Son, like me, has a blog. He writes weekly. I would struggle to achieve that regularity.
As I mentioned previously, I often only know what he is up to by reading it.

Mostly I don't worry about him. He is a grown up.

But I do get concerned when he starts asking questions about my life and that of my other half (OH) in the public domain.

'Why are there 7 open packets of peas in the freezer' he asked in a blog post recently, when home alone in our house while we were on the other side of the planet.

This question he put out there; to the whole world. I take it as a mild criticism of our daily habits, but am not suprised. I know this is an issue. I blame OH ( my other half), for he is the one who purchases peas. I prefer other green vegetables. Cabbage and spinach for example.
I have already suggested that he put a hold on pea purchasing. And anchovies ( 10 tins in the cupboard). OH is trying.

To son I would say ' but half of them are soya beans.......'

Son is a nomad, and rarely makes visits home to the UK. So it was ironic that when he needed to come home for a week we were far away in Vancouver, visiting daughter, who has also left these shores.
Son had the house to himself. And the garden. fresh vegetables on tap, and two bathrooms.

So here is a question to son..... ( I feel I should respond in kind) ..... ' sertu; enr tui o;qernut;wenrtuq eiort u'?

It doesn't need an answer, any more than the pea question. Just needed to be said. And I am far too polite to put it out to the whole world.....

So having got that out of my system I can discuss more erudite topics.

Except that I am struggling; as I often do, to know what to write. So today I am writing without knowing where my words will lead. Just do it...... as the saying goes.....

My biggest question at present is 'how will I make it through the winter'?

A recent browse through my typewritten diary notes makes me acutely aware that my mood dips dramatically in winter. I wish it were possible to 'bank' the positive feelings that summer brings.

I found myself considering this question as OH and I travelled together around Alaska for our 'summer' holiday. Strongly infuenced by my visit to the Francesca Woodman and Julia Margaret Cameron exhibition at the V&A in London, I found myself processing images from our journey in a certain way.

Some are very dark and moody; it did rain while we were there.... I am reminded of Twin Peaks; our favourite TV programme until Breaking Bad came along.

This lead to me thinking about the cold and dark of winter, and how bad weather can make for great photos, but may not help one's mood.

OH takes bad weather as a personal insult, so I was very grateful that for at least a third of  our time in Alaska we had blazing sunshine and heat. Not so good for my kind of photography.

 
Seeing Denali was a bucket list trip for me. It is the highest mountain in the US, and had had a romantic draw over me for some years. I just wanted to be there. In the middle of nowhere. With all the other tourists and cruise passengers who also had the same idea.

Not to mention a family from Nepal who were visiting because their father, an elderly gentleman, had always wanted to visit Alaska. It seems that living in a land with epically spectacular mountains isn't enough. Other mountains still need to be seen. I am not alone.

Which leads me to thinking that how I process my images depends on what story I wish to tell. Dark and moody fights with bright and cheerful much of the time. There is not much in- between. Up and down. High and low. Just like the light and the seasons.

I should tell the story of how one day Denali mountain was hidden in the clouds. From our hotel room we could see the mountains, and thought it was Denali that we were seeing on the horizon. The next morning I opened the curtains and realised how wrong we had been. Denali had revealed itself in all its glory. The mountains of the day before were just the beginnings of the mountain range; the foothills. I cannot describe my joy at this revelation. I dragged OH out of bed to gaze at the spectacle. Even he was impressed. 

My dream had been fulfilled. Denali is only visible on average one day in three.
We got lucky.

My lack of a telephoto lens on this trip meant I could not capture the mountain as I would have wished. This was a downside of attempting to travel light.

What I hadn't appreciated is how far away Denali is from any road; over 100 miles!  Or that the road to see it closer up in the National Park is blocked by a landslide, caused by melting of the frozen tundra. It won't be repaired for at least another year.

Our pre-imagined landscape can be very different from reality, and what we see in TV programmes and holiday brochures isn't always what we find when we reach the destination. A hiking guide I know who takes photos for travel brochures is instructed to have blue sky in most of his images. We all know how different a heavy grey sky can make to an experience. The lack of light and shadow makes for very dull photos.

We found more inspiring and dramatic landscapes on the drive south-east from Fairbanks. And amazing clouds. Weather and skies play such a vital part in the experience. This is why I prefer to stay longer in one place, to see it at its worst and at its best. The longer you stay, the more likely you are to get great conditions for photography. A residency is perfect!

I would like to share my wonder at the Alaskan forest floor; a lush covering of berry rich bushes, ferns and mosses. I have more photos of the undergrowth than of anything else.

But I am meandering.

I don't have a strong story to tell. I didn't come back with thousands of images.

This was a family holiday. Not a photography trip. A fly-drive, not a hiking trip that would have got me deep into the tundra scenery away from the other visitors. I will save that for another day.

I ate a lot of salmon. We did a lot of driving. OH and I survived 14 days together

I realised a dream.

And yes, we did see bears, and I am now an expert on how to behave if you see a moose, a brown bear or a black bear.

Just dont mix them up or you will possibly end up dead.

Nobody that I know really understood what I meant when I said that I was going on a course to learn abstract calligraphy. It is very hard to describe.

