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  • Surprisingly, with the beautiful Telford’s Suspension Bridge carrying dozens of morning commuters’ vehicles ever minute, there was a peaceful serenity down here at the waters edge. I stood on the gritty shoreline and watched as the calm water silently rose up my boots towards my ankles, visible, discernible a creeping cleansing of everything in its path. <br />
<br />
Oystercatchers called from a nearby drowning mud flat after being disturbed from their slumber in the warm morning sunshine.  I could hear the sound of the tide as it surged past the huge arches stood steadfast in the Menai Strait. <br />
<br />
Intermittent puffs of smoke rose from the old waterside cottage, its timber panels faintly creaking as they warmed.  No one appeared at the windows and no one could be seen walking the bridge and even the dog walkers of the Belgian Prom seemed absent. There was a sense of tranquillity in this normally busy spot.<br />
Oystercatchers called from a nearby drowning mud flat after being disturbed from their slumber in the warm morning sunshine.  I could hear the sound of the tide as it surged past the huge arches stood steadfast in the Menai Strait. <br />
<br />
Intermittent puffs of smoke rose from the old waterside cottage, its timber panels faintly creaking as they warmed.  No one appeared at the windows and no one could be seen walking the bridge and even the dog walkers of the Belgian Prom seemed absent. There was a sense of tranquillity in this normally busy spot.
    GD002146.jpg
  • The pretty coastal centre of the fishing, now tourist village of Moelfre, East Anglesey at dusk.
    GD000470.jpg
  • Thick morning fog envelops the Menai Suspension Bridge (Welsh: Pont Grog y Borth) which is a stone built Victorian suspension bridge between the island of Anglesey and Bangor and mainland of Wales. The 100ft high bridge was designed by Thomas Telford and completed in 1826.
    GD000037(4).jpg
  • Mirror like lake surface at sunset at Llyn Alaw in North Anglesey.
    GD000059.jpg
  • Intense golden sunset with numerous cclouds and crepuscular rays over a gently rippled calm Irish Sea at Trearddur Bay, Holy Island, Anglesey
    GD000681.jpg
  • The 13th Century, Anglican, Eglwys Cwyfan (St Cwyfan's Church), not far from the small village of Aberffraw on Anglesey's West coast, at one time stood on the mainland coast but over the years, the sea has eroded the surrounding land leaving it stranded on it's own little island. Services are still occasionally held here but times are tide dependent.
    GD000815.jpg
  • Thick morning fog envelops the Menai Suspension Bridge (Welsh: Pont Grog y Borth) which is a stone built Victorian suspension bridge between the island of Anglesey and Bangor and mainland of Wales. The 100ft high bridge was designed by Thomas Telford and completed in 1826.
    GD000038-(1).jpg
  • GD001768.jpg
  • A dense reed bed behind the beach at Llugwy, East Anglesey, at dusk
    GD000058.jpg
  • Mirror-like reflections of the blue sky and clouds across the Menai Strait towards Foel on Anglesey from Caernarfon on the North coast of mainland Wales.
    GD001525.jpg
  • Sunset over crystal clear rock pool in low cliffs near Rhosneigr, Anglesey, Wales
    GD000700.jpg
  • Night time fog swirls in from the Irish Sea and up the Menai Strait, enveloping the Menai Suspension Bridge (Welsh: Pont Grog y Borth) which is a stone built Victorian suspension bridge between the island of Anglesey and Bangor and mainland of Wales. The 100ft high bridge was designed by Thomas Telford and completed in 1826.
    GD001753.jpg
  • An outcrop of headland just onto the North end of the vast sandy Aberffraw beach. The sunset reflects off large tidal pools left on the main beach. The mountains of the Llyn Peninsula can just be made out on the horizon.
    GD000535.jpg
  • The 13th Century, Anglican, Eglwys Cwyfan (St Cwyfan's Church), not far from the small village of Aberffraw on Anglesey's West coast, at one time stood on the mainland coast but over the years, the sea has eroded the surrounding land leaving it stranded on it's own little island. Services are still occasionally held here but times are tide dependent.
