Pollarded willows

click photo to enlarge
In the middle of the Lincolnshire town of Bourne is a large, grassed open space with some stretches of water, trees and bushes. It looks like a municipal park and it is - the war memorial is sited there as is a children's playground, benches and tarmac paths. However, there are also a couple of quite old, stone-built buildings - an early C18 farmhouse and barn - and, at the edge of the area a building that was once a working water mill fed by a stream. There are also odd undulations that hint at what was formerly here and accounts for such a large area being undeveloped.

The mounds mark the site of an eleventh century motte and bailey castle that appears to have had two large enclosures. Some of the remaining areas of water must have fed defensive moats. However, the motte has gone and it is hard to discern the parts of the Norman site that must have been built to control the area after the Conquest. Recreational use has led to the planting of plentiful willows, the water-side sites being ideal for this species. However, willows in parks can present problems - they weren't called "crack willows" for nothing - and many have been pollarded to control their spread and remove high, heavy boughs that were seen as potential dangers.

Todays' photograph shows some of these pollarded willows reflected in one of the stretches of water. Immediately after they have been cut such willows look rather ungainly compared with their elegant uncut neighbours. But, as the boughs thicken and the the shape returns they look much better. These, I thought, looked somewhat sinister reflected in the water with a broken sky above.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Pollarded Willows, Bourne, Lincolnshire
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 25mm (50mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Crowland willows and cyclists

click photo to enlarge
"He that plants trees loves others besides himself."
Thomas Fuller (1654 1734), English physician and writer

When I took today's photograph I was concentrating on achieving a composition that included the line of pollarded willows and the fast approaching pair of cyclists. The sunny afternoon was reason enough to stop off at Crowland on the Lincolnshire Fens, and I gravitated towards this particular place just outside the village because I'd photographed here before without any great success. A distant walker proved to be too far away to be useful to the composition I wanted, so I asked my wife to walk ahead to provide the human interest that I felt the shot needed. However, as she did so the cyclists came into view and I had just enough time to change lenses, raise the camera to my eye and fire off a few shots before they whizzed past me with a few cheery words. I'm reasonably pleased with the outcome, despite the road being dotted with freshly fallen soil from a tractor and plough that passed a couple of minutes earlier, and a little of the water-tower showing against the sky.

It wasn't until I brought the photograph up on my computer that I looked really carefully at the line of trees. And, when I did so, the quotation above by Thomas Fuller immediately came to mind. Whoever planted the large willows in this row by the side of the water (just visible on the extreme left) must have had a vision of what it would achieve and the public spirit to offer it to future generations, because, as Fuller's quote implies, trees take a long time to come to maturity and full beauty, and this is frequently after the planter has shuffled off this mortal coil. But, my photograph revealed more. In between the old trees are newly planted youngsters that must be the next-generation-in-waiting. Clearly someone else has an eye to the future of this location too, knows that the existing trees have limited lives, and have generously planted knowing that it won't be them who sees the trees when they reach their full beauty.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Well and truly wireless

click photo to enlarge

Normal service is now resumed! The reason for my recent absence is connected with today's photograph, though I must reassure anyone with a fertile imagination that I am still in possession of all my limbs. However, the pruning of my very large willow tree, despite it being done with great skill, care and attention, resulted in my telephone line being severed, and the absence of the umbilical cord connecting me to the wider world stemmed my flow of blog posts. But, as the old saying goes, "it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good", and during my period of purdah I did some more photography, delved deeper into my photo processing software, and tinkered a touch with the way I present each image. I thought I'd give the "matted" look a try for a while.

As far as the willow goes, my magnificent arching tree that supported a wealth of wildlife and cast shade over the stream, a lawn and a border, has been turned into a sculpture resembling a gnarled, upturned arm and hand: something that looks like an entry for the Turner Prize rather than an arboreal delight. I reconcile myself to the loss by reflecting that it won't be long before it starts to produce shoots and leaves, and its reinvigorated growth will soon make it a fine specimen once more. Of all trees, willow is one of the hardest to keep down.

My photograph shows a contractor shaping one of the willow's main boughs.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 191mm
F No: 7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Pollarding

click photo to enlarge

I've just arranged for a large willow tree to be trimmed. It stands next to the stream at the edge of my garden, and is somewhere near as big as a willow gets. The decision to have some weight cut from its top wasn't taken lightly, but it seemed to be a better course of action than letting the wind break off boughs or, worse still, topple the whole tree. The contractor estimated that it was last trimmed ten to twelve years ago -  a mark of how quickly a willow will regenerate itself. The term he used was "pollarding", though the cutting we agreed is less drastic than what I envisage when I think of that term.

Pollarding in its true form is the regular cutting of a tree eight to twelve feet above ground level so that it grows again and produces successive crops of wood. This self-renewing power of trees was harnessed for centuries by woodsmen, and most trees were managed by either coppicing or pollarding. In coppicing, a technique that was applied to ash, wych elm and many other species, the tree was cut down and the stump (called the "stool") was allowed to send out shoots that grew into poles that were cropped every nine or ten years. Where animals grazed among the trees pollarding was favoured. The permanent trunk (called the "bolling") sprouted new growth above the height that they could reach. Because it is more labour intensive than coppicing it was favoured in woodland pastures and non-woodland areas, but not for the interiors of woods. Willow, poplar and several other types of tree were regular recipients of pollarding.

My photograph shows a row of pollarded poplars that form part of the boundary to a vegetable packing site. Presumably they were planted to screen the premises, and were cut because they were deemed to be too tall. I came upon them on a dark, heavily overcast afternoon. My image has been converted to black and white then given a slight sepia cast.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: 7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On