Man-made reed beds

click photo to enlarge
A couple of days ago I got up from my sickbed* and accompanied my wife on a shopping expedition to Spalding. Because I hadn't been out for a while we also had a walk round Springfield Gardens, a 20 acre site adjacent to a shopping centre. As we came upon an area of reed bed and water I reflected on how well this feature had developed. In particular, how natural-looking it was, what a welcome contrast it made to the areas of formal planting, and how it must increase the biodiversity of the site.

There was a time in the latter decades of the twentieth century when, on the back of the rise in environmental consciousness, every garden seemed to acquire a "wild" area. It could be as little as a pile of rotting logs, a bed of nettles or a structure made of bamboo tubes for bees to colonise. Or it was a meadow area, a natural-looking pond or perhaps a stand of native trees and shrubs designed to attract birds and insects. What characterised many of these developments was their unnatural appearance; the way they were clearly bolted on to a traditional garden. Rather fewer fulfilled their aim of being a haven of wildness in an area of manicured order, a place attractive to native species that was a counter-balance to the regularity and species-poverty of many gardens and much agricultural land.

As I gazed across the greater reedmace, reeds and trees, I could, for a moment block out the sound of traffic on the nearby A17, forget the hum of air-conditioning in the buildings behind me, and imagine I was out in the marshes where bearded tits flitted about, bitterns boomed and the only sound was the reeds rustling in the wind.

* My absence from blogging in recent days is due, I think, to the generosity of one of my grandchildren. Not for the first time after a visit I was stricken by a minor illness; in this instance a sore throat, loss of voice, streaming nose and general lethargy. I seem to be on the mend.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  - 0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Jogging, urban and rural

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An east wind meant the weather was warm but misty on our monthly trip over the Humber Bridge to East Yorkshire to see an elderly family member. Consequently we didn't stray too far from our route on the way back, deciding to take a stroll to the centre of the large suspension bridge both for exercise and as a photo gathering opportunity. However, the mist was too dense for anything startling by way of landscapes so I turned my attention to people enjoying the spring warmth on the bridge footpath. I snapped a few cyclists and people looking through the pay-per-view telescope. Then this jogger in his day-glow orange top appeared. I photographed him coming towards us and after he'd passed by. The latter shot is the best one in terms of composition and colour, the bright, eye-searing vest contrasting nicely with the muted tones of the bridge superstructure.

I was pleased to see this jogger here, not only for selfish, photographic reasons, but because jogging in urban or man-made surroundings seems to me so much better than in the countryside or on hills and mountains. Many won't agree - in fact, will strongly disagree - with that sentiment. My view is that, on a relatively small, densely populated island such as ours, we should venture into such areas in a sensitive manner - walking is best (though see my thoughts on this too!!) - rather than insensitively by jogging. I've seen too many upland footpaths, bridleways and lanes carved up by joggers (and mountain bikers, motorbikes and 4X4s) to believe that such intrusions have little or no adverse impact. When I'm in London joggers are ever-present in daylight hours on the Thames-side paths and roads. Their presence on these routes, it seems to me, gives those involved all the physical and mental benefits that they seek without the collateral damage that is inflicted on upland and countryside land and wildlife by those who take their energetic exercise in such places.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 120mm (180mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Spas, bottled water and the Iceni

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The word "spa", meaning a resort that has grown up around a source of naturally occurring mineral waters, derives from an early example of such a place, namely the town of Spa in Belgium. Spas grew in popularity over the centuries until, during the 1700s (and ever since) the well-heeled flocked to such places to "take the waters" either by drinking them, bathing in them or both. I've visited many spas in Europe and the United Kingdom and found they mostly share a group of similar characteristics: up-market hotels, well-tended public gardens, a higher than average number of better off and elderly people, and a well-signposted "source" of their noted mineral water that invariably tastes foul. It struck me the other day that whilst such places still attract visitors, "taking the waters" is less popular than formerly and that the reason for this may well be the ready availability of bottled mineral water from every corner of the globe.

I've written elsewhere in this blog about my incredulity concerning the rise in the popularity of bottled mineral water during the second half of the twentieth century. It always seemed to me that the non-existent powers that people attributed to spa waters in the past transferred to the bottled equivalent and gullible people became hooked. When fashion and social cachet were added to the product producers found that they could charge ridiculous prices for a product that was no better (and usually worse) than the water that is almost free from the domestic tap. More recently pseudo-medical language has been employed to sell this over-priced liquid. We are now encouraged to drink the stuff to "re-hydrate" ourselves rather than because we are thirsty. The transport of tons of water around the world to satisfy this craving remains, of course, completely indefensible.