    GD000814.jpg
  • Large Cumulus clouds in afternoon sunlight reflect in the mirror calm waters of Llyn y Cwn lake on the sunlit col between Glyder Fawr an Y Garn, Snowdonia, North Wales
    GD000829.jpg
  • An eary morning mist over the tidal Menai Strait, shrouding the idyllic church and graveyard of St Tysilio Island, Anglesey. Menai Suspension Bridge (Welsh: Pont Grog y Borth) is a stone built Victorian suspension bridge between the island of Anglesey and Bangor and mainland of Wales. The 100ft high bridge was designed by Thomas Telford and completed in 1826. It stands proud of the small church island
    GD001752.jpg
  • Menai Suspension Bridge (Welsh: Pont Grog y Borth) is a stone built Victorian suspension bridge between the island of Anglesey and Bangor and mainland of Wales. The 100ft high bridge was designed by Thomas Telford and completed in 1826.
    GD000047.jpg
  • Thick morning fog envelops the Menai Suspension Bridge (Welsh: Pont Grog y Borth) which is a stone built Victorian suspension bridge between the island of Anglesey and Bangor and mainland of Wales. The 100ft high bridge was designed by Thomas Telford and completed in 1826.
    GD000039-(2).jpg
  • Thick morning fog envelops the Menai Suspension Bridge (Welsh: Pont Grog y Borth) which is a stone built Victorian suspension bridge between the island of Anglesey and Bangor and mainland of Wales. The 100ft high bridge was designed by Thomas Telford and completed in 1826.
    GD000040(3).jpg
  • GD000593.jpg
  • A new moon rises high in the sky as a lone pink cloud floats towards the darkening peaks of the Llyn mountains. I was totally alone, not a soul around, just as I like it and it made the wondrous happenings seem all the more magic to me. I’m always amazed that being so alone can bring such peace and happiness.
    GD002103.jpg
  • I have to be honest, I normally steer well clear of Trearddur, normally populated by hundreds of beachgoers, jet-skis, power boats, 4x4s on the sand, boat trailers and sailing dinghies. The small bay is surrounded on all sides by a hotchpotch of architecture, some interesting, some ghastly, but either way is not a place of peace, tranquility and natural landscape that I normally seek for my imagery.  <br />
<br />
However, during this lockdown I was able to witness a little bit of history, for even on this beautiful blue-sky day there were only a dozen people on the whole beach, and most kept close to the promenade. For the short period of time I was there, looking to create new images for a loyal customer, I had a small sense of how lovely the bay itself actually is, without the crowds. Long foamy pulses of Irish Sea waves pushed themselves up the broad sandy shore, licking their way around the stumps of petrified forest that I'd never seen before and never knew existed.<br />
<br />
 In the distance a dog walker wandered into the burning light and the call of oystercatchers could be heard over the sound of the waves. The virgin sand was mostly unspoiled by footprints and if it were not for the urban skyline I could have imagined myself on an ancient beach, nothing more than a stretch of coastline where the beautiful predictability of high & low tide were all that mattered in the world.
    GD002607.jpg
  • Silent Alleys, Mdina, Malta
    GD000666.jpg
  • GD000605.jpg
  • A crystal clear, calm lake, Llyn Cwm Bychan,  sits beneath the Rhinogydd hills, from where the Roman Steps lead up over a col, and down into the valleys beyond. It is thought however that the 'Roman' steps may be more of a Drover's Path than Roman thoroughfare?
    GD001470.jpg
  • It is hard to get a good angle on both these impressive buildings, especially in the right light, but this evening everything just seemed to fall into place. The warm dead bracken compliments the colours of this beautiful but now disused historic dovecot. With an original wishing well just up a footpath, this place is steeped in history.
    GD000378.jpg
  • Life grows in the graveyard at Aberdaron. The graves all face out to the Irish Sea, the prevailing winds and the sunsets. If spirits really do exist, than I can think of no finer place to rest, a harbour where many pilgrims have rested on their way to the final destination, the small Celtic Island of Ynys Enlli.
