Another Fenland sunrise

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I grew up among the hills, mountains and valleys of the Yorkshire Dales. In recent years, since we moved to the flat Lincolnshire Fens, when I reveal the place of my childhood I frequently get asked whether I miss the uplands. And the answer I give is "Yes and no". Yes, because unlike many of my contemporaries, I enjoyed the landscape, settlements, communities, wildlife etc. No, because I got fed up with the rain that falls steadily across many, many days rather than in large amounts with long spells of drier weather between. No too, because I like to experience living in different localities for reasonable lengths of time, something I've done during my life, and the Fens is different from anywhere else I've lived.

When people ask me about the Fenland landscape, at some point I start eulogising the skies. Lincolnshire is famed for its "big skies", and I take great pleasure in the changing displays that are always taking place above my head. In the depths of winter I particularly relish the sunrises that I see when I open our bedroom curtains. I posted a shot of one a while ago, and here is another from a couple of days ago. The intense colours filled the sky for only four or five minutes and then they slowly quietened down as the sun climbed fully above the horizon. And, though I've seen such sunrises many times, each time is as thrilling as the first time, and I can't resist photographing it.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photograph Title: A Fenland Village Sunrise
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20mm (40mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.3
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Rose-coloured clouds

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"What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives."
E. M. Forster (1879-1970), English novelist

Some people find it hard to look forward to retiring from work because for them it signifies the beginning of the end of their lives, something they don't want reminding about. It can be just that if you let it, if you are one of the many people for whom the three stages of life are childhood and education, work, and lastly retirement. However, retirement can also be seen as a distinct, fulfilling, exciting time, one where each day offers experiences and opportunities that work in particular, often reduced to brief episodes, but more usually denied.

The quotation by E. M. Forster (above) is one that I like because it emphasises the importance and beauty of everyday experiences, phenomena that are too often overlooked because they are common. Moreover, the things that he itemises are those that work can relegate to the infrequent and the snatched, to the periphery of life. Retirement can, if you so wish it, bring them (and many other everyday pleasures) back to the centre of your existence and the joys that they offer can be life enriching.

In my working life I rose quite early and returned home quite late; I had long days. Getting up in the morning I would often speed through ablutions and breakfast and be gone. There was no time to do what I do daily in retirement: namely, open the curtains and look at the day and reflect on how I might fill it. Or admire the frosted grass, the autumnal leaves, the light fall of snow or the rose-coloured clouds of a fine sunrise. The sky in today's photograph appeared for only five or so minutes before I sat down for breakfast. Had I been working I probably wouldn't have noticed it. But, in retirement I got my camera and took a few shots of the beautiful sight.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 22mm (44mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Quirky portraits

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I used to take more portrait photographs than I do now. When our children were younger and lived with us they were very frequent subjects for my camera, as was my wife. Today I still take photographs of our children (and their significant others), and photographs of my wife are regular occurrences too, but in total numbers they are fewer than formerly. However, and perhaps understandably, our grand-daughter is the person I have photographed most in the past couple of years.

Good portrait photography has substance and value. And, though I appreciate and admire a well-done, insightful and inventive portrait, it's not a branch of photography that I've ever wanted to make a regular part of my photography: at least not to the extent of widening out beyond immediate family members. However, I do rather like constructing the occasional quirky portrait or self-portrait. This blog features more than a few of those - for example this one or perhaps this one, both of my wife, or this one of me. I suppose it's because I enjoy the creative challenge involved in imagining and constructing shots of this sort that I pursue them rather more than the formal portrait.

One recent morning I noticed the rising sun shining through the textured glass of our back door. Its deep orange yellow next to the blue of the sky were an appealing colour combination. So, when my wife returned from completing a chore outside, I asked her to pose on the other side of the glass, one hand resting on the door, and I took a  couple of shots. I'm quite pleased with the outcome. I like the colours and the way the glass transforms her into a generalised, impressionistic figure. When we moved into our house I wasn't particularly keen on the pattern of this glass. However, I've used it in photographs a couple of times so it clearly has its uses even if I still don't think it has much intrinsic appeal.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 55mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Early morning light

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As I said in one of my early posts on this blog, I'm a morning person. Of all the times of day the morning is the one that I value most. It seems to hold in its grasp the promise of the day to come, to have a freshness that afternoon and evening cannot match, and the first light of the day is incomparable. It has been said that if you want to take photographs that catch the viewer's eye, then go out with your camera in the early morning. If the sun is present, with or without clouds in attendance, its low angle allows you to make silhouettes, add drama, and simplify your images. Those three things are important in making your photographs noticeable. Often when you include the sun in the image the results are not quite what your eyes see, and can be quite unpredictable, but that's part of the fun!