All that being said, I was pleased to see a new-to-me brand of bottled water in a chiller cabinet the other day. Why, you might wonder? Well, I'd rather that bottled water completely disappeared as a must-have purchase, but if it is to exist then domestically produced varieties have a more acceptable environmental footprint. And with the name "Iceni" and the letters "GB" prominently placed this was clearly a local product - the Iceni were a tribe of Eastern England living in the North Norfolk/Cambridgeshire/South Lincolnshire area at the time of the Roman invasion of Britain - and the water comes from near Duxford in Cambridgeshire.

The colours and lighting of the bottles in the chiller cabinet appealed to me, as was clearly the designers' intention!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19.3mm (52mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Front gardens, parking and poppies

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In 2008 legislation was introduced in England requiring any homeowner who wants to lay hardstanding of more than five square metres in their front garden to apply for planning permission if they propose to use a material that is not permeable. The proliferation of cars has resulted in quite a few front gardens being converted into parking spaces. The impermeable surfaces used for this purpose have increased the amount of urban run-off from rain and is a contributory factor to increased flooding. The legislation seeks to ameliorate this effect by encouraging the use of porous surfaces such as gravel, block paving, etc, rather than concrete.

I'm all in favour of this: flooding in built-up areas is something to be avoided. However, I'm also against turning front gardens into parking deserts. I recognise that quite a few houses have little or no off-street parking and that such a facility is desirable for a vehicle owner. But, the greenery that a front garden offers to the householder and the rest of the neighbourhood is desirable too, not only for the beauty that it can bestow, but for the habitat that it offers to our wildlife. It saddens me to see front gardens lost to parking, but it makes me annoyed when I see gravel, paving, tarmac and concrete put down because the owner doesn't want the "effort" and "inconvenience" of looking after a front garden. There are just as many eyesore gardens created for this reason as there are for parking, and with less justification.

Creating a front garden that more or less looks after itself is relatively easy. An area closely planted with shrubs, small trees, perennials and self-seeding annuals (such as the California poppies above) requires only a few hours maintenance per year and rewards the gardener with all-year-round beauty as well as the approving glances of the neighbourhood. The amount of work required is, in fact, less than if the garden is a lawn, the surface that is often chosen by ignoramuses who want a "labour-saving" garden. Of course, if you set your mind against more interesting gardening and are happy to remain blissfully ignorant then this knowledge will have escaped you. But, with a little effort anyone can learn enough to plant, maintain and - yes - enjoy, an attractive and environmentally beneficial front garden. Even if it has a car parked alongside it.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Two eye-opening statistics

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Newspapers and the internet throw statistics at us all the time. A good number or a summary encapsulated in a figure is a powerful tool for grabbing your audience. But you have to be careful. Sometimes the statistics are a product of a journalist's innumeracy, are often simplified, extrapolated or taken out context from more complex data, rendering them inaccurate at best or fictitious at worse. So, it is with caution and an element of scepticism that I present two statistics that I came across recently. The first, on initial inspection, seems to have nothing to do with photography - but it does. The second is directly photography related.

In a recent Guardian newspaper article about data storage I read the following:

"DatacentreDynamics' research also reveals that British datacentres consume 6.4 gigawatts of power annually – enough to power 6m homes – and that is set to increase by 6.7% over the next year."

That is an awful lot of electricity, even allowing for the fact that a significant proportion of the data stored here is for overseas users. It also clearly underlines that cloud computing and electronic data are not quite the no-cost or even low-cost option, that we sometimes think. I used to be sure that photographs viewed on screens and stored on servers, and that blogs such as this one that exist away from the computer on which they are written, used less physical resources than prints and paper. But do they? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

The second statistic that brought me up short was reported on the website, "Visual News", and is a graphic that purports to be "A Snapshot of the Photography Industry". It documents the rise of the phone camera, the consequent decline of the point and shoot camera, the dominance of sites such as Facebook and much else. It also includes the following:

"Today we snap as many photos every two minutes as humanity as a whole did in the 1800s."

