Early autumn leaves

click photo to enlarge
Autumn is upon us with the leaves of many species of tree starting to change colour. Leaf fall has begun too and our first collection from lawns and gravel can't be too distant. In my garden the flowering cherries are among the earliest to reflect the change that autumn brings, though the maples and silver birches aren't too far behind. The other day I was reflecting that even though, in recent years, the onset of autumn hasn't been marked with quite the dip in temperatures that I remember from, say, twenty or thirty years ago, nonetheless the change in the colour of trees is happening distinctly earlier. Moreover, this is down to a single species - the horse chestnut.

In a post of October 2010 I commented on the impact of the horse chestnut leaf miner moth (Cameraria ohridella) on trees in south-east England and parts of central England: how the burrowing larvae cause leaves to turn brown, become dry and crisp, then fall earlier than they would were the trees not infected. This activity begins in summer, but the way it appears to accelerate the onset of autumnal colour becomes very obvious in late August and September. My photograph of the River Welland and Deeping Gate bridge that I posted a couple of weeks ago features a horse chestnut on the left of the frame exhibiting quite deep browns and oranges due to the activity of this insect pest.  I don't have any data on which to base my opinion, but I have the distinct impression that I'm seeing increasing numbers of horse chestnuts that are affected. Certainly if the trend shown in these maps has continued during the past three years then the damage will be quite widespread across much of England and have made significant inroads in the west and north.

Today's landscape photograph doesn't show a horse chestnut but it does show a carpet of leaves from one that has been affected by the leaf miner (the tree is just out of shot). I took it when I recently spent a few days in the area where Cambridgeshire abuts Bedfordshire and Northamptonshire - in what was once the county of Huntingdonshire. More photographs from that trip coming next.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 13.1mm (35mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hard times for horse chestnuts

click photo to enlarge

The horse chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum) is thought to have been introduced into England in the sixteenth century, probably from its native haunts of south-east Europe. In our country it has rarely been put to any practical use. Early planters were often rich landowners, and they valued its appearance and its seeds which are a source of food for deer. The wood of the tree is soft, white and easily cleft, with no strong heartwood. Consequently it has few uses apart from firewood or cheap boxes, and its great popularity stems from its value in ornamental planting. Its majestic shape and size, the big, "fingered" leaves, the "candle" flowers of spring, and the prickly seeds with their mahogany coloured seeds (conkers) are the reason for it being so widely seen across our islands. It is found in parkland and on playing fields, along streets, on village greens, in copses and clumps, and intermingled in woodland, a delight for children and adults alike.

The photograph above shows an avenue of horse chestnuts at Kirby Hall, Northamptonshire. It was planted by the county's Girl Guide Association in 1935 to commemorate the Silver Jubilee of George V. A typical autumn photograph you might think, the conkers littering the drive, the leaves turning brown and orange. But all is not quite as idyllic as it looks. Those conkers are small, have fallen early, and the leaves shouldn't be quite so shrivelled and brown on the first couple of days of October. In years gone by they would be a multicoloured display of green, yellow, orange, red and brown. The reason for their premature fall and crisp, dark appearance is the horse chestnut leaf miner moth (Cameraria ohridella). The scourge of this species advanced rapidly across Europe, and was first detected in Britain in Wimbledon, London in July 2002. Since then it has spread throughout much of southern and central England as is advancing northwards and westwards at a rate of 40-60km a year. Unlike bleeding canker, the other principal disease of the horse chestnut, a leaf miner moth infestation is not terminal, merely an aesthetic problem. Nonetheless, research is being undertaken to try and control the disease.

My photograph was taken with the camera somewhere below the level of my knees. I felt the need to get away from shots taken from eye level.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Is the world becoming more colourful?

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The world was sepia in the nineteenth century, black and white up to about 1950, coloured (in a contrasty sort of way) for the next fifty years, and since about 2000 and the more general take-up of digital cameras, colourful in a more saturated way. At least that's what visitors from another planet could be forgiven for concluding if they were to view Earth solely through the medium of photography.

