The Changing Landscape

Whenever I get lucky enough to fly into a foreign land, I hope to see the landscape unfold through the plane window. I’ll crane my neck if necessary, around the head of a fellow passenger, known or unknown. I wonder how can you not want to see the colours of the country, the curves and lines, the density of populated areas? I remember flying over the Sahara, in total awe when a homestead was visible with nothing else for what seemed liked a hundred miles. I remember shrunken rainforest and the EastEnders bend in the Thames.

Last weeks flights were not as dramatic, but I still tried to capture what I could, yes I am that sad woman on a perpetual first time flight, with a camera pressed against the window. Here are some of the images from those flights.

Western Spain or perhaps eastern Portugal, in late September, it doesn’t look as if anything could grow there, but the rain will fall when it’s ready and the soil will spring to life.

What’s that coming over the hill, it is an ocean, the Atlantic?

Wait, I recognise this from my obsessive checking-out-the-destination-before-I-go habits, it’s the beginning of the long islands just off the Algarve coast.

Part of the Parque Natural da Ria Formosa, I’m nearly there!

Umm, as it’s my first visit to Portugal I don’t think I’ll hang around Faro above, too long.

Closer to home, there was a lot of cloud cover, with tempting peeps at the south west of England below, and there was a definite change in the landscape. As soon as we crossed the English Channel, I knew exactly where we were.

This is Paignton, a seaside town 25 miles from home, the pier is just visible.

This is the view that got me really excited, and led to me identifying Paignton and Silverton with my daughter’s help. It’s just outside Exeter on the dual carriageway heading west towards Torbay and Plymouth. The circular junction is one I like driving around, it makes you dizzy if you go fast enough – not that I’d break the speed limit of course! If you survive that one, another mile further and you reach the notorious Splatford Split, the place where the tourists get lost, confused and sometimes cause accidents when they realise they’re in the wrong lane.

I was gutted that the cloud cover hid the city centre completely and cleared 8 miles east over Silverton.

The long wide beach at Weston-Super-Mare, in north Somerset, it’s a kite paradise and although I’ve never seen it, on a clear day the Welsh coast is often visible.

This isn’t a very clear shot as far as landscape is concerned but I rather like the layers of sky, cloud and land.
So, this is my entry to this weeks photo challenge, the change I observed in the landscape, from one that was a fresh and lovely experience, to the landscape of my heart.