    GD001134.jpg
  • Dinas Dinlle is a vast beach beyond Caernarfon Airport. As the tide retreats it leaves a huge inviting expanse of sand, to be enjoyed by everyone and everything from walkers to oystercatchers, until the tide once again makes its long journey back towards the cliffs.
    GD000444.jpg
  • In an almost deserted town, Teguise in Northern Lanzarote, it was the urban equivalent of the Mary Celeste, empty streets, shops with no one about, seats with no one on them and no sound of traffic. To me it was surreal but perfect. I loved the silence and the cool peaceful shade from the burning heat. Across the whole town little white flag bunting fluttered in the strong Canarian breeze.
    GD002058.jpg
  • I was under the weather. It was 7.30 in the morning and I was out in my van, driving on impulse and letting the will take me to wherever. <br />
<br />
I very rarely go near Llanberis these days even though I used to spend so much time climbing in the quarries. I could almost hear the clipping of karabiners as I basked in the healing warming sunshine. It was so peaceful. Wisps of cloud hung at the valley head and the morning light created a regression of tones from foreground to background, silloueting Dolbadarn Castle, a true castle of the Welsh princes. <br />
<br />
As a child Llanberis was a magical place, and the departure point for several walks up Snowdon with my Dad. The steam trains were always a gripping fascination, their historical looking enginesbelching steam as they prepared fpr the chug up the steep railway to Snowdon’s summit. <br />
<br />
Here today though, alone and thinkimg about my parents, and age, and my pwn past, Llanberis was as beautiful as ever, but so much of my vision was memories of what once was.
    GD002181.jpg
  • The morning sunshine burned through the cool March air and for a moment it appeared as if summer. <br />
<br />
Nestling into the back of this peaceful cove are the Victorian silica brickworks of Porth Wen. Today the silence was only broken by the call of Oystercatcher and the twitter of sparrows in the hedges behind me,  so different to the noise of the industry here before 1949. I’m always fascinated by the way nature gradually reclaims man’s footprints, but in the meantime I enjoy a glimpse at history, and the chance to imagine what once was.
    GD002534.jpg
  • Full of cold, I nevertheless found myself on the summit of Carnedd Llewelyn in the heart of Snowdonia. The sun was out and burned warm on my face. There was hardly a puff of wind to blow the few soft pillow-like clouds in the blue sky above. <br />
<br />
It was peaceful and quiet, save for the sound of my boots crunching into the thick snowdrifts that dotted the mountain tops.
    GD002175.jpg
  • The most incredible sunset over the industrial relics of the Dinorwic slate quarries in Snowdonia. It was so peaceful up there, absolute silence as I studied the clouds gently mutating in the rich sunset over Yr Wyddfa, Wales’ highest mountain.
    GD002441.jpg
  • Peaceful evening at Llyn Alaw as the sun sets over this tranquil lake
    GD000460.jpg
  • Things will change after this weekend. the strange peace and quiet we’ve been enjoying, one of very few positives from this lockdown, will soon end. There has been an absence of noise; an absence of traffic jams; an absence of machines, from powerboats & jet-skis to cars & trail bikes. There has been a blissful near-absence of human activity and noticeably less litter in nature. From Monday however, when everyone in the UK can move around Wales again, this calm, this peace, this relatively unspoiled beauty will change dramatically. It’s been a gentle period that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I will always remember seeing & hearing nature without human figures everywhere. I think we’ve had a glimpse at a time long past, when things were simpler and quieter & for some, more meditative. I do wish this peace would never change, but as I head for a holiday again I also recognise that it’s nothing more than a passing dream.
