One of the problems with having hundreds of photographs of places like Dartmoor is that unless you are extremely careful (which, if I am to be honest, I am not) you end up with rather a lot that cannot be properly identified. At the last count I have on my computer one hundred and forty-three such. To be fair, there are over a thousand in the Dartmoor file so this only represents ten percent.
Now, the real difficulty is that you dare not put them with anything that would mean that someone who recognises a given view could say, ‟he’s got that wrong: that’s xxx not zzz″. The obvious solution is to hit the delete key and get rid of them but . . .
The problem is that I just can’t bring myself to do that as some of them are rather nice and moody and, though I shouldn’t say it, beautiful. As always, it was Marcia who came up with the right answer – put them up on one of your blogs or on your photo site and just call them ‛Dartmoor’. So I will. Here are a few to be going on with.
Before anyone shouts: the bottom one is Vixen Tor, If anyone can put a location on any of the others, please do so. Incidentally, you may like to know that we have a saying in this house. Well, two sayings, as they differ depending on who is speaking. They are: ‟You know best but I am always right″ and ‟I know best but you are always right″. I will leave it to you to decide who says what.
THE TADPOLE TIMES
It was a mistake to start this. All that is happened since last week is that they have grown – a bit. All bar one little fellow who remains tiny. This I cannot explain: you would think that the big chaps would have eaten him long ago or else that he would have got bigger. Neither has happened. It is unusual to be able to identify one tadpole out of the cloud so I am beginning to take a particular interest in this one but I suspect it will end in tears. What are the odds that nest time I change the water he will have gone?