Photography in the fog

click photo to enlarge

When I lived in Hull and the weather was foggy I often heard the sound of the ships' foghorns as they negotiated the River Humber into the port or went out into the North Sea. Living on the Lancashire coast I heard them occasionally: there were fewer ships, fog was infrequent, and technology had advanced compared with when I lived near the east coast. Now that I'm in Lincolnshire I experience more fog than in either of the other locations but I recall hearing a ship's foghorn only once. I suppose I'm too far from the sea and ships in The Wash are relatively few, smaller, and fairly quiet.

In common with much of eastern England we've recently had a few days of mist and fog and I've made a point of going out with my camera to see what I could snap. As I've said elsewhere in this blog, fog is one of those weather conditions - like snow - that transforms a landscape and allows the photographer to make very different images in very familiar surroundings. Unfortunately inspiration seemed to have deserted me on my forays into the gloom and I came back with very little that satisfies me. The two shots I post today are the best of my meagre pickings.

Certainly, to my mind, they don't compare with some of my earlier efforts such as this jetty and yacht, this tree, this cottage or this Fenland "view". The smaller of today's offerings shows a new footbridge over a dyke on a footpath near Donington. The main image is the west end of Donington church. This marvellous piece of medieval architecture has a very interesting west doorway. It dates from the fourteenth century and, unusually for a village church, has a projecting hood with an ogee arch that protects the inner arch and door. Time and weather have eroded the sharp details of this feature, but the sculpted leaves and other mouldings can still be discerned under its current generous covering of moss.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Who eats the cabbages?

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In the Monty Python sketch set in a "greasy spoon cafe" every item on offer includes Spam. When reciting the menu the waitress notes the presence of the once ubiquitous industrial meat with a barely disguised relish. However, if you think that establishment's offerings are the depths of culinary monotony, spare a thought for the sheep in this Lincolnshire field: breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper consists of cabbage. And then, by way of a change, the next day they have...cabbage. Still, it's probably better than grass.

I pass this field fairly frequently in my car, and I've watched these sheep eat their way across it in sections that are divided off with a moveable electric fence. The field is quite a large one, and the part that was eaten first (in the background) has already been ploughed. I've discussed elsewhere the Lincolnshire custom of sheep being wintered on fields of vegetables that are either the cropped leafy remains, or those that are unsold. Being brought up in the sheep country of the Yorkshire Dales, I initially found it odd to see the animals on anything other than grass, but I've got used to it by now. However, there is one thing that puzzles me, and seeing these sheep eating what appear to be perfectly good cabbages, set me thinking about it again. The puzzle is this: who eats all the cabbages that I see growing in Lincolnshire? I know that people of my generation eat cabbage (in all its varieties) as a cooked vegetable. I even grow some. But what about younger people? Just about the only cabbage I see them eating comes in the form of cole slaw. A couple of years ago, when speaking to a farmer, I learned that the big, round, football-like cabbages in the field next to us were for that product. I do still see cabbage offered on some restaurant menus, but it has definitely moved from being a staple of the English diet to something of an unwanted relic.  However, the acres of Savoys, pointed varieties and others that I see must be being eaten by someone. But who, and when, and where? It's a puzzle.

When it comes to photography sheep are exceedingly unco-operative creatures. I knew that when I got out of my car with the camera at the ready those nearby would flee, presenting me with a shot of rear ends. So it proved, but then curiosity got the better of them and they stopped and turned to look at me. I wondered what they thought as I snapped away, and I wondered too what the drivers of the passing vehicles thought when they saw me snapping this unpromising subject!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 168mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 500
Exposure Compensation: -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Taking the same photograph again No. 2

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If you repeatedly walk the same routes you come upon the same photographic subjects time and again. For some photographers that is a problem to be overcome by regular travel, either locally, nationally or in distant lands. Now I enjoy travel as much as the  next person, but not for its own sake, and not solely for the purposes of photography. For me travel has to offer something wider than servicing just one of my interests. And, as I've said on more than one occasion in this blog, I enjoy unearthing new photographs in familiar places and making photographs that are variations on those that I've taken before. So, a familiar walk in the area where I live is just as likely to provide me with a photographic opportunity as is a trip to the other end of the country or to an entirely different country.

The other day I had a morning walk alone, then another walk in the afternoon with my wife. On that second outing we travelled along a track that gives a fine, distant view of Donington church. Exactly one year ago yesterday I walked the same path and took a photograph with similarities to that which I post today. The earlier photograph is from a slightly different point, has a clearer sky, and was at a time when more snow covered the ground. But, the composition is essentially the same: the principal interest resides in the horizon, the trees and the bodkin-like spire of St Mary and The Holy Rood piercing the sky, with subsidiary features being the near field, the huddle of houses and the sky. What I find interesting is how different the two photographs are in feel and colour. Each has qualities that I like - the hard, cold clarity of the earlier shot and the blue/orange complementary colours of the recent one, to name but two.