In other words it takes us 120 seconds to accumulate the number of photographs that were amassed in the 100 years between 1800 and 1900. Which prompted me to think that the first statistic about energy use for data storage could well be accurate! It also made me consider whether ever higher pixel counts on cameras should be opposed on environmental grounds, something that hadn't occurred to me before. All of which has little to do with today's photograph, taken on an overcast day, of boats on the river at Ely, Cambridgeshire. Except these two further thoughts. Firstly, this shot represents yet another addition to the total data stored across the world. And secondly, I wonder how much electricity this one image uses in a year and at what cost?

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Environmental impact blues (and reds, oranges and yellows)

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I once tried to discover whether an artificial Christmas tree was "greener" than a living tree that was bought, used once and then composted. I discovered that there was no consensus on the matter, but that the problem had engaged the minds of many. Some studies said yes, some no, and yet others that there was little, if any, difference.

The other day, as I was feeding our small incinerator with dry garden waste, the result of our clearing the borders ready for spring, I was considering the pros and cons of burning versus taking it to the municipal refuse site for recycling into compost. By the time I'd ticked off every advantage and disadvantage of each method that I could think of my poor old head hurt and the waste was almost gone. My conclusion, if it could be called such, was that it isn't obviously better to compost centrally than to burn locally. The fact is, more knowledge than the layman can put his hands on is required to weigh such factors as the energy used in the transport of waste and in commercial composting, the energy saved by using the locally burnt residue as garden fertiliser compared to sourcing it from elsewhere, etc. We compost and use quite a lot of our garden waste ourselves, and most of our woody, green waste goes to a local collection that visits the village fortnightly during spring, summer and autumn. However, this doesn't operate in winter, hence the small amount of burning that we sometimes undertake at this time of year.

As I fed the flames, trying to keep an efficient blaze that produced minimal smoke and particles, I grabbed my camera and took today's photograph. However, flames are like water for the photographer; alluring to the eye, but impossible to capture with a still image because their attraction lies as much in movement as in the other qualities that they display. I tried to contrast the fragments of burning waste with the swirling flames in this shot, but not very successfully. The truth is, as spring approaches I am hungry for deep, strong colours and these flames offered me a fix before nature has fully revealed itself.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Energy policy and visual blight

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In recent times a disfiguring tide of supposedly environmentally beneficial technology has swept across the country, inflicting high-tech litter wherever it has flowed. The gaze of every passer-by notices the interlopers, and the eye-sores themselves will undoubtedly become semi-permanent fixtures across rural and urban landscapes. I refer, of course, to... roof-mounted solar panels!

Given that much UK housing is mediocre in both style and substance the affixing of these panels to roofs makes buildings look abysmal. They are always a negative visual contribution. The environmental blight that they are responsible for is, to my mind, worse than that caused by wind turbines. That they make some sort of green contribution to the generation of electricity is, no doubt, true. But what is also true is that it comes at a very high price. And what I find truly remarkable is that I have heard not a single voice raised against them. Perhaps that's, in part, because the people who have fitted them have been bought off with the profit to be made from the feed-in tariff and their eyes have been blinded by the glitter of the promised piles of money.

In my part of the world I see these glossy abominations fitted to roofs new and old, to slates, concrete tiles and pantiles, their sleek, black rectangles like alien sores, destroying any architectural integrity that a building may once have had. It seems strange to me that a proposed wind farm stirs up oppositions whenever and wherever it is mooted but these accretions are meekly accepted. Could it be that the small scale, virus-like spread of roof-mounted solar panels will mean that people will wake up to the environmental damage they cause only when it's far too late? I can't help feeling that a programme of retro-fitted house insulation of a magnitude greater than the current weak efforts would have achieved greater results at less monetary and environmental cost.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 238mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fishing nets

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We visited Lynn Museum in King's Lynn, Norfolk, the other day. It's a small museum based in a rather fine, converted, Victorian-period Union Baptist Chapel. Our time there was very enjoyable, not least because it had a good balance of exhibits and interpretation - too many museums go overboard explaining things these days. The fact that it has free entry from October to March helped too!

