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All Saints, Gazeley, Suffolk.
There was never any doubt I would go to Rob's funeral. Rob was born just two weeks before me, and in our many meetings, we found we had so much in common.
A drive to Ipswich should be something like only two and a half hours, but with the Dartford Crossing that could balloon to four or more.
My choice was to leave early, soon after Jools left for work, or wait to near nine once rush hour was over. If I was up early, I'd leave early, I said.
Which is what happened.
So, after coffee and Jools leaving, I loaded my camera stuff in the car, not bothering to program in a destination, as I knew the route to Suffolk so well.
Checking the internet I found the M2 was closed, so that meant taking the M20, which I like as it runs beside HS2, although over the years, vegetation growth now hides most of it, and with Eurostar cutting services due to Brexit, you're lucky to see a train on the line now.
I had a phone loaded with podcasts, so time flew by, even if travelling through the endless roadworks at 50mph seemed to take forever.
Dartford was jammed. But we inched forward, until as the bridge came in sight, traffic moved smoothly, and I followed the traffic down into the east bore of the tunnel.
Another glorious morning for travel, the sun shone from a clear blue sky, even if traffic was heavy, but I had time, so not pressing on like I usually do, making the drive a pleasant one.
Up through Essex, where most other traffic turned off at Stanstead, then up to the A11 junction, with it being not yet nine, I had several hours to fill before the ceremony.
I stopped at Cambridge services for breakfast, then programmed the first church in: Gazeley, which is just in Suffolk on the border with Cambridgeshire.
I took the next junction off, took two further turnings brought be to the village, which is divided by one of the widest village streets I have ever seen.
It was five past nine: would the church be open?
I parked on the opposite side of the road, grabbed my bag and camera, limped over, passing a warden putting new notices in the parish notice board. We exchange good mornings, and I walk to the porch.
The inner door was unlocked, and the heavy door swung after turning the metal ring handle.
I had made a list of four churches from Simon's list of the top 60 Suffolk churches, picking those on or near my route to Ipswich and which piqued my interest.
Here, it was the reset mediaeval glass.
Needless to say, I had the church to myself, the centuries hanging heavy inside as sunlight flooded in filling the Chancel with warm golden light.
Windows had several devotional dials carved in the surrounding stone, and a huge and "stunningly beautiful piscina, and beside it are sedilia that end in an arm rest carved in the shape of a beast" which caught my eye.
A display in the Chancel was of the decoration of the wooden roof above where panels contained carved beats, some actual and some mythical.
I photographed them all.
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All Saints is a large, remarkably good church in one of the sleepy, fat villages along the Cambridgeshire border, the sort of place you cycle through and imagine wistfully that you've won the lottery and could move there. The wide churchyard on both sides is a perfect setting for the church, which rises to heaven out of a perpendicular splendour of aisles, clerestories and battlements. The tower was complete by the 1470s when money was being left for a bell. The earlier chancel steadies the ship, anchoring it to earth quietly, although the tall east window has its spectacular moment too. And you step into a deliciously well-kept interior, full of interest.
One of the most significant medieval survivals here is not easily noticed. This is the range of 15th Century glass, which was reset by the Victorians high in the clerestory. This seems a curious thing to have done, since it defeats the purpose of a clerestory, but if they had not done so then we might have lost it. The glass matches the tracery in the north aisle windows, so that is probably where they came from. There are angels, three Saints and some shields, most of which are heraldic but two show the instruments of the passion and the Holy Trinity. I would not be surprised to learn that some of the shields are 19th century, but the figures are all original late 15th or early 16th century. The Saints are an unidentified Bishop, the hacksaw-wielding St Faith and one of my favourites, St Apollonia. She it was who was invoked by medieval people against toothache.
Waling from the nave up into the chancel, the space created by the clearing of clutter makes it at once mysterious and beautiful. Above, the early 16th century waggon roof is Suffolk's best of its kind. Mortlock points out the little angels bearing scrolls, the wheat ears and the vine sprays, and the surviving traces of colour. The low side window on the south side still has its hinges, for here it was that updraught to the rood would have sent the candles flickering in the mystical church of the 14th century. On the south side of the sanctuary is an exquisitely carved arched recess, that doesn't appear to have ever had a door, and may have been a very rare purpose-built Easter sepulchre at the time of the 1330s rebuilding. Opposite is a huge and stunningly beautiful piscina, and beside it are sedilia that end in an arm rest carved in the shape of a beast. It is one of the most significant Decorated moments in Suffolk.
