Nature's abstract sculpture

A most satisfying day.

Woke to the rain and a grey sky. The sunrise was hidden. The tide was unfriendly for seeing waders. I felt uninspired. So a leisurely start to the day. Followed by some mundane maintenance tasks, by which time son and his family had gone to the local town (Warkworth) to have lunch.

It was then that I chose to go for a run in the mistaken belief that the tide would be just right to entice waders et al back to the foreshore. However, mainly I was keen to try for a shot to meet blast's final challenge word for the year; abstract. So birds were a lesser priority for me.

I started by trying to produce an abstract image of a pohutukawa, by using the telephoto lens deliberately out of focus. I also looked at rocks, rock pools and algae; at rocks leading into the sea; at patterns in the sand. The last indicates my problem. I was drawn to images that did have a sort of pattern to them.

I continued along the beach, and back again, and found myself stalking a common tern. Got some nice pictures the best of which I am putting in my blipfolio of winged beasties.

Then I passed this. I'd missed it on the way south. Washed in by a storm some time past, this piece of nature's work encapsulates function, form and visual abstraction. Many of us will try to (or perhaps will automatically) see something in the piece. Yet it was formed in this way for no good reason other than that was how it developed .

This then is my response to the challenge.

Back at the beach house I had a tasty lunch of left overs, and then put on my hat and my gardening gloves. I had a very productive four hours in the garden in the sun (which by then had burned away the clouds), and got neither tired nor sore.

Daughter-in-law (Mrs Tsuken) ably assisted by tsuken himself, produced a dinner of home made pizzas to eat on the deck with a glass or two of Merlot (me) and Rose (S and J). The cooks were abstemious, to which I did not object. There was enough sun to keep us warm.

Work did not cross my mind until the instant of writing of this absence of such thinking. Two more weeks of this. I guess I'll cope.