Don't Eat With Your Mouth Full

Where can we live but days?

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I took this last Monday in Romsey, by Sadler's Mill (near the Salmon Leap of my childhood, though sadly the salmon don't leap there any more). I think it captures something of the beauty of my home river, though not the startling swiftness of it. Limpid yes, limping no.

Test at Sadler's Mill
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Lovely! I wish I were dangling my feet in it.

Nine

I can't promise you a fish pedicure, but you may be kissed by minnows.

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I was already impressed by the tiger in your userpic! Presumably an obscure tributary of the Rhein?

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(no subject) - shewhomust, 2015-08-25 08:58 am (UTC)(Expand)
That is gorgeous!

Isn't it? I would walk there more days than not, when I was young.

(no subject) - steepholm, 2015-08-25 07:04 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - consonantia, 2015-08-25 05:48 pm (UTC)(Expand)
So beautiful.

It is. And you have to imagine the roar of the mill race, just upstream, lapsing into glass.

I think it captures something of the beauty of my home river, though not the startling swiftness of it.

It's beautiful. Is there waterweed showing the current under the surface? It looks like seaweed, streaming.

You're right. That's really the only clue as to the speed of it. Of course, when I was a small child I thought all rivers looked this way, which set me up for a future disappointment!

Oh, that's beautiful!

Yes, I love the spot.

My home river is so much bigger of course and there are ships! :o)

Once the Test gets to Southampton it's a different kettle of fish, naturally.

(no subject) - cmcmck, 2015-08-25 07:39 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - steepholm, 2015-08-25 07:43 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - cmcmck, 2015-08-25 07:46 am (UTC)(Expand)
Very pretty. And a nicely captured shot!

Thank you!


Yes, they are both chalk streams, which is what gives them their wonderful clarity and makes them the site of my wasabi dreams.

I tried to evoke the Test in Death of a Ghost:

Fifty miles inland she rose, a slip of light amidst the chalk and flint. Gargled by rock, she bobbed under the blown grass, hummed fat bees across her banks, ricocheted the dragonflies downstream and followed thirstily to the plain. At length she became a divider of fields, made way through rich harvests of oats and wheat. Sheep’s teeth nipped her shallows and cattle curved their tongues to reap crystal sheaves, while in her silted depths the slick trout threaded pennants of luminous weed. Then, tiring, she slowed and muddled through ill-assorted islets, reserving solid clufts of land to the use of coots and ducks, to the remote ghosts of swans. Sulis shifted comfortably on her pillow. This was Lychfont, her own country.


I think this captured the luminous weed, at least!

(no subject) - shewhomust, 2015-08-25 05:40 pm (UTC)(Expand)
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My own childhood river.

rush

Nine

Here's a stream I saw last week (apologies if you can't see it; steepholm should be able to): https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10205859618588821

Edited at 2015-08-26 03:32 am (UTC)

(no subject) - steepholm, 2015-08-26 05:21 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - steepholm, 2015-08-26 05:18 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - ethelmay, 2015-08-26 05:30 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - steepholm, 2015-08-26 05:52 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - ethelmay, 2015-08-26 04:12 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Very beautiful. I shall not counter with pictures of my childhood river, which is mainly famous for being so brown that everyone joked about it. Loads of bad Australian jokes, and it's actually beautiful in its silty self these days (cos of cleaning up) but it was a bit dank during my youth.

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