On the floor of the chancel there is a tiny, perfect chalice brass, one of only two surviving in Suffolk. The other is at Rendham. Not far away is the indent of another chalice brass - or perhaps it was for the same one, and the brass has been moved for some reason. There are two chalice indents at Westhall, but nowhere else in Suffolk. Chalice brasses were popular memorials for Priests in the 15th and early 16th centuries, and thus were fair game for reformers. Heigham memorials of the late 16th century are on the walls. Back in the south aisle there is a splendid tombchest in Purbeck marble. It has lost its brasses, but the indents show us where they were, as do other indents in the aisle floors. Some heraldic brass shields survive, and show that Heighams were buried here. Brass inscriptions survive in the nave and the chancel, dating from the late 16th and early 17th centuries.
The 14th century font is a good example of the tracery pattern series that appeared in the decades before the Black Death. They may have been intended to spread ideas at that time of great artistic and intellectual flowering before it was so cruelly snatched away. The cover is 17th Century. At this end of the nave are two good ranges of medieval benches, one, rare in East Anglia, is a group of 14th Century benches with pierced tracery backs. Some of them appear to spell out words, and Mortlock thought one might say Salaman Sayet. The block of benches to the north appears to be 15th Century or possibly early 16th Century. Further north, the early 17th Century benches are simpler, even cruder, and were likely the work of the village carpenter.
All rather lovely then. And yet, it hasn't always been that way. All Saints at Gazeley, near Newmarket, was the first church that I visited after an international team of scientists conclusively proved that God did not exist began the first page for this church that I wrote in 2003, in a satirical mood after finding the church locked and at a very low ebb. At a time when congregations were generally falling, I'd been thinking about the future of medieval churches beyond a time when they would have people to use them in the traditional way. I wondered if the buildings might find new uses, or could adapt themselves to changing patterns and emphases in Christianity, or even changing spiritual needs of their parishes. Even if science could somehow prove that God did not exist, I suggested, there were parishes which would rise to the challenge and reinvent themselves, as churches have always done over the two millennia of Christianity. Coming to Gazeley I felt that here was a church which felt as if it had been abandoned. And yet, it seemed to me a church of such significance, such historical and spiritual importance, that its loss would be a disaster. If it had been clean, tidy and open at the time he was visiting, Simon Jenkins England's Thousand Best Churches would not have been able to resist it. Should the survival of such a treasure store depend upon the existence of God or the continued practice of the Christian faith? Or might there be other reasons to keep this extraordinary building in something like its present integrity?
In the first decade of the 21st Century, Gazeley church went on a tremendous journey, from being moribund to being the wonderful church you can visit today. If you want to read the slightly adapted 2006 entry for Gazeley, recounting this journey, you can do so here. Coming back here today always fills me with optimism for what can be achieved. On one occasion I mentioned my experiences of Gazeley church to a Catholic Priest friend of mine, and he said he hoped I knew I'd seen the power of the Holy Spirit at work. And perhaps that is so. Certainly, the energy and imagination of the people here have been fired by something. On that occasion I had wanted to find someone to ask about it, to find out how things stood now. But there was no one, and so the building spoke for them.
Back outside in the graveyard, the dog daisies clustered and waved their sun-kissed faces in the light breeze. The ancient building must have known many late-May days like this over the centuries, but think of all the changes that it has known inside! The general buffeting of the winds of history still leaves room for local squalls and lightning strikes. All Saints has known these, but for now a blessed calm reigns here. Long may it remain so.
Simon Knott, June 2019
The focus locked on nicely for this one. Unfortunately, the chosen aperture meant that the background is not blurry enough and I really find those leaves distracting. I'm still on that learning curve!
The warthog or common warthog (Phacochoerus africanus, "African Lens-Pig") is a wild member of the pig family that lives in Africa. The common name comes from the four large wart-like protrusions found on the head of the warthog, which serve the purpose of defense when males fight. They are the only widely recognised species in their genus, though some authors divide them into two species. On that classification, P. africanus is the common (or northern) warthog and P. aethiopicus is the desert warthog, also known as the Cape or Somali warthog.