I've walked the path from which the two images were taken several times during the course of the past year, and on each occasion I've looked across at this section of the horizon. But, at no time was I motivated to take another shot until the other day when the light and weather came together in a way that caused me to raise my camera to my eye.

Why the title? See this post.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 250
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Donington church

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With 22mm (35mm equivalent) I couldn't do it, but with 17mmm I can. What is it? The answer is fit this church into the frame in landscape format while showing the "semi-detached" nature of its tower.

The village of Donington - like many villages in the Lincolnshire area called Holland - has a big medieval church, a reflection of the relative prosperity of this area in the middle ages when sheep roamed the flat landscape. However, like a lot of these big churches, St Mary and the Holy Rood is fairly near to the road, has houses in close proximity, and its churchyard has a retaining wall and very tall trees. Consequently, the number of positions for a photographer who wants to capture the whole of the building, are relatively few. My recent purchase of the 17-40mm zoom, a lens that covers the range from "ultra-wide" to "normal" has solved my problem at Donington. Over the next few months I'll try it out on other local churches where this is an issue.

When I first bought an SLR in the early 1970s 35mm was considered a wide angle lens. Gradually, over the years, this came to be seen as a relatively normal focal length, and 28mm became the widest that the average amateur photographer aspired to. Today 24mm is relatively common and the enthusiast can choose from a range of wide angle lenses that go down to around 10mm, at which point the "fish-eye" lens with a 180 degree field of view enters the equation. As a result of this widening of lenses and of choice, images with distortion are much more common than formerly, and viewers are much more accepting of it. But, I'm not. Perhaps it's the legacy of my days with longer focal lengths, or perhaps it's my interest in painting and architecture. Whatever the reason, with some images I just have to straighten the verticals. Any time you point the camera up or down, and straight lines feature in the subject, you get convergence. With a wide angle, however, they occur much more frequently and noticeably. Today's image had them, and they've been corrected, as has the building's relative height. But, what can't be corrected is the proper ratios within the building. Here the chancel looks bigger than it is in real life, and the balance of tower to spire isn't quite right. One day there will doubtless be software that can deal with these anomalies. Until then, this is the best I could do as the late November sun started to disappear behind the nearby houses and trees.

For more of my images of the exterior of this church see here, here and here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation:N/A

All change

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I've changed my camera system over the past few days. Actually, that's not strictly true: "I've started to change my system" is nearer the mark. Two factors have prompted this. Firstly, the scope of my photography has changed in recent months and Olympus isn't giving me enough of what I need, and secondly I don't especially want to follow the route that Olympus has said that it is taking with Four Thirds and Micro Four Thirds. Consequenty I've started to divest myself of my Olympus equipment and have bought a Canon camera and lenses. Despite the fact that I've been an Olympus user since 1974 I wouldn't say I have any brand loyalty, though I have enjoyed some of the company's innovations and the fact that, generally speaking, it tried to keep the size and weight of its system as small and low as possible. During the past thirty six years I've always had a second camera but it has never been an Olympus: I chose models by Ricoh, Fuji, Canon and Panasonic. Now I'm going to have to get used to my new, heavier kit. The body-building courses will start soon!

Today's image was taken with the new kit. It shows the top of the metal entrance gateway to the "Teen Park" in Donington, Lincolnshire - a place with cycle and skateboard ramps, shelter and space, where teenagers can hang out.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Sheep on the Fens

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I grew up in sheep country. The hillsides and "tops" of the Craven district of the Yorkshire Dales used to be crawling with them, whilst on the improved grass of the lower slopes and the river valleys it was the beef and milk cattle that took precedence. That area of the Dales still rears a lot of sheep, but the omnipresent Swaledale seems to have given way to a wider range of breeds since the foot and mouth outbreak of 2001. The diet of Dales sheep is grass in its many varieties. When that is unavailable mangolds are sometimes given. During this year's very dry spring I saw farmers delivering concentrate by quad bike to the sheep and lambs on the limestone uplands.

