Garden colour

click photo to enlarge
There is a school of gardening that favours subtle, muted colours that belong to the same palette - say light blues and purples - to which white is sometimes added. This can be very effective. It can also become monotonous. My preference is for subtlety occasionally disrupted by an explosion of colour. And, when it comes to floral pyrotechnics, few flowers offer more of a "bang" than the gaillardia.

We've grown this flower for quite a few years and I always look forward to its appearance in the border. The red, orange and yellow blooms could never be described as subtle and the colour combination is not one that has a particular appeal for  me. On a recent tour of the garden with my camera and the macro lens I stopped in front of the gaillardias and tried to work out what it was that I liked about them. I came to the conclusion that it is the mixture of strong contrast and the way the yellow petal tips give the outline of each flower head strong definition.

I've photographed this flower before (see here, here and here for example) and this time I again looked for a different composition. I found it by keeping the camera to my eye and slowly moving around the blooms. This view with the out of focus foliage seemed to further accentuate the definition of the petals that I like.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Gaillardia Flower
Mode: Manual
Focal Length: 60mm macro (120mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Meadow grasses

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Our garden is sufficiently large that one year we thought we'd turn part of our largest lawn over to meadow. That is to say, we'd stop mowing the section that has the fruit trees, sow and transplant some wild flowers into it and cut it annually with a scythe. We researched the theory and embarked on the project. It turned out that the maintenance of this area of grass was, if not more time-consuming than lawn, certainly harder work when it came to looking after it. The effect in spring and summer was fine, but the appearance after the mowing wasn't good and the disposal of the grass was harder than envisaged. Moreover, some flowers in the meadow succeeded but quite a few failed. So we decided to drastically reduce the area of "meadow", return a big portion back to lawn and see how that fared. The answer was, much better, even though I was back to steering the mower round most of the apple and pear trees once more.

Today's photograph shows some of the grasses in our small area of meadow lit by June sunshine I expect I'll be photographing the dog daisies in it soon, and enjoying the sight of the long grass and flowers swaying in the breeze and July sunshine before I take the scythe to it.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Meadow Grasses
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Manual
Focal Length: 35mm Macro (70mm - 35mm equiv.) crop
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Raindrops in sunlight

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Recently overnight rain was followed by a sunny morning and the glistening foliage of the garden encouraged me to put my old 35mm 3.5 Four Thirds macro lens on its adapter and mount it on the camera. However, even as I walked around searching for a subject the warmth of the sun was visibly drying out the leaves. Consequently I headed for one of our our patches of Lady's Mantle (Alchemilla mollis), a plant that I had been meaning to avoid.

Alchemilla is the obvious choice for any photographer wanting to capture raindrops on foliage. The minute hairs of the leaves cause rain to form into myriad drops of varying sizes. However, I'd taken photographs of the attractively shaped leaves on a number of occasions and I wanted to try a different plant. But the sun's effects elsewhere forced me back to the Alchemilla. So, rather than concentrating on the leaves I searched out the drops themselves. This photograph shows them clustered on the ends of a group of leaves that had yet to fully open. I liked it for the contrast of the dark, shady background against which I could place some drops. The only thing I don't like about the shot is that it has something of the look of a studio photograph taken with flash. I recognise that not everyone shares my antipathy to such things, but for those who do I can assure you that this was taken in natural light, in the garden solely with the aid of a tripod.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Raindrops on Lady's Mantle Leaves
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Manual
Focal Length: 35mm Macro (70mm - 35mm equiv.) crop
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:250
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Eagles, doves and aquilegias

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Sitting in an audience at a lecture about gardening the other evening I heard the speaker describe, aquilegias as "promiscuous". He wasn't, of course, referring to their morals, but to their habit of freely seeding and hybridising, producing offspring of many colours and tints.

I really prefer the name columbines for this plant. However, when talking to other gardeners about it you usually have to add "I mean aquilegias", and so I've come to use the Latin name. This derives from aquila meaning eagle and comes from the shape of the flower petals which were thought to resemble that bird's claw. Columbine comes from the Latin columba, meaning dove. This name is based on the resemblance of the hanging flower head to five doves with their bills touching at the top. It's interesting to note that the two most popular names for this plant relate to the polar opposites of the bird world, the war-like eagle and the peaceful dove. It doesn't end there, of course, because a common, colloquial English name for the plant is "Granny's Bonnet". But that's not something I'm going to delve into.

