Slow to wake up.

 

The pheasants are hiding in that mist.

Roll on November.

Sunrise on the dunghill

 

 This is the sun breaking through the cloud to illuminate a dunghill.

I like to add culture to my blog.

In this case, organic culture.

 

 

Pheasants

 

I saw some pheasants today, I see them everyday. They usually stand in the road and expect me to cycle around them. When I stay on the road they try to outrun me. At the last minute they take to the air, squawking in protest. They really are the stupidest of birds.

Mist on the Minnis.

The sun had not risen when I left the house. If you look carefully you can just see the crescent moon and the morning (?) star. Or is it the evening star seen in the morning? I am no good at astronomy.

 

 

 

By the time I reached the Minnis at Stelling the sun was just climbing but the mist was hanging in pockets.

 

 

 

I don't think that the cows in the mist were awake, not one of them turned their head as I passed.

Walking the Morghew Park Estate.

The public path crosses the front lawn of the house 





  



and on past the Dutch House

to the Wealden countryside beyond.

The Morghew Park Estate can trace its ancestry back over a thousand years. 


Read about it here.

Passport Portraits of Yesteryear no.46

Continuing the series of passport portraits in my collection.
Peruse and wonder.

The Port of New York on 31st July 1918 and British seaman Frederick Arthur Kennett wishes to disembark from his ship. This is his portrait on the US Seaman’s Identification Card which was required of all foreign seamen arriving in the USA during the Great War. The official opinion was, 

'...a large number of dangerous and undesirable aliens are using every effort to enter the country in the guise of seamen.... It is known that many such desert.'
  
Fred Kennett is seen here in the uniform of a chief petty officer in the Royal Navy. The Great War will be over in four months and Fred will exploit his experience to obtain a Master’s Certificate, sailing during the 1920s and 1930s from the British ports of Southampton, Bristol, Cardiff and Liverpool across the Atlantic Ocean to New York and Vera Cruz. In World War 2 he crosses the Atlantic in 1942 arriving in New York on 4th October and in 1946, at the age of fifty eight, he is in Miami.

Hold on, there's someone on the line...

How else would you cross such a busy (!) road?