One of the surprises I got following my re-location from the north west of England to Lincolnshire was the sight of sheep on the Fens. I'd visited this area before, but only during spring and summer, and hadn't seen sheep in the fields, or very much pasture on which they could live: a few "hobby" sheep kept in paddocks near farms was about all. So I wasn't ready for the arrival of significant numbers once autumn got under way. What happens on the Fens as far as sheep go is very beneficial for their owners and for the vegetable growers on whose fields they are deposited. Around October flocks are brought in and put onto fields where a crop hasn't sold and has gone to seed, or where the crop has been lifted and there is still plenty of green leaf remaining - as with cauliflowers, for example. If the field already has a sheep-proof boundary the animals are simply turned onto the crop and they eat their way across it following an electric fence that is moved once they have stripped an area. On fields without hedges or other boundaries an electric fence is all that is used to contain them. Often the owner leaves a few hay bales to supplement the green diet, and I have seen "licks" in some fields. A payment in cash or kind can accompany this activity, and the fields must benefit from the manure that is deposited. The owners of the sheep have the the benefit of fresh greens for their animals at a time of year when the vigour of the grass on their upland pastures is in decline. Sheep can be seen on the Fens through the winter, and gradually start to disappear come spring.

The animals in today's photograph had only recently been introduced to this field of unwanted vegetables, and the height of the crop was hiding many of them. I stopped the car on the adjacent lane as I drove past when I noticed the low sun outlining the bodies of a group of nearby animals. Perhaps I should consider this image another one resulting from my self-imposed task of taking more contre jour shots.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 200mm (400mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Commemorated in slate

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In a post a while ago I commented that anyone wanting to erect a permanent memorial to themselves could do worse than have one made in brass. However, if that memorial was to be placed outside then a better choice might be a fine slate such as that found at Swithland in Leicestershire, a material that comes in grey, bluish grey or with a greenish tinge.

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in particular the slate from this location found its way into many churchyards in the East Midlands, Lincolnshire and even further afield. Stone masons prized it for the way very detailed patterns and letters could be cut into its smooth surface. I have a particular fondness for examples from the 1700s when florid scripts, loops, curls and swirls were used on gravestones and wall memorials made of this Swithland slate. Many churchyards in the South Holland area of Lincolnshire where I live have fine examples of this style. The memorial in today's photograph is mounted on an outside wall of the church of St Mary and the Holy Rood at Donington. It commemorates the death of a ten year old boy, Tycho Wing, who must have been a pupil at The Thomas Cowley School in Donington. The fluid script, flourishes, curving underlines, loops that emphasise, and the frame of leaf-like fronds make for a wonderfully delicate effect. Only the slightly black-letter Gothic of the word "Pickworth" departs from the overall style, and even that is brought into the design by the curls that surround it. That this piece of carved stone has been exposed to the weather for 231 years, and still carries the detail that the mason incised, is a testament to its durability and its suitability for this purpose: many of the limestone and sandstone gravestones and wall plaques of that time are now illegible.

Incidentally, the boy commemorated on this memorial must be related to the philosopher, astronomer, astrologer and instrument maker, Tycho Wing (1696-1750), who also came from Pickworth.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Captain Matthew Flinders RN

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It's not unusual to find a town or a city honouring its sons and daughters with a memorial stone or a statue in a prominent place. It is said that London has more statues than any other city, and when I visit the capital I always come across a new one that I've never seen before.Given the size of London it's not surprising that there are so many. You would think it more unusual to come across such a thing in a rural village or town in an agricultural county such as Lincolnshire. And yet quite a few small settlements have statues to prominent people, often explorers. One such is Donington in the district of Holland.

The market place of this village has a slightly smaller than life size metal statue of Captain Matthew Flinders RN (1774-1814), the explorer who discovered and mapped parts of Australia. Alongside him is his cat, Trim. The house where he was born and raised (his father was the local doctor) was demolished in 1908. However, in the later twentieth century the village decided to commemorate its most famous son, and village signs were erected noting that Donington was his birthplace. The chancel of the church had long held memorial tablets to Flinders and his family, but in 1979 a memorial window was installed in a north east window of the north aisle. The design is by John Hayward, and it depicts Flinders in naval uniform. It also shows his friend (and fellow explorer) George Bass from Aswarby, his patron, Sir Joseph Banks, coats of arms, a map of part of the Australian coast, his sloop, "Investigator", various navigational instruments, and a picture of the house in which he was born. There is also a panel noting that the window was paid for by funds from Australia and the UK. Flinders' writings suggest that he had no doubt about the significance of himself and his discoveries, and he would no doubt have been pleased to see public acknowledgement of this in his home town as well as in several places in Australia.