May is the month for this plant in England and I recently took the opportunity to photograph some of the examples that flower in our garden. When I came to look at my results on the computer I particularly liked the out of focus areas and decided to enhancing these with a blurred, lightened vignette. It's not my usual style but I'm not entirely displeased by the outcome.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 66mm (132mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:800
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Afternoon tea at the Petwood

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I'm a northerner, born and bred. Consequently I have breakfast shortly after I rise - porridge and a cup of tea all year round for me - dinner is what I eat near noon, tea is a meal I consume around five o'clock (teatime) and supper is a small snack and more tea (cup of) an hour or two before bed. I often have a mid-morning cup of coffee or tea and a mid-afternoon cup of tea. The names I give to my mid-day meal and evening meal are not those used in the southern half of England however. In these parts, generally, what I call dinner is called lunch, and my tea is called dinner and is eaten later, perhaps around seven o'clock. Confusingly, in southern England an evening meal is sometimes referred to as supper. The southern way is to have afternoon tea of, perhaps, a cup of tea and a buttered scone to fill the hunger gap between lunch and dinner. These names are not regionally hard and fast because social class differences sometimes cause northern people to adopt the southern terminology. All of which is confusing enough for the natives; it must baffle visitors to our country.

One of my sons and his wife visited recently and while we were out one dull, damp and overcast day we stopped off at Woodhall Spa. In this large village is a memorial in the form of a breached dam that commemorates the members of the RAF's 617 Squadron, "The Dambusters", who gave their lives during the second world war. Since the end of that conflict thirty further members of the squadron have died and a new memorial has recently been unveiled that will commemorate them. Lincolnshire is sometimes known as "Bomber County" because of the large number of airfields that were created here during WW2. Today it continues to be the home of some of the RAF's largest airfields.

After a brief stroll round the streets and a viewing of the memorials we slipped into southern English mode and went to the Petwood Hotel for afternoon tea and cake. This former large house in the Edwardian Elizabethan-cum-Tudor "black and white" style, was built in 1905 for Grace Maple who became Baroness Von Eckhardstein and later Lady Weighall. In the 1930s it became a hotel and during the war it was requisitioned by the RAF as an officers' mess. The building contains much memorabilia from those days when pilots from 617 Squadron (who flew Lancasters) and 627 Squadron (who flew Mosquitoes) based at the newly created airfield of RAF Woodhall Spa spent much of their off-duty time there.

My main photograph shows afternoon tea being taken in one of the Petwood's large, panelled rooms that overlook the extensive gardens that were full of rhododendrons in flower. The smaller photograph shows a view of the building's south elevation seen from near the Round Pool.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fitting in the photography

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Recently my photography and blogging has suffered, having been fitted into a schedule that has involved a lot of travelling and time spent with an ailing family member. Consequently, though there have been one or two outings where photography has been planned, the activity has frequently been something of an afterthought, a shot or two grabbed here and there.

Today's photographs are a case in point. During a day away from home, with a little time on my hands, I looked around the garden in which I was sitting to see if I could snatch a few shots. The metal garden table and chairs with their shadows on the lawn seemed the best available option. Sometimes a self-imposed determination to get a photograph from a particular subject prompts a level of invention that otherwise lays untouched. To the amusement of my companions I circled the furniture, composing shots from every angle. The two shown here are the best of the crop: nothing startling, but pleasing enough in their own way.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: N/A

Back yard or back garden?

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"England and America are two countries separated by a common  language".
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), Irish playwright, critic and activist

The above quotation has been attributed, with subtle variations, to many people including Winston Churchill and Oscar Wilde. However, it seems more likely that Shaw originated it. The point of the quotation being, of course, that although English is spoken in the United States and the United Kingdom, there are slight variations in usage, spelling and pronunciation that render it subtly different and make it obvious from which side of the Atlantic the speaker (or writer) hails.

One such linguistic nonconformity is apparent in the words "back yard". In the UK it generally refers to the small area immediately behind an urban or suburban house, that is the property of that house, that is usually enclosed and which has a wholly or predominantly hard surface. In the United States the words are used to mean any open space behind a house that forms part of the house's property. The UK uses the words "back garden" to describe a mainly lawned or planted area behind the house. In the United States this distinction, as far as I know (please tell me if I'm wrong), is not observed: whether paved, gravelled, grassed or planted, or a combination of any or all of these, it remains the back yard. Does it matter? Not really, because in each country the meaning is understood. Such things merely serve as cultural signifiers and are a small and welcome difference in a world that is slowly gravitating towards uniformity.