    GD002497.jpg
  • I have to be honest, I normally steer well clear of Trearddur, normally populated by hundreds of beachgoers, jet-skis, power boats, 4x4s on the sand, boat trailers and sailing dinghies. The small bay is surrounded on all sides by a hotchpotch of architecture, some interesting, some ghastly, but either way is not a place of peace, tranquility and natural landscape that I normally seek for my imagery.<br />
.<br />
However, during this lockdown I was able to witness a little bit of history, for even on this beautiful blue-sky day there were only a dozen people on the whole beach, and most kept close to the promenade. For the short period of time I was there, looking to create new images for a loyal customer, I had a small sense of how lovely the bay itself actually is, without the crowds. Long foamy pulses of Irish Sea waves pushed themselves up the broad sandy shore, licking their way around the stumps of petrified forest that I'd never seen before and never knew existed.<br />
.<br />
In the distance a dog walker wandered into the burning light and the call of oystercatchers could be heard over the sound of the waves. The virgin sand was mostly unspoiled by footprints and if it were not for the urban skyline I could have imagined myself on an ancient beach, nothing more than a stretch of coastline where the beautiful predictability of high & low tide were all that mattered in the world.
    GD002608.jpg
  • I have to be honest, I normally steer well clear of Trearddur, normally populated by hundreds of beachgoers, jet-skis, power boats, 4x4s on the sand, boat trailers and sailing dinghies. The small bay is surrounded on all sides by a hotchpotch of architecture, some interesting, some ghastly, but either way is not a place of peace, tranquility and natural landscape that I normally seek for my imagery.<br />
.<br />
However, during this lockdown I was able to witness a little bit of history, for even on this beautiful blue-sky day there were only a dozen people on the whole beach, and most kept close to the promenade. For the short period of time I was there, looking to create new images for a loyal customer, I had a small sense of how lovely the bay itself actually is, without the crowds. Long foamy pulses of Irish Sea waves pushed themselves up the broad sandy shore, licking their way around the stumps of petrified forest that I'd never seen before and never knew existed.<br />
.<br />
In the distance a dog walker wandered into the burning light and the call of oystercatchers could be heard over the sound of the waves. The virgin sand was mostly unspoiled by footprints and if it were not for the urban skyline I could have imagined myself on an ancient beach, nothing more than a stretch of coastline where the beautiful predictability of high & low tide were all that mattered in the world.
    GD002609.jpg
  • A pandemic-induced re-wilding, at least in terms of peace, tranquility and a lushening landscape. Footpaths have healed and the sounds of nature were now more audible than the usual screaming of motorbikes racing up the pass.  This landscape is heavily influenced by man of course, but a vivid new sense of nature pervades the whole atmosphere of the place now.
    GD002610.jpg
  • I was the last on the hill, and the sun disappeared behind a huge bank of cloud, dulling the light completely. I watched a snowboarder carve his way down the soft snowy hillside away from me, quietly feeling the isolation, when a gentle hint of colour appeared over Snowdon. I stood for a few minutes, now completely alone, and then the light intensified and the whole landscape was bathed in the most glorious colours. The summit of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) appeared after two hours of waiting, so I trudged back up through thick snow to the summit of my own little hill and became quite ecstatic about everything that was happening. I was smiling from ear to ear, not even knowing where to look as it was all so beautiful, and then tears started rolling down my cheeks and I began to cry! I believe it was both the spiritual and mental joy of the situation but also an intense feeling of peace and freedom that many of us deeply crave to keep our sanity.
    GD002583.jpg
  • It was a surreal surprise to find a ram’s skull staring at us from the apex of a derelict tin mining power house. This area is littered with the remains of an historical tin mining industry; exploration shafts now just lush grass-covered conical depressions in the wet moorland. Once a noisy hive of activity and ore crushing, but now just the sounds of the wind through gaps in the walls. Likewise the bleating of sheep still echo across the open landscape, but this poor soul has long past, the bone bleached and dripping with hill fog. It’s strange but there is such peace now on the moors and even the saturating low cloud creates a sense of calm not panic, silence not noise. I felt a deep connection with history and the spirit of the place. Dartmoor is minimal and mesmerising.