Among the exhibits was a collection of wooden "needles"used in the making of fishing nets. I don't recall seeing any actual nets of similar vintage, but that's not surprising. Nets (like the needles) were once made of bio-degradable materials such as cotton, and so most of them have disappeared. Today, of course, the great majority of nets are composed of man-made materials; nylon and the like. One consequence of this is that their bright, often day-glo, colours are a familiar sight on beaches or tangled up in marine structures the world over. They are a major component of the litter and refuse in and by the sea and have been identified as a hazard to wildlife. Some marine biologists feel that they make a significant contribution to the nano-particles of plastic etc. that have entered the food-chain and which are likely to have an adverse effect on human health.

But, as I mentioned in a recent post about blots on the landscape, humankind, including photographers, are capable of finding interest and even beauty in things that we often, in general terms, deprecate. And so it is with bright, modern, fishing nets. On the wall above the computer at which I am writing this blog post is a print of one of my photographs from 2007, a favourite of my output, that shows fragments of rope and netting wrapped around some slipway posts and chains at Cleveleys, Lancashire. It was the memory of this image that caused me to stop by a pile of discarded nets on the quayside at King's Lynn. They were in the shade with a shaft of sunlight throwing a glowing line across them. The light and dark with the kingfisher-like combination of colours was very appealing and so I took today's photograph of part of the untidy heap.

photograph and text(c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The manicured countryside

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I frequently walk and cycle on a track across some fields near where I live. The crops at each side of the path vary: often it's wheat, sometimes it's beet and occasionally it's brassicas of one kind or another. Because this is the Lincolnshire Fens the land is intensively farmed and areas of uncultivated land are few. There is a nearby stream that has reeds growing alongside it, but apart from that, for much of the route, the track itself provides the only place where wild plants thrive. Each year I've delighted in the lesser bindweed, dog daisies, chamomile, cornflowers and many other species that grow at the edges of this route that is used not only by walkers but horse riders, cyclists and agricultural vehicles. In an area such as the Fens even a small patch of wild land is a magnet for mammals, birds, and insects. Along this track the wildlife I commonly at various times of year includes see partridges, skylarks, reed buntings, yellowhammers, snipe, little egrets, wheatear, goldfinches, linnets, sedge warblers, yellow wagtails, hares, stoats, and various butterflies and insects. The other day I stood on it and watched a hobby circling above me: buzzards, sparrowhawks and kestrels are not uncommon and I've even seen a passing red kite.

So, you can imagine my disappointment and anger when, a couple of months ago, I went along the track and found that a tractor with a grass cutter had mown everything on and alongside it, almost up to the edge of the crops in the adjacent fields. It seemed a completely pointless thing to do. The crops are sprayed with herbicide and pesticide on a predetermined regime, so any seeds or insects going into them from the track have little if any chance of thriving. But, of course, all the wild plants were cut down and the number that completed their life cycle was drastically reduced, limiting not only their viability ut also the seeds available for local birds. Moreover, the beauty of the route was destroyed. I suppose to a certain kind of farmer it looked "neater". However, it's hard to keep nature down and the plants started to grow again. But recently it was all cut down again in the same way! Utter madness!

It occurs to me that acts of this sort are often quite mindless, and are frequently a result of either boredom (there are times when even farmers are at a loose end) or a desire for tidiness that borders on the obsessive. Not all farmers are this way inclined: many now farm with a keen regard for wildlife as well as their profit margin, and don't manicure every acre. In my part of the world many take advantage of agricultural subsidies intended to promote biodiversity, and leave strips uncultivated. But, there are still farmers who see nature as a competitor rather than a necessary and valuable part of the landscape and are determined to either obliterate it or keep it under very tight control.

Today's photograph, that prompted today's "reflection", shows "weeds" i.e. wild flowers, growing along the edge of a wheat field in Norfolk.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Guardians of the countryside?

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I remember hearing, many years ago, a representative of the National Farmers Union (NFU) being interviewed on the radio. He was defending the actions of his members against criticism that their practices were largely responsible for the massive reduction, during the past fifty years, in farmland bird species and wild flowers. He argued, very cogently, that farmers had responded to the demand by retailers and consumers for cheaper food, and that lower prices had come about by increased efficiency, including mechanization, a smaller workforce, and larger farms and fields. And, whilst he acknowledged that this had changed the character of farms, and to some extent, the appearance of the countryside, he was at pains to point out that the landscape was something farmers cared about and conserved. He felt it was wrong to characterise them as destructive. However, he then went on to describe his members as "guardians of the countryside", a description that I felt was more than a little flattering.