Today's photograph shows a back yard in Aldeburgh, Suffolk. The narrow strip behind the blue painted terraced house may once have been a back garden with a path to the rear door. Today it is block-paved with raised beds made of brick, and so has become what I would call a back yard though some may insist it is still a back garden. Regardless of nomenclature the multi-coloured flowers against the painted walls looked bright and cheery in the morning sunshine and so I photographed them.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 58mm
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 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

Police stations new and old

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Ever since I started to take an interest in architectural history, about forty years ago, I've compared buildings. Take town halls. These are invariably made to look imposing and designed to ornament the community in which they are located. They are a visible symbol of civic values and pride. Architectural styles and fashions come and go, and town halls reflect these changes. I've seen excellent town halls, mediocre examples, and some that are downright terrible. You'd think the same would be true of police stations given that they originate from the same public procurement processes. Yet, as far as Britain goes, it's unusual to see a good police station and all too common to see a bad one.This is partly because many date from the period when Britain had a spell of building new, bigger police stations - the late 1960s and 1970s. Examples from this time often exhibit the worse fashion of those years: raw, shuttered concrete, acres of barren paving, grim glass walls, main entrances that are hidden from view, and flat roofs topped by excrescences - lift gear rooms, flag poles and multiple aerials. I remember particularly dour examples in Morecambe and Blackpool, Lancashire.

The other day I came across a police station from a much earlier time, 1847 to be precise. It was in the small Lincolnshire town of Barton upon Humber and it currently serves as the premises of a veterinary surgeon. However, the main entrance doorway boldly proclaims (sans one letter) its original purpose. It is made of brick laid using the Flemish bond (alternating headers and stretchers) with stone dressing round doors and windows and a Welsh slate roof. The main entrance is flanked by windows and at each side a wing projects forwards, single storey on the left, two storey on the right.The building is not, overall, a thing of beauty. But, the section with the main entrance, shown above, has a certain simple charm. What prompted my photograph was the paving, seating and planting, some work of recent years, and the way it complements the symmetry and regularity of the building. As I looked at the building I reflected that the original door would almost certainly not be the strong red that it is today, was more probably dark blue, perhaps black, or some other reserved or muted colour, but definitely benefited from the louder hue.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Come into the garden Maud

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The other day, with a group of friends and neighbours, we visited Harrington Hall in Lincolnshire. This fine country house with six acres of gardens is known for two contrasting reasons. Firstly, in 1991, whilst undergoing renovation, it suffered a devastating fire that caused damage to much of the interior and destroyed the roofs. The building we see today is a careful restoration that still retains parts built by the Copledyke family in the reign of Elizabeth I, the work done from 1673 by Vincent Amcotts, and the extensions of the eighteenth century and later. However, all this has been supplemented by walls, floors, panelling, ceilings etc that are either newly made in the style of the originals, or combine new work with what could be salvaged from the old.

The second well-known reason that people have heard of Harrington Hall is its Tennyson connection. Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), who later became a Lord and the Poet Laureate, was born at the nearby village of Somersby where his father was the rector. It is said that in 1832, at the age of 23, Tennyson met the Baring family who lived at Harrington Hall, and became infatuated by their daughter, Rosa. His later poem ,"Come into the garden Maud" (1855)*, with its theme of an idealistic young man's love for the girl of a wealthy family, is thought to reflect that early episode in his life. The story goes that Tennyson's "High Hall Garden" is based on Harrington's extensive gardens and that the Viewing Terrace (from where my main photograph was taken) features in the poem. There is nothing conclusive linking the location and poem, but all circumstantial evidence, including poems later in life to "Rose" and a shared garden ("Rose, on this terrace fifty years ago, When I was in my June, you in your May..."), suggest that the reference is to his experiences at Harrington.

*  In 1857 Michael Balfe added music to "Come into the garden Maud". In consequence Tennyson's words (slightly modified) became better known through the song than the poem.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm macro
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A mouse's-eye view

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It's said that 99% of photographs are taken from a height of between 5 feet and 6 feet above the ground; that is to say, eye-level. Moreover, in most of those photographs the camera was level, pointing neither up nor down to any great extent. That being the case, one of the easiest things for anyone to do, anyone that is who wants to make his or her photograph stand out from the crowd, is to get either down low, up high, or point the camera upwards or downwards. Of course many enthusiast and professional photographers do this on a reasonably regular basis, but surprisingly many frequently forget this basic strategy. Including me! Apart from the shot of the swan remants I can't think of any photographs I've taken from a low viewpoint (flowers excepted) in recent months.