    GD002324.jpg
  • Small patches of nature even in a busy urban environment. My favourite bird, the Blackbird, was rustling around in the dry leaves inthe dark shadows, forraging for food. Warm morning sunshine heated the roof tiles and was a welcome relief to the chilly Northerly breeze.  Iwonder how long it would take for a city to look quite overgrown should people disappear and peace returns to the earth?
    GD002188.jpg
  • Sometimes the world is just too hot, and in the heat there is an urgent need for shade, for ease, for peace, for sanctuary. I find myself in need of more shade these days, but there is now less available than ever. We are destroying ourselves and I find myself fading.
    A Need For Sanctuary
  • Life seems like an eternal struggle, our sense of peace and security is nothing more than a fragile veneer that can be shattered by others in an instant. I am always looking for the light beyond the darkness but sometimes the darkness is so pervasive, so heavy, that even the eternal light struggles to shine through. What I have discovered recently is that the most important light is not on the horizon but comes from within my partner. Even on my darkest days and at the scariest moments her light is bright, and she finds my love as bright. That deep compassion to be there for someone else, that sense of togetherness and working as a team against all odds, is truly a light in the dark, and helps us both to find the horizon.
    From Within
  • Nominated for 11th International B&W Spider Awards<br />
<br />
Shot on Llanddwyn beach as everyone else was leaving - well it was a bitter cold evening, no sunset, no 'obvious' excitement, but I was utterly connected that evening. In the darkness and solitude I became one with the peace, the dusk, the gentleset lapping sounds at the shore, the occassional oystercatcher calling as it skimmed the sea. I photographed gentle events...© Glyn Davies 2012  All rights reserved. No copying or use on any website is either permitted or implied. Action WILL be taken against infringers.
    GD001395.jpg
  • I’ve seen an increasing number of people, understandably reclaiming open beaches on the island. Months & months of lockdowns is destroying peoples minds so they are daring to drive a handful of miles to get to open space, to the beach for a lungful of fresh sea air and safe mental balance.<br />
.<br />
For too long this draconian, illogical & bad-science ‘local’ travel ban, has been hurting people. We are not prisoners. Most people I know are intelligent, educated and really care about keeping others safe, but walking on a local beach or hillside will categorically not spread a virus or hurt others. The virus has been spread most rapidly and obviously through the mixing of friends & families in their homes, and also by colleagues in close workplaces, NOT from the beach. <br />
.<br />
I fear that the long term effect of such ill-considered local travel bans will have created long term psychological damage for many people in society, especially for those who live for the outdoors & nature, who have chosen to spend their lives in often economically deprived areas for one reason only, to be closer to the great outdoors because they need it for their health and their peace of mind.
    GD002599.jpg
  • I was the last on the hill, and the sun disappeared behind a huge bank of cloud, dulling the light completely. I watched a snowboarder carve his way down the soft snowy hillside away from me, quietly feeling the isolation, when a gentle hint of colour appeared over Snowdon. I stood for a few minutes, now completely alone, and then the light intensified and the whole landscape was bathed in the most glorious colours. The summit of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) appeared after two hours of waiting, so I trudged back up through thick snow to the summit of my own little hill and became quite ecstatic about everything that was happening. I was smiling from ear to ear, not even knowing where to look as it was all so beautiful, and then tears started rolling down my cheeks and I began to cry! I believe it was both the spiritual and mental joy of the situation but also an intense feeling of peace and freedom that many of us deeply crave to keep our sanity.
    GD002584.jpg
  • Shot on Llanddwyn beach as everyone else was leaving - well it was a bitter cold evening, no sunset, no 'obvious' excitement, but I was utterly connected that evening. In the darkness and solitude I became one with the peace, the dusk, the gentleset lapping sounds at the shore, the occassional oystercatcher calling as it skimmed the sea. I photographed gentle events.
    GD001397.jpg
  • Alone on a deserted beach - paradise. Thank God there still remain places here on this small Isle of Anglesey where you can escape the crowds and be at peace. The tide was dropping, sucking water out of the sand bar and with it the light reflections. A central core of light pulled me into the water, into the deep and into happiness.
