Anyway, two years ago I drove by a roadsign that warned for airplanes, by a coincidence. It stood there right along a road with fields on both sides. Airplanes passes by here, but where is that airfield? On a closer look I saw that I stood by one of the ends of the airstrip. I’d better duck if an airplane was to take off, but I saw none, not even a parked one. Just a very well-mown grass field. Via a small road to a farm, which I first thought was private, I eventually found the well hidden hangar. It stood by a few trees and it was not that obvious what type of building it was. To me, hangars have semi-cylindrical shaped roofs, this rather looked like a regular building. Except for the front doors, that said.

This was two years ago. I never saw any of the airplanes that probably had their home out there on the field. Since then, the town has moved closer and it’s been closed down and abandoned. A new road cuts the airstrip right on the middle. Still, the piece of the strip on the hangar side of the new road looks like being mown, whoever that might be doing it. The hangar has been partly de-constructed, and the previously so pretty windsock is now ripped apart by the wind. It’s like it still stands there as a monument. The cones that the pilots used for markings along the strip have been tossed under a tree. The fuel pump is no longer there, and the garden furniture that stood so you could sit down and look out on the airstrip, these are gone, too. I think this will be a missed part of Lund, for the people who spent their weekends there, maintaining and exercising their airplanes. I wonder where they flew?

Now, when I have been writing myself midway through this post, I realise I’ve entitled it nearly as one of my favourite photographer’s web site is called, While Standing Still. Her images have inspired me to explore colours again, although the images in this post are in b&w. Let’s see what will come out of that, and back to this post and the images.

I took them last week, an early morning while it was very foggy. I knew about this windmill and thought it would be perfect to shoot it in this light, so off I went. The time has indefinitely stopped ticking for it. It costs of course a fortune to maintain such an old mill like this. This one has probably been out of function at least the late 75 years, perhaps more than a hundreds, so the economical rationales to keep it standing are about….none. While people probably would be willing to pay 10 millions (divide by 7 to get a figure in US Dollars) for a house with a picturesque mill on the property, right here in Lund, this one is located a few kilometres outside, far too long away to attract those who have that kind of money. So, the decay is inevitable. It will only stand a few more years, as it looked like now. Large parts of it had already fallen down to ground and started to become one with Mother Earth. As life in the large, I guess.

These images are from the outskirts of East Lund, where I live, along the route I have started to take when running. The area is not new to me, but definitely unexplored, and usually, when running, I always spot images that I would like to make but can’t because I wear no camera… This time I decided to make a walk along the same route and bring my camera with me. It was cold and windy, and the latter made the snow on the fields smooth as if it had been sanded with a fine grained sandpaper. My black and white heart just melted.

I caught this view the other day,  but I have passed it many times and every time with the wrong lens mounted. This time I had the right lens, so I was happy to be able to photograph the view with this amount of detail. What on earth is going on behind those windows…? Makes me think of the Moomin characters, which almost none but Scandinavians knows who they are… I’m thinking of hattifnattar, to be specific, which makes even fewer understand now, since that’s what they are called in Swedish. Well well, for all you not fancying Finnish stories, the image per se shows lots of details from a typical house in the centre of Lund.

Ögonlock som tyngs
Tårar och snöblandat regn
En vit regnbåge

Some images from yesterday and today (my darker ones went into Flickr, to keep the blog a bit warmer and more cosy ):

I was out shooting for a few hours and that was bloody marvellous too, like balm for the soul. The afterwork in the evening, with Photoshop and a glass of wine couldn’t have felt much better. There were several pictures that made it into my Flickr photostream, but I think I liked this one best. I used my Lensbaby lens all day and tried to just enjoy the lovely light and colours. The Lensbaby can be really awkward sometimes, drawing the light like you were travelling in warp speed heading for another solar system. You have to be gentle on your hand and not turn the lens too much, sidewise. I placed the sweet spot for focus at the white building, which by the way is the University main building. The woman walking her dog just got that unfocused that I dream about to get it but ever so often just would see disappear in the backsweeps after a Warp speed ride.

I just love my painterly Lensbaby, and I just loved this Saturday.

This week, I finally got my self out for one of those combined lunch and photography breaks I used to make. On my way to the centre of the town, I passed several trees that were about to get cut. The town gardeners seemed to have mobilized all cranes in the area for the task. The three grand trees on the pictures below belong to those who have become part of the town’s silhouette. Standing on a non-developed lot, they have been able to grow as they want; and it seems they wanted to have a view on what goes on outside the lot, lending heavily over the street.

A non-developed lot! How extraordinary that sounds, considering this is one of the prime locations, right beside the cathedral, which you see in the background on the lower picture. I believe they are about to project something for that spot and that’s why they cut the trees. But, you should know the lot has looked like this as long as I have been living here in Lund, and that’s a mere 20 years. About time. I’m sorry for the trees, though.

A looong crane was needed to reach the branches from the backside of the lot

These are the same trees, but seen from the street