So, when I came to take a photograph of my wife in what has become a characteristic pose over the past nine weeks - hosepipe in hand, water sprinkling the flower borders and vegetables - I wondered how to give the shot a "different" character. Then I remembered the low viewpoint: what I call the "mouse's-eye view". I set my compact camera to the 16:9 aspect ratio, positioned it above the hosepipe, and used the latter as the leading line taking the viewer's eye to the main subject: simple and reasonably effective. One day, perhaps, I'll have a camera with a tilting LCD and shots of this kind will be easier to compose. With the LX3 I had to lay prone! Fortunately (though unfortunately for farmers and gardeners) everywhere is dry as a bone and I rose from the lawn with trousers and shirt as clean as when I got down.

click photo to enlarge

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hopton's Almshouses, Bermondsey, London

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Here is the Listing text of the Grade II* Hopton's Almshouses on Southwark Street, Bermondsey, London.

Almshouses and committee room. 1746-9. Built by Thomas Ellis and William Cooley to designs of Mr Batterson, trustee of Charles Hopton's will and a builder; house on right rebuilt after war damage; all buildings modernised and re-opened 1988.
MATERIALS: brick with rusticated stone quoins; hipped tiled roof (renewed) with overhanging eaves.
PLAN: forms the central block of a group of (originally) 28 almshouses, ranged around 3 sides of a garden (this block on the eastern side).
EXTERIOR: 2 storeys, each almshouse 2 bays, the central committee room of 3 bays pedimented and slightly projecting. Central entrance has 6-panelled door with timber surround, consoled cornice and foundation tablet above: "Chas. Hopton Esq sole founder of this charity Anno 1752". Entrance flanked by tall sash windows with glazing bars, round-arched with keystoned architraves and bracketed sills. Almshouses have gauged red brick segmental arches to ground-floor openings, sash windows with glazing bars in plain reveals to both floors.
INTERIOR: committee room panelled with shouldered fireplace and heavy overmantel and recessed panels.

Almshouses are charitable buildings, usually for the elderly beyond working age. They are sometimes restricted to a single sex, married couples, by place of birth, previous employment or by religious denomination, depending on the wishes of the original benefactor. Almshouses, some dating back several centuries, can be seen in many towns and cities of Britain. These Georgian examples are set in a garden in Bermondsey and are being slowly surrounded by high-rise buildings.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 250
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cherry leaves

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Autumn, the time of year when the leaves change colour and fall from the trees, the temperature drops and winter coats make an appearance, fieldfares and redwings appear in the hedgerows, the grass is laden with dew and worm casts each morning, and the unsuspecting householder finds a DIY project materialising through the slowly clearing mist!

We've just embarked on the redecoration of our bedroom, so instead of getting out and about with my new camera I've been wielding a brush and scraper and hanging wall-paper. It's at times like this that I'm glad I have a garden because it means that photography doesn't have to come to a complete halt. During our exertions we've been watching the leaves on a couple of the cherry trees as they've changed colour and started to fall. After lunch today I decided to take a short break, got out our tallest pair of step-ladders and climbed up them with my camera to capture a few shots of the reds and yellows of the leaves before a strong wind blows the rest away.

The great temptation with a subject such as this is to take a shot of the whole of the leaf canopy because that's what impresses the eye so much. But this doesn't always work too well as a photograph. So I went for a closeup of a few leaves, using a shallow depth of field to give an out of focus background - a quick, simple and much easier way to produce a reasonable image - or so I think; you might disagree.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 80mm
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fydell House, an armillary sphere and doggerel

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Lincolnshire is justifiably proud of the explorers that it sent out into the world during the eighteenth and early  nineteenth centuries. In earlier posts I have mentioned the discoveries made by George Bass, Matthew Flinders and Sir John Franklin. The other day, during a brief visit to the eighteenth century Fydell House in Boston, a building that to the credit of the town is open to all at no charge, I came across a memorial of sorts to another Lincolnshire man who sailed uncharted waters and set foot where no "Old World" traveller had trodden before.