It's never been true to say that "the camera never lies". In fact, it's more accurate to say that it ALWAYS lies. As far as colour fidelity in photography goes the interesting question is whether the departure from the truth as our eyes see it is as a result of technological deficiencies or deliberate manipulation. It's generally correct to say that the periods of sepia and black and white photography were a consequence of, initially, the absence of a colour process, and thereafter, the cost of it for the average photographer: only when it had become affordable did colour become widespread. The colours produced by prints and slides of the second half of the twentieth century varied enormously. The make of film, the type of processing, the condition of the chemicals used in processing, and several other factors affected the final output. A lot of the prints were contrasty, with sometimes lurid colours, whilst others were (by the design of the film as well as the desire of the photographer) nearer to reality. But then (as now), the tonal range captured by the cameras and produced by the printing methods available, was not as wide as that seen by the average eye.

Today it is common to see "serious" photographers lamenting the over-saturated colours in photographs produced by amateurs and many enthusiasts and professionals. I've done it myself. However, this phenomenon pre-dates the digital revolution. A photograph that has brighter, deeper colours than nature provides catches our eye, has more impact. And yes, I've sometimes tweaked colours for that reason. Consequently magazines, television, film and web images have used this fact to attract readers and viewers. Today we seem to have reached the point where some people question, or are disappointed by, an image that shows anything approahing the true colours of grass, trees, sky, etc. Camera manufacturers have seized on this by offering "saturated" colour mode alongside "natural". Some go a step further and sell their models with the colour of the "natural" setting already boosted in order to make it appeal to the buyer, and have the "saturated" setting should that not prove sufficuently intense. Many cameras also have a "sunset" mode that increases the reds and oranges when you take your shot as the sun slips over the horizon!

But there is another important reason why colours are often "wrong", and that is the difficulty in matching the the hues and saturation of the elements that produce today's photographs - the camera sensor, camera LCD, computer screen and printed image. It is just about possible to achieve a match, but is extremely difficult. Sometimes what looks like a deliberate over-saturated print is simply the result of someone finally calling an end to their labours and saying, "That's as close as I can get it!"

Today's reflection was prompted by my Evening photography blog piece of the other day, and the subdued colours of the horse chestnut tree and Cambridge colleges in the photograph above. The colours of the tree and buildings are as close to reality as I can make them. However, I know that if I printed the shot the colours would be slightly different, and probably more saturated than I'm seeing on screen. Of course, what YOU are seeing on your screen will be slightly different again. But that's a subject for a different (and slightly shorter!) post.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Horse chestnuts and water babies

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When I was a boy autumn was the time of year for gathering the seeds of the horse chestnut tree, known to children throughout Britain as "conkers". Of course part of the fun of childhood is anticipation, and as August turned into September, and the growing, green, spiky shells that held the coveted conkers became visible high in the trees, we could often wait no longer for them to fall to earth. So, armed with short, stout sticks we went to where the favoured trees grew and hurled our pieces of wood, aiming to knock the conkers down, remove them from their shells and carry off our trophies to be hardened, skewered, strung and used in our playground game.

The trouble was, the first conkers we knocked down were often not ready, and instead of being glossy brown were white or skewbald. Those that fell due to the wind or ripeness were invariably the biggest, brownest and best, but that meant waiting until the end of September and often into October - and small boys hate to wait.

The group of trees where we usually gathered our conkers grew in a row by a public footpath, and one of the rites of passage for boys in my Yorkshire Dales market town was to learn to distinguish between the trees that were "good uns" and those that were "water babies" (this name pronounced in Dales-speak with "a" sounded as in cat!) The latter were conkers that were small, remained white, never hardened, and were soft because they were full of a watery liquid. Their shells were a duller green/brown, and they had fewer (often no) prickles, compared with the big, spiky light green shells of the good uns. Another distinguishing feature was the leaves. They had the big "fingers" characteristic of the tree, but these were usually smaller, less vigorous, and as the autumn progressed they coloured in a different way to the favoured trees.

The other day, as I walked near Aswarby in Lincolnshire, I came across a group of horse chestnut trees, and noted with surprise that every one was a water baby. Why, I wondered (temporarily rolling back the years) would anyone want to plant such trees? Near the front of my house is a row of horse chestnut trees by a stream, and, I'm glad to say, each one is a "good un"! So, today I present, for your edification and delectation images of leaves from these locations, with the good un first and the water baby second.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Photo1 (Photo 2)
Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 79mm (158mm/35mm equiv.):(150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.))
F No: f4.7 (f5.6)
Shutter Speed: 1/800 (1/640)
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On