    GD000948.jpg
  • I was the last on the hill, and the sun disappeared behind a huge bank of cloud, dulling the light completely. I watched a snowboarder carve his way down the soft snowy hillside away from me, quietly feeling the isolation, when a gentle hint of colour appeared over Snowdon. I stood for a few minutes, now completely alone, and then the light intensified and the whole landscape was bathed in the most glorious colours. The summit of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) appeared after two hours of waiting, so I trudged back up through thick snow to the summit of my own little hill and became quite ecstatic about everything that was happening. I was smiling from ear to ear, not even knowing where to look as it was all so beautiful, and then tears started rolling down my cheeks and I began to cry! I believe it was both the spiritual and mental joy of the situation but also an intense feeling of peace and freedom that many of us deeply crave to keep our sanity.
    GD002582.jpg
  • Shot on Llanddwyn beach as everyone else was leaving - well it was a bitter cold evening, no sunset, no 'obvious' excitement, but I was utterly connected that evening. In the darkness and solitude I became one with the peace, the dusk, the gentleset lapping sounds at the shore, the occassional oystercatcher calling as it skimmed the sea. I photographed gentle events.
    GD001396.jpg
  • The first bitterly cold day on Anglesey this October, yet the sun burned gold and the sky and water reflected the warm hues. Determined dog walkers paced the beach but on the outgoing tide much of the shoreline remained relatively undisturbed, enable the waders to feed in peace and seagulls to rest their wings.
    GD002221.jpg
  • Once the refuge for renegade tribes, this harsh, jagged-rock landscape is now a place of peace and isolation. The fierce winds whistle and howl their way around the towers of this natural stone fortress, but apart from the occasional call of the Raven, or the drifting chat of the occasional hill walker, this place is more remote than ever, perhaps a days walk from the nearest habitation.<br />
<br />
With the wind blowing her hair, and deliberate careful footsteps, she softly, silently padded up the rough rock pinnacle, as a lioness would, to survey her territory from the highest point in the area. History flooded around her.
    The Fortress
  • In an old woodland deep in the heart of ancient Britain, a young couple lie together upon deep, lush moss, under a delicate winter canopy of spindly trees. The air is cold and the sunlight weak, but in it’s low rays the lovers hold each other close, sharing body warmth through intimate touch. As they make the closest connection possible in this magical, enchanted forest, silently observed by the spirits of people and community gone by, they don’t feel the cold, only life, love and peace.
    Enchanted
  • Rhuddlan and it's castle have been the site of numerous Welsh English battles in history. The castle was originally mostly built of wood and ships used to moor alongside the jetty. Today, a Royal swan peacefully glides amongst the shadows of the castle's trees and a huge driftwood log is the only wooden movement along this shallow river today.
    GD000486.jpg
  • Pedny, as the beach natives call it, a phenomenally striking beach with white sands, granite cliffs and crystal clear waters, facing across the Atlantic down to the Antarctic! Only accessible at very low tide or by scrambling down a steep footpath and rocks to the beach itself. For years thankfully the sole domain of hardy naturists and keen rock climbers (not necessarily both, though I did tick that box!) but now due to exhaustive use of it's location in tourist advertising, is quietly losing it's magic, with teams of neoprene clad families with body boards, tents, wind-breaks and picnic boxes braving the descent to textile cover the once free beach. Fortunately, at high tide the beach really does get cut off by the huge Atlantic ocean, and this forces away most of the crowds leaving small patches of bare beauty, and peace and quiet once again, save for the few who know the secret escape routes
    GD001270.jpg
  • Tonight I was accompanied by a daft crow. As I walked at high speed to catch an unexpected last burn of sunshine at Llanddwyn, a large crow on the water’s edge thought that the best way to escape his human companion was to keep flying just ahead of me. As I got closer he’d take off and fly another 20 feet. He did this almost the whole length of the beach until I reached the island, when finally he worked out that flying the opposite way from me meany he was left in peace. I I found myself chuckling as I called him a daft bird under my breath. <br />
<br />
The light on the other side of the island was short lived but intensely beautiful.