Sir Joseph Banks (1743-1820), was a landowner with an estate at Revesby in Lincolnshire. He accompanied James Cook, as a naturalist, on that explorer's first circumnavigation, and collected many plants new to science, especially from Australia and the Pacific region. The armillary sphere on a plinth near the end of the garden at Fydell House has a plaque showing that it was unveiled by the High Commissioner for Australia in 1997. This is all absolutely fine - a model of the celestial globe in an eighteenth century garden among the box parterres, classical statues and chinoiserie gate is quite in keeping, and its connection with this famous Lincolnshire man is very apt. Unfortunately, whoever had it put there also added a poem to Banks (by A.M. Cook) that is one of the finest pieces of doggerel to be found this side of William McGonagall. I won't inflict all four verses on you; the first sets the tone perfectly:

In Mr Fydell's garden
Sir Joseph sat at ease
And talked of many travels,
Of ships and Southern seas,
Of coral reefs and wattle,
Of palms and wallabies.

I've photographed this garden before, but never captured anything I was particularly pleased with. The image above isn't perfect by any means, but it's the best I've done. Perhaps it's the composition I like, maybe it's the autumnal trees, or it could be the very satisfying way the little LX3 camera seems to take high dynamic range scenes such as this in its stride with minimal post processing needed.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Box hedges and cottage gardens

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The English cottage garden is a thing of beauty. It features a large variety of traditional flowers planted in beds and borders, against walls and next to fences and hedges: varieties such as hollyhocks, delphinium, rudbeckia, geranium, dianthus, euphorbia, yarrow and rambling roses. Tall species at the back of the border peep over lower plants at the front. Paths of brick, stone, gravel and grass meander through the garden, past the lawns, greenhouse, cold-frames and vegetable plot. Apple and plum trees, together with gooseberry and blackcurrant bushes provide the fruit for pies, bottling and jam. The appearance of this kind of garden is one of control being imposed on gentle disorder.

However, there is a regular addition to the cottage garden that sometimes seems at odds with the overall feel of this kind of planting, and that is the formal box hedge. It has its origins, I suppose, in the disciplined parterres and symmetry of the formal gardens of the sixteenth century, but how and why it found its way into the cottage garden is a mystery to me. Its straight, closely clipped lines and sharp shadows contrast strongly with the riotous drifts of pastel flowers and the anarchic growth of climbing roses. Perhaps that is the point of it in this context - to lend a little formality to the pleasing patchwork and to demonstrate that the gardener can and does exercise control, even though, in some areas it may not look like it!

Today's photograph was taken at Barnsdale Gardens in Rutland, and features in their cottage garden, one of thirty seven small garden layouts that inspire the many visitors who go there each year.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

One approach to gardening

click photo to enlarge

One of the most attractive approaches to gardening can be characterised as "benign neglect": taking a garden that has been laid out in a traditional way and doing enough with it to ensure that it doesn't become an impenetrable thicket, but not so much that the hand of the gardener can be detected. So, trees grow large, shrubs spread, climbers climb, perennials intermingle, and the only annuals to be seen are the self-seeded descendants of those sown under the previous, more organised regime. In spring and summer such a garden is verdant and vigorous, a place where the fit survive in the race for light and life. But in autumn and winter there is often an air of damp, death, decay and dishevelment!

This approach to gardening is not for everyone. If you like order, sharp tidiness, variety, and clear seasonal succession, then "benign neglect" is not for you. But if you have a taste for soft edges, natural planting, shades of green, and sitting in your garden pondering rather than dashing round it grafting, then it's worth considering. Of course you will need to make the occasional foray into the undergrowth, but with a scythe or loppers rather than a hoe or fork. Some tools, such as the rake, will do nothing but gather rust in this kind of garden. Plants that become overgrown will need to be either rescued or left to their fate, however that turns out. So, this is not gardening for the soft-hearted either!

The other day I passed this Victorian house in Boston, Lincolnshire. I don't know whether its owners practise the kind of gardening I've described, but it had that sort of feel when I peered over the ornate gate. The windows were losing the battle against Virginia Creeper and wisteria, and the lawn was long with dandelion blooms and seed heads adding their May time colours. Trees and shrubs were making pools of shade under their arching branches, and weeds were encroaching on the gravel path. In short it was a wild, but attractive, vista. And nothing at all like my garden!!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18mm (36mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On