I have come across, and known, farmers who thoroughly deserve this title, people who do farm with landscape and wildlife as more than an afterthought: clearly there are many such people. Unfortunately, there are also those who pay no regard to biodiversity, who see wild flora and fauna as competitors to their main business, and seem to conduct a campaign of despoilation in the search for ever higher yields. A few days cycling in the Nottinghamshire countryside have recently highlighted one of these practices. We passed mile after mile of hedgerows that had been smashed ("cut" does describe the way they were savaged), often with a powered grass flail rather than a purpose-built hedge trimmer. A farmer, still busy in the distance pulverizing the hedges, had littered the verge and road we were navigating with splintered hawthorn debris. But then, by way of pleasant contrast, we came across hedges that had been sensitively cut, at a time of year that didn't destroy nests, and fields such as the one in today's photograph, where oak trees had been left to grow despite the inconvenience that they must present to tractors, ploughs and combine harvesters. We were left to wonder what made farmers act in such clearly different ways?

Our time away coincided with some unsettled weather, and this image was taken as we pedalled home in the knowledge that rain was imminent. The lone trees, tractor lines and the brooding clouds made for a simple landscape that appealed to me, and I used the LX3's 16:9 format to capture the sweeping undulations of the stubble covered field.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9.3mm (44mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The price of stone

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I grew up in the Yorkshire Dales, an area of upland Carboniferous Limestone. Around the small market town where I lived the geological phenomena known as the Craven Faults produced a fractured landscape that, in places, marked the separation of the light grey rock from darker Millstone Grit. The limestone quarry at Giggleswick was in full production, its crushed stone being taken by overhead buckets to wagons at the nearest railway station. Bigger quarries still could be seen up the Ribble Valley near Horton-in-Ribblesdale. However, I discovered as a boy that wherever I walked, whether it was on limestone or Millstone Grit, there were old, small quarries dotted about the landscape where people had cut and broken stone from the plentiful outcrops and cliffs. This had been used to make the drystone field walls, the barns, farmhouses and domestic buildings of the locality. Because they were small they often looked like natural features, and in most cases they blended in with their surroundings very well. This was in strong contrast with the big, commercial quarries that produced aggregate in large quantities and had associated vehicles and industrial plant to facilitate the process. Their impact on the location was (and still is) in the nature of enormous, disfiguring scars.

On a recent visit to Breedon Hill in Leicestershire I was reminded of the quarrying that was familiar to me in my childhood. Though not on the scale of those in Ribblesdale, this limestone quarry is also making a significant and damaging mark on its location which is an area of ancient settlement and the site of an important medieval church. It's ironic that the main product here is a "gold" coloured aggregate that is marketed as suitable for maintaining and enhancing the appearance of historic buildings!

That said, I did find photographic interest in the stone crusher that I could see from the wall at the edge of the churchyard above the quarry. Stone is being delivered to the machine's hopper by the digger at the right of the image, and is then passed though  its bowels and broken into aggregate of different sizes which are deposited in separate piles ready for collection. Looking down on the scene that resembled an alien landscape I reflected that the price of stone is much higher than the cost per tonne to the customer.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 70mm (140mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Wind power

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A new wind farm has recently appeared on the Fens of Lincolnshire. I've taken an interest in its construction, making several journeys to watch the turbines being erected. On each occasion I met people doing the same thing. One man had an interest in cranes, and had come to see the particularly large machine that was used to erect the columns, nacelle and blades. Others were fascinated by the size, shape and otherworldliness of the turbines. And quite a few recognised the significance of the appearance of these modern windmills in this flat landscape that once held a multitude of windmills and windpumps.

Perhaps those who went to view the erection of the wind farm were a self-selected group who harbour no ill-feeling towards these giants, but it surprised me to find that everyone I met was favourably disposed towards them. Many commented on their elegance and beauty. Some said they were greatly preferable to the electricity pylons. Quite a few recognised the necessity for more environmental forms of power generation, and the need for the electricity to be controlled entirely by our own national government. There was none of the "not in my backyard" (nimbyism) that often characterises the debate about wind turbines, and, whilst I know that what I heard was not representative of all public opinion, it did give me hope that a change is underway.