    GD002531.jpg
  • Nominated for 11th International B&W Spider Awards<br />
<br />
This is the sixth of six images within my short 'Genesis' series from my "Landscape Figures" project and exhibition. After the loving connection of "And then there was light" this image was the after effect, the feeling utterly connected to everything, at one with the landscape and at peace with the world. <br />
<br />
In current times we are seeing an explosion of population and an unsustainable demand for the Earth’s resources. We are in an era when self-interest, greed, power, conflict and indifference rule over tolerance, compassion and love. By now as a species, we should be living in harmony with others and our planet. I often ponder upon why we never really learn, and whether anything would be any different if mankind had the chance to start all over again.<br />
<br />
This small set of images is just an imaginary glimpse of two ordinary people, a man and a woman, both naked as the day they were born, finding love and happiness together on a planet budding with new life. This story doesn’t have a sting in the tail. This story begins and will end with harmony between people and their environment. It is just a little gasp of hope within the current darkness.
    Life Connected
  • Lost in a dark and very ancient valley, a man gives up hope, wandering barefoot and directionless. He leans back against a tree, his head in his hands and he doesn’t see the trunk bend to accommodate him, to ease the pain, to cradle him. He doesn’t see the hawk like face in the stone of the stream behind him, opening her eyes, aware that another creature had spiritually connected. The dark hills crowd around but he doesn’t realise that they are buffering the cold wind. The grass is short and soft and he is hardly aware of the warm carpet it has provided. He remains curled as the gurgle of trickling water in the brook pacifies him. A blackbird sings a melody in nearby woodland before a silent dark blanket gently pulls overhead. By dusk he finds peace and a sense of direction. He stands up, walks tall and purposefully and is suddenly acutely aware that he’s been comforted by nature, at one with the earth and in his natural element.
    Comforted by Nature
  • I looked around because I could hear people talking but there was no one there. I moved across the beach shooting a couple of frames of the boulders and the voices were getting louder. I was expecting to see a small group of people appearing in the valley at any moment to ruin my peace.<br />
<br />
The people never did appear, not because they had diverted or turned back, but because they never existed. As I drew closer to the left hand side of the beach the talkers revealed themselves. A fast flowing stream was carving it's way down the beach and some small boulders were caught in a white water trap, endlessly rolling round and round, air trapping, gurgling currents holding the stones in deep flowing conversation.
    GD000919.jpg
  • "......The sea had now covered much more of the beach, and some previously isolated colourful boulders were now being licked by the gentle ripples. I looked around because I could hear people talking but there was no one there. I moved across the beach shooting a couple of frames of the boulders and the voices were getting louder. I was expecting to see a small group of people appearing in the valley at any moment to ruin my peace....."
    GD000920.jpg
  • Shot on Llanddwyn beach as everyone else was leaving - well it was a bitter cold evening, no sunset, no 'obvious' excitement, but I was utterly connected that evening. In the darkness and solitude I became one with the peace, the dusk, the gentleset lapping sounds at the shore, the occassional oystercatcher calling as it skimmed the sea. I photographed gentle events.<br />
<br />
© Glyn Davies 2012  All rights reserved. No copying or use on any website is either permitted or implied. Action WILL be taken against infringers.
    GD001398.jpg
  • Even as I stood under my huge brolly, with the rain lashing at my back, the wind eddied rain drops onto my lens regardless. This is one of the most popular bucket & spade beaches on Ynys Môn hence my usually giving it an extremely wide berth, but today, even without continued lockdown, the rain kept most people away. I actually loved the view; I loved the minimalist simplicity of it all; the vast stretch of water, the ship in the distance waiting for pilotage to Liverpool; the gusts of wind ruffling the surface of the Irish Sea, and the misty distant island headlands. For the first time in years, I felt connected to this beach, a place I could relate to and allow my mind to wander in. In the silent downpour I felt peace.
    GD002495.jpg
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