I'm never sure whether this is a blog with photographs or a photoblog with commentary. Does "photoblog" even exist in the common lexicon anymore? Suffice to say I'm just a nobody, as much as anybody else is, with nothing to say, as much as anybody else does.
Should you wish to see more of my photowork, please follow the link in the sidebar. And if you happen to be intrigued by single malt whisky, take a peek at www.whiskydistilleries.blogspot.com...or not.

February 28, 2012

gilt by association

Fascinating, the power of the nose. How a smell can evoke arbitrary memories when the aroma was a subtle part of some past experience. It's like your iPod on shuffle - you never know where you're going to go.

I use the occasional piece of coal in my woodburning stove during the colder parts of our Canadian winter. As it burns with an even and gentle flame, the heat takes the chill from the air, the smell takes me back to Scotland. September.  A roaring coal fire pubside in Port Ellen's White Hart Hotel, scorching my back and burning away the shiver of an Islay night ravaged by the tail end of an Atlantic hurricane which stranded many on either side of the ferry link the island relies upon as part of its life's blood.

The memory is like gold, precious and permanent.

boats in the harbour, Port Ellen, Islay
boats in the harbour, Port Ellen, Islay, Scotland

window and wall in Port Ellen, Islay

window in Port Ellen, Islay, Scotland

the harbour lighthouse in Port Ellen, Islay

Carraig Fhada, the lighthouse in Port Ellen, Islay, Scotland

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