One Window, One Crane

May 

 

Living on the banks of the Havel River in Berlin certainly has its advantages. In my mind I know I live in the nation's capital and a major European hub, but my little corner of Spandau is so quaint and remote from the hustle and bustle of city life that it throws everybody off the first time they come over. Life is slower here, and the residents are as gentle as the open fields and the river. 

July

 

 

 

 

My desk faces the river, so I see the cats downstairs prowling around for an adventure or two. I listen to all the water fowl swim or fly by, and smile each time the rowers or sailors float past my building. 

 

August

 

 

 

The real treasure of my conservatory is not the warmth it preserves on cold and dreary days, but the precious view I am privileged to enjoy at sunrise and sunset. When I first moved in, the landlord said to me that he hoped the cement factory on the other side of the river wouldn't bother me too much. At the time I had no idea what he was referring to, but I found out soon enough. 

Still August 

 

 

 

At first, the crane bothered me to bits and drove me absolutely crazy, It seemed to ruin every composition I set out to photograph, and stuck out like a sore thumb. Then I realized that it is the perfect reminder that no manmade thing can ever overpower Nature. 

 

September 

 

 

 

 

I never know what I'm going to see at sunset, and it is impossible to predict the colors of the sky from one moment to the next. Spring was breathtaking with the crisp winter air, but summer was just as spectacular.

 

September Calling

 

 

 

Now that Autumn has turned around the corner, the changing air and gusty winds bring forth my beloved clouds that tell many a tale each time I look out the window.