Even I was unsure what I was letting myself in for when I booked to go to Tuscany for a week's workshop on the meeting of eastern and western calligraphic styles with Monica Dengo and Satsuki Hatsushima, from Italy and Japan respectively.

Ten days before I was due to set off I got a severe case of cold feet. I was worried by the programme notes that described a visit to view handwriting styles in medieval manuscripts at the local Sansepolcro archive. It sounded deadly serious, and far removed from what I had in mind from my knowledge of Monica's work.

I almost cancelled, but fortunately had my mind put at ease by a fellow photographer who happened to be doing the workshop 2 weeks ahead of me.

In order to get there I passed through Florence. I have never been to Florence, so decided to to take two days to explore the city before catching my train eastwards to Arezzo, and then Sansepolcro.

I knew Florence has a reputation for being busy. I had not realised how busy. I found myself heading away from the city centre, across the river, to the Boboli Gardens for a bit of peace and quiet. I found the strangest of lemons in the lemon garden.

I also found some beautiful roses with a perfect backdrop of washed blue paint. I was happy.

Obviously, there is a lot of very important art to see in Florence. On day two, having walked my legs off, I summoned the energy to face the Uffizi Gallery. I know practically nothing about Renaissance art. Michelangelo and  Botticelli were the only names that I really knew; two spectacularly famous artists, that I had never really appreciated other than when reading, many years ago, 'The Agony and the Ecstasy', the 1961 biographical novel about Michelangelo, written by Irving Stone.

I still remember vividly the story describing Michelangelo, as a boy, being given a large block of marble and chipping away at it from the outside in to create a figure.  I find this extraordinary; to have a vision of the outcome and be able to gradually work to achieve it by a process of removal rather than by addition as in so many other forms of art.

I found the art works in the Uffizi Gallery vibrant and beautiful, and was glad that I went as I can't see myself returning to a city where it is difficult to negotiate the streets due to the crowds.

Onwards then, to the real reason for my trip.

To Sansepolcro, a peaceful, walled, 11th century commune, with cobbled streets and some more famous art. This time by Pierro della Francesca. Another famous artist that I had never heard of, who lived and died in Sansepolcro.

To the arts centre where I found a room beautifully laid out ready for 16 participants, with walls to die for in pastel shades of plaster and paint.

And so began seven days of joy.

Exhausting and intense, but filled with laughter , experimentation and production.

We made marks in the traditional Japanese way, in a traditional western italic style, and then blended the two in many different ways.

Between lessons I feasted on peaches, tomatoes, mozarella and meatballs. Mascarpone and cantucci. Japanese snacks and plenty of herbal tea.

We made marks to different soundtracks.

I looked at the outcomes and knew that my family would think I was mad.

They were expecting traditional calligraphy.

The medieval manuscripts were old and fancy, and unlike those in the UK, I was surprised  that we were allowed to touch them. This was said to be because the content of these ancient ledgers was of no great historic significance.

I  looked at them for a while, and then wandered off to look at the walls downstairs.

What I hadn't realised from reading my daily programme was how exciting the next visit would be. A visit to the Burri museum a few miles away in Cita di Castello.

Well, not really a museum. More of an extraordinary modern art collection housed in an old tobacco drying warehouse. The work of just one local artist; Alberto Burri. I had never heard of him. Ignorance is my specialty.

Correctly named as the  Fondazione Palazzo Albizzini Collezione Burri » Ex Seccatoi del Tabacco, the building was vast. The art was dramatic and themed by colour.

I soaked it all up. Black, black and gold, multicoloured ; each in vast rooms that eventually became overwhelming, but which definitely impacted my work later in the week. The simplicity appealed immensely.

As the week progressed our tables became stacked with a multitude of papers covered in ink. Different papers, different tools. Many different styles and looks.

I was happiest with my marks made with a feather.

I also spent a long time experimenting with ways to write the word mountain as an ideogram, using western letters but in a Japanese style.

Meanwhile, Satsuki wrote the word 'mountain' with a very large brush in Japanese style onto brown paper, working on the floor.

I think my family would understand this a bit better.

By the end of the week we had turned some of our many papers and writings into hand made books. This was a challenge in such a short space of time.

Normally my books are the product of many hours thinking and experimenting. Some take months to make. The books I made in Sansepolcro were different, in that they were not created with any important message to convey. What they did do was to convey my own personal take on the ideas that we had assimilated during the week.

And what does all this have to do with being an 'outdoor' photographer? Obviously not much...... but......

It is a fine example of the pleasure to be had by jumping out of a particular creative 'box' into a new one; of the joy of trying new things, and of learning new techniques that feed new ideas. It is also a way to meet a wonderful bunch of people from all around the world.

The adventure was also a reminder that cold feet are normal when stepping out of one's comfort zone, and to just 'do it' anyway. Son would have told me that if I had asked.....

And when son asks me whether I have become less fit for our upcoming alpine adventure during my week of messing around with ink on paper, I can tell him that whilst having so much fun I also found time to do a little workout every day in my rooftop apartment. Just don't tell the landlady that I used the bedspread as my yoga mat.

Despite not being 'up' a mountain I felt on top of the world.

And finally, don't tell ANYONE that I never made it to see the artworks by Piero della Francesca in the Civic Museum. They would be truly shocked......

I did find a wonderful vegetable garden on the city wall though. The artichokes were spectacular!