The male is called a boar, the female a sow, and the young piglets. A group is called a sounder. Warthogs are fast runners and quite capable jumpers. They will often run with their tails in the air. Despite poor eyesight, warthogs have a good sense of smell, which they use for locating food, detecting predators and recognizing other animals. Although capable of fighting, and males will aggressively fight each other during mating season, a primary defense is to flee by means of fast sprinting. The main warthog predators are humans, lions, leopards, crocodiles, and hyenas. Cheetahs are also capable of catching small warthogs. Warthogs have been observed allowing banded mongooses to groom them to remove ticks.
One of many I saw at Whitecross Green Wood on Wednesday morning while looking for Brown Hairstreak butterflies with members of Butterfly Conservation. Some of the lizards were quite small and colourful while others like this one were larger and duller in colour, blending in with their surroundings a bit more.
This is a picture of the common milkweed flowers. I found this growing at Fort Smallwood Park in Pasadena, Maryland.
Sparrows Point Quad
Common trillium (Trillium grandiflorum)
28 April 2015
Sanford Natural Area on Michigan State University Campus, MI, USA.
Two different Common Ravens each carrying what looks like a chicken egg. Fly-by in Lancaster County, PA.
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2017 0924 013
Streatham Common is a large open space on the southern edge of Streatham in the London Borough of Lambeth. It has been designated a Local Nature Reserve.[1][2]
It is one of two former areas of common land in the former parish of Streatham. The other is now known as Tooting Bec Common. After enclosure, the Common was purchased for use as a public open space under the powers conferred under the Metropolitan Commons Act 1878. The Common was conveyed to the Metropolitan Board of Works and was subsequently administered by the London County Council and Greater London Council before maintenance responsibility passed to the London Borough of Lambeth in 1971.
My earliest reptile record on the patch.
It was warm yesterday but more importantly there was no wind.
Two degrees when I arrived and all the smaller ponds I checked were frozen.
Common Tansy is native to temperate Europe and Asia. It has been introduced to other parts of the world, including North America
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Two different Common Ravens each carrying what looks like a chicken egg. Fly-by in Lancaster County, PA.
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2017 0924 005
Hermitage Park, Edmonton, AB, Canada
7D | 300/2.8L + 2x | 1/500 sec., f/5.6, ISO 640
The Common Redpolls are now everywhere in the city in pretty good numbers. This is my Part 1 of the Common Redpoll post, which consists of shots from Hermitage Park, and hence different style of perches compare to the ones from Hawrelak Park. Enjoy!
Need a bit of help here on the ID. The closest I can see in the book is female scarce blue-tailed damselfly (Ischnura pumilio). It gets worse. This is a transitional phase. So if anyone knows better, please let me know.
Somebody did know better and evidently the spike under segment 8 is diagnostic for a common blue damselfly - much more likely and many thanks to Chris@184.
Well this has now gone to the top - Pam Taylor (a leading light of the Brit. Drag. Soc) has provided a very thorough ID and she agrees with Chris that it is a common blue - she adds, newly emerged which is why the wings are so shiny).
The Common Spherometer used by Dr. Sameen Ahmed Khan.
Spherometer measures the radii of curvature of spherical surfaces.
Common Bush Brown (Mycalesis perseus), Wet-season form
A species of satyrine butterfly found in South Asia and Southeast Asia - from the Himalayas, Kangra to Sikkim and Bhutan; from Bengal, Southern India and Ceylon. This form is fairly common throughout Burma; it extends to China and far into the Malayan Subregion.
Family:Nymphalidae
Jayanti Forest, Buxa Tiger Reserve
Butterflies of Bengal, India
**** This group of 73 photos may be viewed as a slide show. Click on the link below. Then, click on the computer icon in the upper right hand corner.
www.flickr.com/photos/rich0234/albums/72157700459661251/show
COMMON YEOMAN
(CIRROCHROA TYCHE ROTUNDATA)
Family:Nymphalidae
SubFamily:Heliconiinae
Common Name:Common Yeoman
Nikon D700
Micro Nikkor 200/4
LAO (2009)
Waterfalls Tad Xay
Family:Nymphalidae
SubFamily:Heliconiinae
Common Name:Common Yeoman
The Common Myna forages on the ground among grass for insects, especially for grasshoppers, from which it gets its genus name Acridotheres, "grasshopper hunter". They are closely associated with human habitation. Accomplished scavengers they feed on almost anything, including insects, fruits and vegetables, scraps or pet food. Considered as pests in Australia where they were introduced. This was clicked from the car.