Today's photograph shows nine of the thirteen turbines seen across an almost ripe barley field. A strong wind is blowing away the fair-weather clouds, and replacing them with a more threatening sky. Some say that turbines are a visual abomination that spoil the view. Such people are usually condemning change and the loss of the familiar. They forget (if they ever knew) that our beloved, "timeless" English landscape of carefully tended fields, trees and farms would be unrecognisable and probably abhorrent to our forebears of only a century or two ago. In the Fens, and elsewhere, change will and must happen, and even a wind farm can make a positive contribution, if only people cast aside their blinkers and let their eyes see it!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20mm (40mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Blowin' in the wind

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"It always is wretched weather according to us. The weather is like the government — always in the wrong. In summer-time we say it is stifling; in winter that it is killing; in spring and autumn we find fault with it for being neither one thing nor the other and wish it would make up its mind...We shall never be content until each man makes his own weather and keeps it to himself." from "Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow", Jerome K. Jerome (1859-1927), English author

The quotation above pretty much sums up the British attitude to the weather - there's always too much of it and it's always the wrong sort! I suppose that attitude (and the penchant for holidays where the sun always shines and the temperature is always high) comes from living on a damp, cloudy, windy island where three kinds of weather each day is not unusual. But will this always be our attitude? There's a good chance that global warming will lead to Britain's weather being seen as highly desirable. Increasing warmth and plentiful rainfall could well be the envy of many countries. And, in an age of rising fuel prices those regular westerlies offer the prospect of wind-generated electricity for all. But for that to happen the people of these islands must get over their NIMBY-based opposition to turbines.

Yesterday I watched a wonderful feat of skill and engineering as the blades of a wind turbine were assembled at the base of its tower and then lifted into place. Cranes, men on the end of steadying ropes, and a man standing on top of the column (can you see him?) all performed a sort of high-tech ballet to elevate and rotate the assembly and place it on its nacelle. On the flat Fenland landscape of Lincolnshire the turbines can be seen for miles. Perhaps, in time, people will see them as spinning beacons of a greener, reliable energy supply, rather than blots on the landscape, and realise that for Britain's energy needs the answer is (at least in part) "blowin' in the wind." Cue harmonica, acoustic guitar and wailing, nasal voice!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm (96mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Looking up

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Mankind's impact on the earth is much discussed these days, particularly with regard to global warming, diminishing resources, the extinction of life forms, and the despoiling of land and the sea. Such are the demands that we make of our finite planet, it is increasingly hard to find a place where the mark of man is not visible. The uninhabited desert is frequently littered with the debris of wars. Mount Everest is marked by the dumps of successive generations of climbers. The jungles of the tropics are scarred by new roads and burnt clearings. And now we read that the seas are becoming a soup of decaying plastic as well as a dump for sewage and other noxious materials.

So, where can we look to see a sight unchanged from that seen by our ancestors? Well there clearly are still some locations on land and sea but they usually have to be sought out. The most convenient place is actually above our heads! Especially at night. The stars have held a fascination for mankind ever since he first glanced skywards. They offer a unique sight that is available to all without the inconvenience of travel. Or they should. The problem is that light pollution from cities hides all but the brightest stars, the moon and planets, and today it's only in the countryside away from street lighting that we can see the heavens in all their beauty - the odd satellite or aircraft permitting! The International Dark-Sky Association and its affiliated organisations work to return our birthright to us. Interestingly the shape of the constellations has changed slightly since Stone Age man gazed upwards, but essentially, what he saw, we see.

When the builders of our medieval cathedrals came to decide how to finish their ceilings they often painted golden stars on a blue background to represent the night sky or heaven, the destination of believers. As vaulting became more intricate and the short decorative ribs called liernes were introduced, it seemed obvious to make it into a star pattern (called a stellar vault), and symbolise heaven with one beautiful, radiant star. That is what happened to the underside of the crossing tower of Peterborough Cathedral shown in the photograph above.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Not so common sense

click photo to enlarge

"Common sense is the collection of predjudices acquired by the age eighteen".
Albert Einstein (1879-1955), German-born theoretical physicist

Many would think Albert Einstein's view of what constitutes common sense somewhat jaundiced, but it clearly contains an element of truth. Perhaps the dictionary definition of "sound judgement not based on specialised knowledge" would receive more support. Common sense is a great quality, but it can often lead us astray, and is frequently enlisted by those wanting to cut through what they see as the obfuscation of deeper analysis.

