Jack Frost

click photo to enlarge
"Look out, look out,
Jack Frost is about,
He's after our fingers and toes,
And all through the night
The gay little sprite
Is working where nobody knows.

He’ll climb each tree,
So nimble is he,
His silvery powder he’ll shake.
To windows he’ll creep
And while we’re asleep
Such wonderful pictures he’ll make.

Across the grass
He’ll merrily pass,
And change all its greenness to white.
Then home he will go
And laugh ho, ho ho!
What fun I have had in the night."
children's poem by C. E. Pike

On more than one occasion recently, when talking to friends of my sort of age, the subject of ice on windows has cropped up. Most people who grew up in the United Kingdom in the 1950s, and even the 1960s, unless they were very well-off or raised in modern houses, remember waking up on cold winter mornings to find ice on the inside of their single-glazed bedroom windows. It's something that my children find barely credible, and yet we thought nothing of it: that's just the way it was, and we appeared to be none the worse for it. Of course, it's not something I'd like to return to, and it's a phenomenon that these days I rarely see anywhere. But I did the other morning.

As I stood at the kitchen window watching the birds eating the seed and scraps that I'd put out for them I noticed my unheated greenhouse (glasshouse) was iced up. At a distance it looked like the ice had formed the sort of feathery patterns that I remember from my childhood. So, I grabbed the LX3 and went to investigate. There were patterns, and they were best seen from inside the greenhouse. Those on the roof were the most elaborate and, remarkably, each pane of roof glass had a quite different pattern. Some were more foliage-like, in a very William Morris chintz way, others resembled feathers that were either very fluffy or quite sparse. I took a few shots then I found one feathery pane with good contrast and light that displayed the patterns in a way that the camera could better record - see above.

The other thing I remember from these cold childhood mornings is my mother reciting the first few lines of the "Jack Frost" poem (above) as she pointed out the frost patterns. I know some schools still teach these verses to young children, but do parents? Perhaps there is less cause now that central heating and cars have all but banished the "wonderful pictures" and the need to experience cold from our lives.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Glasshouse patterns

click photo to enlarge
It's great fun to search for repeating patterns that you feel will make successful photographs. Man-made objects, especially buildings, involve a lot of repetition, so if you live in a city or a relatively urban area it's much easier to make photographs in this way. I've used columns and shadows, cafe chairs, rusty corrugated metal, industrial buildings, and other objects to make photographs of this sort that please me.

But, if you live in the countryside, such photographs are harder to find. The other day I posted a picture of a disc harrow that involved repeating elements. I've also photographed soil ridges in a newly planted potato field and new rural housing, but subjects with these qualities have been pretty difficult find. However, the other day, whilst walking near Quadring I came upon a very large glasshouse that seemed to offer patterns to exploit. I think if the repetition had merely been the verticals of the aluminium frame and the zig-zag roofline I'd have passed it by. I find that shots involving repetition generally have to have a degree of complexity, or a detail that breaks the pattern, otherwise they can be boring. The part that really drew my eye here was the shadows that produced diagonals slanting across the verticals. These, combined with the contrasty bright colours that the day and the structure produced, caused me to fire off a few shots. This one is the pick of my glasshouse crop!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 110mm (220mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Greenhouse emergency!

click photo to enlarge

I've been involved in a few unusual emergencies in my time. Many years ago, when I was working in a school, I received a message from the teacher in charge of its nursery that catered for children aged 2-4 years - "Please come across immediately - we have a serious problem and we need your help." I found someone to look after the children I was with, and dashed over with some trepidation about what I was going to find. My worries were unfounded - no broken limbs or crushed fingers. It turned out that a large, black, bulbous-eyed goldfish in the children's fish tank had been sucking up stones to eat the moss off them and had got one stuck in its mouth! It was swimming around looking very silly, but quite unconcerned, with its jaws forced open by its unintended mouthful. The children were following its every circuit of the tank, and several were close to tears, very worried that it would die - either quickly by drowning (!), or slowly, for lack of food. I knew I had to act decisively, and give a semblance of looking like I knew what I was doing! So taking out my trusty Swiss Army penknife, I unfolded the gimlet spike, reached into the water, chased and eventually grabbed the unfortunate fish, then, placing the spike between the back of its mouth and the stone - flicked. The stone plopped out, the fish was returned to the water, and I left with the cheers of the children ringing in my ears, the hero of the day! On another occasion I was called to extricate a six year old school pupil who had contrived to get a chair stuck around her waist. But that tale can wait for another occasion.

Yesterday the most recent unusual emergency arose. I'd spent the previous couple of days helping my friends to erect a greenhouse (glasshouse), and we'd left it standing on its concrete base at the end of the day. However, extremely strong winds arose during the night and continued through the morning, to the point where the heavy glass and aluminium structure was pushed horizontally, and started to move off its base. Then one corner started to come unbolted, and I made a mercy dash to help them prevent our work coming catastrophically apart. With the help of a passing animal transporter, then a tractor, strategically positioned to break the force of the wind, the situation was redeemed without a single pane of glass being broken. Much of the rest of the day was then spent fixing the structure to its concrete base.

Today's photograph shows a relieved owner (with reflected husband and yours truly) surveying the re-positioned and secured greenhouse at the end of work after night had fallen. I took a photograph of the scene inside because the bright work light gave some strikingly unusual reflections. The shot was hand held, utilising every contrivance to secure a sharp image, and, all things considered, it came out pretty well I think.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/5
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On