ABOUT ME

I live in a camper van with a couple of West Highland Terriers for company.
My passion is photography but it is a work in progress.
I am always willing to share what knowledge I have and can be contacted through the comments on this post or e-mail ADRIAN
ALL IMAGES WILL ENLARGE WITH A LEFT CLICK

Thursday, 21 October 2010

ONOMATOPOEIA (21/10/10)

I really hope this title is spelt right…..no spell check in the title box so after numerous attempts I Googled it…..then forgot to write it down! Today is not a day for photography, it’s barely light but after heavy rain last night I thought a wander to the Lodore Falls would be worthwhile. I vaguely recalled this poem by Robert Southey and was lucky enough to find it printed in it’s original form……..If you look at the pattern of the lines it does, with a little imagination, resemble a waterfall. it is fun and worth reading….I promise. There are some pictures after it………not that they amount to much.

The Cataract of Lodore

"How does the Water
Come down at Lodore?"
My little boy ask'd me
Thus, once on a time;
And moreover he task'd me
To tell him in rhyme.
Anon at the word
There came first one daughter
And then came another,
To second and third
The request of their brother
And to hear how the water
Comes down at Lodore
With its rush and its roar,
As many a time
They had seen it before.
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store:
And 'twas in my vocation
For their recreation
That so should I sing
Because I was Laureate
To them and the King.
From its sources which well
In the Tarn on the fell;
From its fountains
In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills;
Through moss and through brake,
It runs and it creeps
For awhile till it sleeps
In its own little Lake.
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,
And through the wood-shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,
Hurry-scurry.
Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.

The Cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among:
Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting,
Around and around
With endless rebound!
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.
Collecting, projecting,
Receding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And flowing and going,
And running and stunning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dinning and spinning,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning;
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hurrying and scurrying,
And thundering and floundering,
Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And diving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering;
Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling,
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending,
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar,
And this way the water comes down at Lodore

Robert Southey. (Keswick, 1820)

Didn’t I promise……….the beggar must have swallowed a dictionary and a thesaurus and most likely a lexicon……he’s got me at it now. I just wish I could imbibe whatever it was he was on……………must have been a magic brew!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA The Lodore Falls. There is not enough water and they are difficult to get a good angle on. There is more rain forecast so I will go back and get soaked in the stream bed to try and do them justice.

PA217646_47_48_49_50_tonemapped_edited-1  Fairy country. The falls are surrounded by enchanting woodland…..dark, damp, enchanting woodland.

PA217659_60_61_62_63_tonemapped This one is HDR, as is the previous one, pretty enough but not exciting enough. Waterfalls need water, the more of it the better they are. This cataract is a hundred feet tall…………we will be back it’s only a short walk round the south end of Derwent Water.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   We crossed the river Derwent and it started to rain fortunately not as hard as the sudden reduction in light level would have had me believe.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA    There is really nothing to do on a day like this other than accept that without them it would be impossible to appreciate the magical days. This is looking north up Derwent Water.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA    As we neared home it started to brighten.

We are having a wonderful time here. I was supposed to go shopping today. Oh well tinned tuna and rice will suffice…………………It will have to.

Tomorrow is definitely, shopping day………..unless anything more interesting crops up. I could do with Tesco…….You Shop We Drop………I used it once… like a bran tub or lucky dip. Exciting if one has little concern for ones diet.

13 comments:

  1. The title is correct,I checked.!!
    This is a wonderful post,a fantastic poem to go with the falls,so descriptive.
    The photo's are lovely and I particularly like the woodland scene,Autumn and spring are my favorite times with woodland shots.
    Have a good weekend.

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  2. Excellent post as always Adrian.
    I've never read that poem before; a rare gift to be able to paint with words like that.
    Cracking pictures of the falls, and surrounding woodland too.

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  3. Enjoyed the poem, and I really like that river picture with the reflections in the water.

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  4. Good poet and the beautiful pictures.

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  5. It gets the head pounding if nothing else. Lovely autumn/winter shots ....as you well know..I like the doom and gloom. Keep it up the world is watching.

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  6. I once spent a fortnight based in Ambleside with never a dry day. There was only one species that holiday: Wetted Hikers. We were Greater Wetted Hikers or Lesser Wetted Hikers depending on the ferocity of the rain.

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  7. Looks like Mr Southey didn't leave much out of his poem, I wonder if it was raining at the time when he wrote it. Nice to see Skiddaw back to normal after yesterdays post !

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  8. Matron, thanks, took some spelling it did, glad to see you up and about, fully recovered shortly I hope.

    Keith, he is best known for his poem Inchcape Rock. He could write. it would be easier to count the words he left out.

    Dawntreader, the river is my favourite, not a good day but I've had a whole lot worse.

    Bob, he really isn't my sort of poet, he was a mate of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Wordsworth. Neither of whom I am fond of. They could all write though.

    Trevor it does and it is certainly fun. Keep looking in I predict several more days of gloom.

    GB, I sometime think that a fortnight was long enough for a holiday in the Lakes. It can rain for ever here. This week has been an exception with precipitation for only half the time.

    j_on_tour, yes back to normal here. I would imagine it was a little damp whilst he composed the poem. I suspect it's creation had more to do with nitrous oxide abuse than rain.

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  9. I'll borrow one of your expressions and call that a smashing poem! I think the last three photos are lovely, all soft and misty.

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  10. Pauline, isn't it just. Good job I had a vague recall of it, I needed some padding for this post. Thanks good job I took them as the falls were a bit of a let down.

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  11. More beautiful Lakeland pictures, Adrian, despite the weather.

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  12. The 19C poets certainly had a way with words but then they didn't have an idiot lantern in the corner of the room to numb the brain - wonderful. Love the first waterfall view, probably as it is closer cropped and with the autumn colours.

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  13. John, I'm far from happy with the waterfall pictures. I only ever switch I-Player on for the GP. Still can't write like them but I suppose for the privileged few education was better then. Mine was better than my son's though I did not enjoy school. Hours of interminable Latin which I am now grateful for. Amazing what sticks when knocked into one with a ruler or blackboard rubber.

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