Here’s the first post of a continuing series - hopefully. These are the photos I take around and about with no clear directive in mind. Like written notes, I think of them as visual notes.

The sun warms my face while shallow waves lap the shore. The bottle of cold beer I reach for is sweating small beads of condensation as it sits on a table under the dappled shade of a palm tree.

When I first started writing this a week ago, the rain was hammering down in vertical sheets filling the house with a dark and gloomy atmosphere. Looking out of the window today the sun is bright, the sky blue and I can see the snow capping the mountains just beyond. 

Pool, puddles and jumping. Here’s one of my favourite family photos. Looking at it again ten years later, I find myself on a thought journey about photography and creativity.

Memories can be slippery devils. They swim around my brain, waiting for a moment of capture, the moment when I need to reel one into my conscious mind to muse over.

In 2014 my husband and I went on a trip to Iceland. We were excited to have some time to ourselves while our two children aged 9 and 7 at the time, spent the weekend with family.

The other morning when I walked the trail, I ended up walking in the other direction. I tend to walk the same trail most days. It's easy, it's near my house and it's beautiful. To change things up a bit, I sometimes decide to walk starting from the other direction. It's strangely discombobulating.

In researching an old family photograph, Tanya discovers a story of emigration from the north of England to Port Adelaide in South Australia in 1853.

Many years ago, I was studying for a diploma in General Art and Design at an art school on the blustery, freezing-cold coast of North Norfolk. Part of our studies in, the first year, involved a module in photography.

Photographs from an old Kodak instamatic camera stir up memories and stories from the 1980s.

Your family photos are mini-portals in time pushing you forwards, backward and sideways in your mind.

Photographs from your family archive are a great way to access a memory or discover a story. To make the story feel real get right into all the details.