I used the LX3, hand-held, for this shot. Fairly heavy negative EV was required to keep the colour of the lightest sections, and post processing was necessary to correct verticals as well as bring back the colour of the areas that became too dark in the original image. The duller colours of the lower third are the result of the background of bushes and trees outside in the churchyard - a common problem when photographing stained glass.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.4mm (35mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Celebrity pig wrangling and documentaries

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It wasn't my intention to bang on about television again - I had something much more uplifting and positive in mind - but my breakfast table reading gives me no choice. Skimming the TV listings section today I noticed a picture advertising "Jimmy's Global Harvest" on BBC2. It showed a youngish, rather unkempt looking man squatting in a field holding a piece of grass. "Who", I thought, "is Jimmy?" A short synopsis revealed all. Apparently he is Jimmy Doherty, a celebrity pig wrangler, and he's going to discover "how the world's farmers will cope with feeding a growing population." Tonight, in the first of his four programmes he looks at the transformations that have taken place in Brazilian agriculture.

It's amazing how so little writing can provoke so many questions. The first is, "What is a celebrity pig wrangler?", and the second is "Should I care?" Then there's, "Why has Jimmy, out of all the potential agricultural experts, been chosen to present these programmes?" It couldn't be because the target audience knows Jimmy and the people who conceived the series think viewers are such saps that they can't give their attention to anything that isn't fronted by a celebrity? No, that coudn't possibly be the reason. There are more questions that come to mind about the dumbing down of television documentaries, but I'll spare you them, and say that I shan't be tuning in this evening. But then you guessed that didn't you? It's not that the subject isn't sufficiently serious and important. No, I shall give it a miss because for the progamme makers world food production isn't important enough to warrant serious treatment and be introduced by someone who is an expert in the field. Or perhaps I misjudge them: maybe, having watched Jimmy wrangling his pigs in a field, they imagine him an expert in every field of agriculture.

All of which has nothing to do with today's photograph of St Mary and the Holy Rood at Donington, Lincolnshire. On a brief shopping trip I stopped and snapped this late afternoon shot as the sun descended through the churchyard trees. Donington church is one of those that is extremely difficult to photograph from nearby. It suffers - from the photographer's point of view - by having large trees nearby. It also has a tower that acts as a porch and is attached to the south aisle. This is an unusual, but attractive, arrangement that Victorian Gothic architects sometimes copied. However, it makes it quite difficult to achieve a satisfactory photographic composition given the churchyard constraints. On this image I placed the church on the right, a row of trees at the left, and moved so that part of the sun was visible at the edge of the near trunk. I wanted it to add a warm note to a cold scene, and give something of a starburst effect, which it does, more or less.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 6.3mm (30mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Using the horizon

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I grew up in an area of hills, mountains and valleys in North Yorkshire. I currently live in a flat area of Lincolnshire. (Note to UK residents who have never been to Lincolnshire - contrary to popular belief much of the county isn't flat!) One of the things you find when you're making landscape photographs in an area of flat land is the importance of the horizon.

In recent weeks I've taken a few photographs that have used the device of a ragged horizon punctuated by a church spire, specifically those of Sutterton, Helpringham and Donington. In the case of Sutterton the main subject is supported by the details of the incoming clouds. The horizon in the Helpringham shot is helped by the colour gradations in the sky and the detail that is still discernible in the foreground fields. In the Donington photograph the foreground offers little interest, but the soft pink/orange of the sky prevents the image being too monochrome, and gives a little warmth. Those three images emphasise something else that you learn photographing flat landscapes: a good sky and finding foreground interest is really important. In hilly areas you can shoot upwards, downwards and across, and can often change your height relative to your subject to give emphasis or to create a composition. In the flatlands you are usually shooting across, and generally raise or lower your camera only to increase the relative importance of sky or foreground.

I was thinking about this the other day when I took another "horizon" shot, also featuring the church of St Mary and the Holy Rood at Donington. Remembering my previous early evening shot I looked for a different composition. The sky wasn't offering much so I positioned myself behind some snow-swept reeds that offered foreground interest. I took a couple of photographs. The first had the church in focus. However, I preferred my second attempt (above) with the reeds in focus and the church out of focus.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 110mm (220mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St Mary & the Holy Rood, Donington

click photo to enlarge
Today's photograph shows a view across the fields near Donington, Lincolnshire, at the tail end of a late December afternoon as the sun is about to disappear below the horizon. The ground and roofs are covered with hard frozen snow, and silhouetted against the sunset glow are skeletal trees and the tower and spire of the church of St Mary and the Holy Rood.

