I took the bus to Dún Laoghaire late this afternoon, as it was one of those rare beautiful days. I saw bees galore hopping like mad from this branch at the corner of the road. As per usual, I helped myself to some photos. Yes, I know, my photos are so predictable at this stage. However, I see the changing face of nature, so every bee and every flower and every photo, has its own tale to tell. I wanted to incorporate the sky as the backdrop to add more vibrancy to the colours.
This is a nice one too. It’s not too easy trying to focus the camera as it blurs up the closer one gets. One has to persistently mess around with it, until it eventually falls into focus. A more expensive camera would be better able to pick up a clear view of the bee.
This is also a nice one that I honed in on at DL promenade. I always find that fuchsias always seem to more blurred than other flower snaps. I wonder has it anything to do with them being red? I don’t know anything about photography, but would love to do a course, as I adore taking photos of nature and landscape and animals. This one is not too out of focus, I think?
This is a very sedate photo. I was aiming for the flowers and the people sitting on the benches and Martello Tower and Forty-Foot in the far distance. This is a postcard type picture. It rather reminds me of Bournemouth in a way, as it shares a similar quaintness.
More flowers: these were growing on a rockery at the colloquially known ‘beach’ area. There is no sand on the beach, just gigantic rocks of various colours, stones and seaweed. It’s so unusual here. It is so well worth visiting for tourists coming to Ireland. It has every commodity here. I was in a beautiful nook and cranny reading Sylvia Plath’s belljar, whilst intermittently surveying my peaceful surroundings and listening to the sounds of children splashing their feet in the seaweed. I was thinking of the times as a child when I was cooped up in an industrial *school*, instead of being in the position of soaking up the beauty of nature. The people who have fond memories of their childhood will always tell you of the freedom they experienced, that helped them to bond with the world. I was also reminded of the children who were raised in an underground bunker and never experienced light, because some prophet was given a message by Mohammed.