theonlyD800inthehameau
Photography by theonlydeadheadinthehameau
Weathered
Posted on November 16, 2022
About a mile from our placee is a slowly rotting old house, irretrievably derelict. The roof has now collapsed, but most of the window frames are still just about intact.
Tree Rings
Posted on April 13, 2022
This log from my stash for the wood-burning stove had an intriguing pattern of rings if you looked at it closely enough.
In need of repair
Posted on August 22, 2020
This was the interior of our barn when we bought Brokedown Palace. Yes, that is a big hole in the roof in the middle of the image.
What were we thinking?
L is for Logs
Posted on November 15, 2019
If you have a wood-burning stove, then it’s getting to that time of year:
Wooden walkway, Burano
Posted on August 23, 2019
A covered wooden walkway on the island of Burano, in the Venetian lagoon.
Tuesdays of Texture: Fenceposts
Posted on July 25, 2017
Favouring the rustic look with these fenceposts at the Roman archaeological site of Cassinomagus:
Knot(hole)
Posted on July 14, 2017
This knothole can be found in an ancient wooden door up in the medieval citadel of the French town of Confolens.
Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Anything Made From Wood
52 Weeks Photo Challenge: Week 25 – Textures
Posted on January 30, 2017
Textures of wood, stone and metal on this disused well-head in the medieval centre of the town of Loches.
52 Weeks Photo Challenge: Week 52 – Textures
Tuesdays of Texture: Firepit
Posted on November 2, 2016
We’ve just spent a week in a holiday cottage in the still largely rural East Lothian region of Scotland. Although the weather wasn’t good enough (October? Scotland? I don’t think so) for us to use it, this firepit/barbecue area certainly offered a whole range of textures.
Tuesdays of Texture: Clogs
Posted on October 19, 2016
This image from the workshop of the local clogmaker in nearby Montrol-Sénard, a living museum of rural life, certainly displays some very interesting textures.
It resonates particularly for me, because what is now the entrance hall of our home was once the atelier of the local sabotier.
Although we have had it done up a bit:
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