To my knowledge this dedication is unique to Donington church. There are St Marys a-plenty, and quite a few Holyroods (notably in Edinburgh), but no other church seems to have this particular conflation of names. The word "rood" means crucifix or cross. Medieval churches frequently separated the nave (where the people congregated) from the chancel (where the clergy officiated) with a pierced wooden "rood screen", so called because it was surmounted by a representation of Christ on the cross. Many of these old screens survive today, though usually without the rood, and quite a few churches have newer, Victorian examples (complete with rood). That being the case, you might imagine that Donington church's dedication makes reference to this symbol of the Christian faith. And doubtless it does. But in what way? It could simply be an honouring of the principal icon of Christianity. Or, and I think this is more likely, the early medieval building may have held a "fragment of the True Cross" as a relic with which to attract visitors and donations of money. Many early churches displayed holy relics - fragments of saints' clothes, a lock of their hair, a bone or two, a scrap of Christ's shroud, or an old piece of wood reputed to have been brought back from the Holy Land and "definitely a piece of the cross on which our Saviour died, and yours for only a few gold sovereigns father!" Few, if any, of these can have been genuine relics, but many would have been acquired in good faith. I don't know if this is the case at Donington, but it would account for the rood getting second billing to Christ's mother in the dedication.

Donington church is a large and beautiful building that dates back to the 1100s, though much of what we see today is from the 1300s and 1400s. It was one of the sources of inspiration that Victorian Gothic architects looked to when they began to build again in this style. Like many of our old churches it needs constant attention to keep its fabric together, and it is currently undergoing some restoration. If anyone feels able to donate to this worthy cause this website tells you how to go about it.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Dumped TVs and fanciful imaginings

click photo to enlarge
On a warm and sunny afternoon we had a cycle ride that took us through the flat Fenland landscape in the vicinity of Donington, Lincolnshire. In many areas of Britain the countryside starts to get a slightly unkempt look at the beginning of autumn. Not in the Fens however. This intensively farmed area receives constant attention from man and machine as crops are planted, tended, and harvested, at which point the soil is prepared for the next crop. And, since maximising output is the aim, just about every acre is well-tended and tidy.

So, as I cycled alongside a field where regimented ranks of winter wheat shoots were just starting to appear, you can imagine my surprise at coming upon an old TV resting upright on the carefully manicured soil near the road. What kind of low life would drive into the open country, open their car door and throw an unwanted television down the bank on to a field? Especially when the local council's "amenity sites" (waste dump) will receive and recycle such articles at no charge. Sometimes I despair of the selfish irresponsibility of my fellow citizens.

However, rather than dwell on the disfigurement of the countryside by the oaf who dumped this article I thought I'd see the discarded TV as an "opportunity", and took this photograph. Remembering Marcel Duchamp's dictum that anything can be art as long as it is taken out of context, it occurred to me that the unwanted television was a "ready-made", not unlike his bicycle wheels and urinals, and consequently I pronounce my photograph to be a work of art! I'm thinking that, if I can secure a sponsor to help me develop my theme then today's image will be the first in a series that will comment on the "the condition of mankind." My next image will have a man buried up to his neck in the field with his head inside the TV (screen removed), and arms sticking up to left and right. Then I'll move on to life-sized straw figures standing in the ripe wheat and caught in the act of hurling the TV at an oncoming combine harvester. Yes, that TV has definite possibilities... Or maybe not!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Crash, Bang, Bloom!

click photo to enlarge
The Royal Horticultural Society (RHS) organises an annual competition for communities and organisations under the title "Britain in Bloom". Regional organisations do the spadework (pun intended) of collecting entries, organising judging and making awards. Regional winners go forward to national finals. The purpose behind the event is to provide a greater incentive for people to use flowers to beautify where they live and work.

The other day I was in the village of Donington in Lincolnshire, a place that always enters the East Midlands competition, and I was admiring the flowers on display. Wall and hanging baskets full of bright blooms adorned railings, houses, shops, and public spaces. The flower beds in the park looked stunning, as did the area around the statue of the village's famous son, Matthew Flinders (who discovered and mapped parts of Australia). In fact the whole village must have looked marvellous for the visit of the judges at the end of July.

One particular display - featured in today's photograph - especially caught my eye. The Fire & Rescue Service building often has a wrecked car parked in a recess outside. These cars, which are changed periodically, are vehicles that have been involved in road traffic accidents. They are a graphic reminder to all who pass, placed there by those who attend these scenes of carnage, to take care when driving on the local roads. Clearly one of the flower organisers, rather than seeing the car as an eye-sore that might detract from the displays that were being erected, saw it as an opportunity. It had been laden with flowers - on the roof, in the engine bay, nearby on the ground, even inside (the windows slightly open forming a greenhouse of sorts), and looked great. I particularly liked the spiky plant on the engine that reminded me of the jets of water that sometimes spurt out of cars after a violent impact.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/600
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On