shortfall), and I would imagine that Urbex photography as a hobby would be restricted by married life with kids and a job.

However, it does appeal to me- trying to see and capture the beauty of something broken.  The one thing that strikes me the most about Urbex photography is (and this is obviously only apparent if the photographer has been able to utilise natural light to its best advantage), is the the broken, decaying, tarnished, rusted objects in the pictures are all highlighted by the use of God’s light (or Mother Nature, whoever you prefer to align to).  I guess it alludes to a higher being, to realise that it’s okay to be a little bit broken, that the light will still show up something magnificent.  [As a side comment, I was just perusing Instagram, and came across the the lyrics in a Leonard Cohen song: “There is a crack in everything.  That’s how the light gets in.”  (From the song Anthem). Bizarre little co-incidence.]

But, as quite common in my scribblings of days gone by, I digress.  I was going to say, have a look at my own  iPhone (very edited) photo that I took last weekend.  We went to play indoor cricket and indoor football at the Urban Soccer venue close to home.  It’s basically a row of disused (what I imagine to be) freight warehouses.  It’s located between the train station and the tram-yard depot.  It may or may not have been where they repaired trains, or where trains came in to off-load cargo.  Since train tracks are used for more for public transport, and here close to the Rhine, boats are used to haul other cargo around, so I guess this area fell into disuse. Now, its been taken up with indoor sports facilities- football, and an indoor BMX track (shame ne, poor, poor Northern Hemisphere weather… suckers….)

Anyway, between the football pitches, and the BMX track is a fence, and neatly attached to the chicken-fence wire, is black cloth, to block off the derelict space in between. Clearly, I was not exactly showing off my lack of footie skills among the group of men there, (I had hit a cricket ball around earlier) so I pulled aside the black cloth, aimed my phone lens through the chicken fence, and somehow managed to capture the lines of the overhead skylights, snatches of light pockets, an oil stain in the foreground- yes, it’s oil, not water- and the tangled branches of the end-of-winter tortured sapling, with her pitiful array of tattered leaves at her feet.

And then I added my Instagram editing skills ;-).  The origonal is nowhere close to being interesting!

 

Mmm, 642 words back, I started this letter to you, and got very sidetracked by photography babble.  What I had actually had in mind was to say that after 3 and a half years, une demi-année grief (or was it a full year?) and a further demi-année of self inflicted emotional torture, the reason for this blog has evolved. Maybe its purpose has fallen away.  I no longer have great missives to write to you.  Or maybe I do.  Maybe it will return to me when life has returned to normal. (I wanted to write something volatile about the awful Spur incident, but best I keep my trap shut ne?)

Spring is most defintely here- the magnolia trees on Place de la Republique are heavily pregnant- in fact, they’re in labour for what its worth.  The peach blossoms are an abundance of magnificent pink against the still-bare trees, and dotted around the city are some stunning white crab apple (peut-etre, mais je ne sais pas actuallement) trees.  The flowers cling to their branches like pom-poms.  Their white is so beautifully brilliant, and every time I move past them, either en velo, or sur la bus, I tell myself with determination to bring the camera out to capture their essence better than from a phone, but I forget.  I wonder if my girls will comply with a wee photo session on Sunday morning…

And then there’s Rue Schweighauser, which at the time of the year has tall trees, with a small white-green flower.  And if you walk past at a specific angle, the row of trees converges directly onto a sight of the Cathedral 2 kilometes beyond.  Seeing those images when the lighting is best, is serendipitous, but I fear capturing the perfect image is not going to be easy.  Especially because spring is such a short space in time.  Blink, and those blossoms will be gone.(I will try upload some photos if I get some more)

Work is going well.  I’m enjoying having adult company during the day, and maybe in time, I can try to include some work-related recipes here: lunch is a cheap, but tasty home-cooked meal, which may work well enough for blog content, if you’ll allow me.

And it’s March leading on to April and May, which will always be the months I get to remember Mum most especially.  She’s been appearing in my dreams lately, as real as life. Plus she’s always there in those trees that are giving birth to new life.  Always. Grief doesn’t ever seem to go away.

Alex turned 9.  She’s no longer my baby.  Instead, she’s a kind gentle soul, who always has time for anybody who will listen to her.  I’m blessed to have other Moms at school who compliment her (and Beth, but nobody sees the Beth in our home…) and her wonderful nature, her simple maturity.

 

 

And on that note, I think I have kept you a sufficiently long amount of time.  It’s time to have a warm bath, and wait for Friday night dinner to arrive.

Thank you for your support recently, and understanding my wishes.  Have a fabulous weekend everybody. Huge hugs and kisses to you all.

Chat soon, and don’t be a stranger,

Bis,

Moi,

Xxx