The other day I strode out into the snowy morning just as the sun was rising. The temperature was -8.5 Celsius but there was no wind, and the crispness of the air was matched by the sharpness of the light. I set off down a lane that I don't use very much, largely because it holds less visual interest than others that I favour. However, at this time of day it allowed me to walk towards the rising sun. Hares scattered as I walked along, their feet throwing up powdered snow as they dashed away, and I stopped periodically to frame trees against the ever brightening sun. The photograph above is one of the best I took. It's not much of a subject, but for me (though maybe not for everyone!) it demonstrates the power of light to transform the ordinary into the interesting or extraordinary. I liked this one because as I progressed down the lane a bank of fog made an appearance, and it added a diffuse quality to the image that contrasts with the the harder outlines of the branches.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reeds at sunrise

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Reeds were once one of the dominant plants of the Lincolnshire Fenlands. Around the margins of permanent meres and seasonal pools the Phragmites australis grew tall and lush. Reed and sedge warblers churred their coarse song perched on its stalks; moorhen, water rail, bittern and heron stalked around its roots, eating the plentiful insects, fish, and frogs; and water voles and other small mammals built their homes among them. During the Middle Ages the reeds provided a valuable roofing material, and thatched cottages can still be found so covered, though today they are more likely to use Norfolk reeds or straw.

The draining of the Fens and the turning over of the land to arable agriculture saw a drastic reduction in the acreage of reed beds. Today, with a few exceptions such as wildlife reserves, reeds are most commonly seen lining the natural and artificial streams and dykes that criss-cross the fields. Here, on a more limited scale, they still offer sanctuary to wildlife, and on my walks I regularly see sedge warblers, reed buntings, little egrets and other birds amongst them. In the early evening I can watch barn owls patrolling the grid of reed-lined water-ways, hoping to surprise a water vole, shrew or mouse: occasionally marsh harriers can be observed doing the same during daylight hours.

The character of reeds changes over the year. In spring and summer they are a fine, fresh green, but in autumn they turn a khaki brown. Some - for reasons not known to me - have a quite strong orange colour in October and November. Today's photograph shows reeds by the side of a stream near my house. I photographed them on a cold December morning shortly after the sun had risen, catching their delicate silhouettes against the clouds that were tinged with pink, orange and yellow.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.4mm (35mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Too near the sun

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Daedalus was exiled to Crete because he gave Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos, the string that Theseus used to escape from the Labyrinth and the Minotaur. So, being a master craftsman, he came up with an escape plan that involved fashioning pairs of wings of wax and feathers for himself and his son, Icarus. However, the rashness of youth caused Icarus to spurn his father's advice and, flying too near to the sun, the wax melted causing the feathers to fall off the wings, and the rash boy to plunge to his death in the Mediterranean. In so doing he sparked a metaphor about "venturing too close to the sun" that has been pressed into service by writers down the ages.

I thought about this as I looked at my shot of some old sheds on Lincolnshire's flat Fenland landscape. An overnight frost and fog was being illuminated by the rising sun, and I tried to include some of the colours I could see being produced as the rays penetrated the cold air. However, I think I ventured too close to the sun and pink that I don't think figured in the colours of the sky, was introduced into the shot, perhaps by the light bouncing around the lens elements. However, I quite like the effect, and see it as an artifact of the photographic process akin to flare, noise or reduced dynamic range.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

What's in a name?

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I've always found the sources of personal names interesting, particularly those chosen for girls. Flowers have produced Rose, Violet, Heather (and Erica), Daisy, Briony, Iris and many more. Biblical names like Rachel, Rebecca and Sharon have proved popular. So too have three consecutive months of the year - April, May and June - though none of the others are favoured: I wonder why? Jewels and semi-precious stones have been pressed into service - Pearl, Ruby, Beryl, Coral, Amber, Jade etc - though they don't appear to be in fashion at the moment. Colours have sometimes made an appearance as in Blanche (white), Electra and Amber (amber), Flavia (yellow), Aurelia (gold) and Melanie (black).

Names that derive from stars (the outer space variety - Hollywood's effect is too well-known) include Estelle, Stella, Astra and Esther. However, only one time of day is widely used for a girl's name, and that, strangely, is Dawn (and its variations - Aurora, Oriana and Roxana). Now there's nothing wrong with naming a girl after the dawn: it's a fine and special time of day. But is it really better than sunrise and sunset, neither of which get a look in as far as names go despite being the most spectacular times of day? And what about midday (or noon), midnight and twilight? What precludes them from being used for this purpose? And if dawn is OK, why isn't dusk?

All these questions bounced around my head as I processed this shot taken from the bottom of the garden the other morning. Should I caption it "dawn" or "sunrise" I wondered? It was cold and frosty when I took the photograph, but the not-quite-yet-revealed sun's fiery colours gave an illusion of warmth. I was tempted to leave the sky clear to show off the rose-tinted clouds, but eventually decided that I preferred the shot with the silhouette of the branch at the top of the frame. And, as you see, I settled on "sunrise"!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On