In the debate over the environment, and in particular the production of greenhouse gases, common sense is used to support the growing of biofuels. It seems obvious that renewable sources must replace depleting oil, and will have less environmental impact. And yet, recent analysis by scientists from a range of disciplines suggest that the proposed cultivation of crops for fuel is often worse for the environment than fossil fuels. Similarly, the purchase by consumers of locally-sourced food is widely felt to be better for the environment, reducing the cost and pollution associated with transport. It just seems like common sense. Yet the production of green beans in Kenya, which are then flown to the UK, is found to be less environmentally damaging in all but the main months of the UK outdoor harvest. Apparently Kenyan beans are grown more organically, without the machinery and range of pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers that are used here. And, whereas the UK (and nearby mainland European growers) use heat to get early and late crops, in Kenya this isn't necessary. Research turns common-sense on its head.

I was thinking about these issues when I photographed this steam engine, 5224, a C.B. Collett design of 1924 on loan from the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, here at the preserved North Norfolk Railway line at Sheringham. I reflected on whether improvements to the coal-burning steam engine would ever make this type of propulsion compete economically and environmentally with diesel and electricity. Common sense tells me that it is unlikely, but then common sense sometimes proves to be nonsense!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13mm (26mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8.0
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

In praise of the dying

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"When a dead tree falls the woodpeckers share in its death", Malayan proverb

In the past fortnight I have read a couple of newspaper articles lamenting the increasing amount, and persistence, of litter in the UK. In the most recent piece three journalists visited three cities - Edinburgh, Manchester and London - to see if litter was as bad as the original author claimed. Interestingly they reported that they were fairly clean! But these examples notwithstanding, it is easy to find areas that are unkempt, with plastic bags being one of the main causes of pollution.

The Irish Republic recently banned plastic bags with great effect on the appearance of the country. The free-trade flag-wavers of the main UK political parties seem unable to do anything as radical or as environmentally-friendly as this. And yet nowadays they all claim green credentials! What puzzles me however, is how on the one hand we have a litter problem, and on the other we have obsessive tidier-uppers in the countryside. Farmers, it seems, can't wait to trim (or should I say smash) hedges into rectilinear regimentation, and many old trees are grubbed up before they can fall on someone's head precipitating a legal action. Returning to the UK from nearby continental countries one is immediately struck by the orderliness of the countryside. I appreciate that this appeals to many people. However I do sometimes feel that many of our self-styled guardians of the countryside are still too over-enthusiastic in their desire for order, at the expense of wildlife and landscape.

So, when I saw these two old trees near Skippool, Lancashire, hanging on to life despite the seasonal flooding of the field in which they grow, I thought "Hooray". I was glad for the visual interest they give to the spot, for the dinners that their rotting wood gives to insect and bird life, and I was pleased that they had been either overlooked or valued as part of the landscape. Their reflections and silhouettes against the cold morning light cried out for a photograph. I used a zoom lens at 142mm (35mm equivalent), with the camera on Aperture Priority (f8 at 1/500 second), ISO 100, with -0.7EV.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

This bike is rubbish!

click photo to enlarge

The first two-wheeler bicycle that I ever owned was assembled by my father. He took an old steel frame, stripped, it painted it, then fixed all the other components to it. A few parts he bought: some he re-used. There was a time when bicycles were repeatedly recycled! But no more. Today bicycles seem to be "use once" consumer items, much like electronic goods, furniture, and virtually anything else you care to name.

How did this situation come about? Why is a machine that has the potential to last a lifetime, with occasional component replacements, now something to be thrown away after a few years' use? I suppose the fact that western societies are richer is part of the answer. The days when a bicycle was an expensive item are (enthusiast machines excepted) long gone. Manufacture in low-labour cost economies has also had the effect of reducing the price. The use of shorter life alloy components and frames means that they wear out quicker. Furthermore, the increasing complexity of gears, and the introduction of frippery like suspension has made them less user-serviceable. Put all that together, and a scuffed, broken, or otherwise non-functioning machine is thrown away rather than repaired! And that's sad. The bicycle is an environmentally-friendly form of transport that becomes an environmental problem if its life is short. It can also become litter, like this bicycle revealed by the receding tide at Cleveleys, Lancashire.

I took this photograph just as the water had flowed away from the bike, and placed the image in the middle of the frame, knowing that its shape and the background would introduce considerable asymmetry. I used a wide zoom lens at 22mm (35mm equivalent), with the camera set to Aperture Priority (f7.1 at 1/200 second), ISO 100, with -0.3EV.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen