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

Getting to know the willow

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It wasn't until I had willow trees growing in and adjoining my garden that I really got to know them. One of the first expansions of my knowledge of Salix alba came about when I looked out of my bedroom window one morning and saw that overnight winds had brought down a huge branch. It was flattening a section of ten feet high conifer hedge, had bent a bay tree down to the ground, crushed a shrub border and gouged the lawn. It took four of us most of the day to cut it up with a chainsaw and remove it. Prior to that event I had heard this tree called "crack" willow: now I understood why it had been given the name. The countless small leaves had acted like a sail in the wind that had forced the limb from the tree where it forked. Evidence of the rending crack could be seen on its trunk.

But, the fact is, the willow tree has many endearing habits and I like it. In winter its slender new branches glow reddish-orange in the yellow-tinged light. In March it is one of the earliest trees to come into leaf, a real sign that spring is on the way. The sight of the branches of a willow swaying in the summer breeze, like tresses of long hair, is an arboreal phenomenon that is hard to beat. Birds, large and small love willow trees for the nest sites it offers and the insects that abound in it. As a garden screen the willow tree has few deciduous equals because it carries its leaves for such a long period of time. However, that advantage brings with it some of the tree's disadvantages. It loses leaf through most months of the year so if a tidy garden is your idea of a good garden then it isn't the tree for you. Moreover, the leaf loss is accompanied by long, slender, whippy twigs so composting the gathered leaves becomes more difficult. And then there is that late leaf drop in autumn (or rather early winter). A couple of weeks after you've cleared up most of the deciduous leaves from lawns and flower beds in late November the willow decides its time to shed its leaves too. This is usually in early December. In fact, after completing this blog post collecting up the carpet of willow leaves brought down by yesterday's high winds is my next job!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17.8mm (48mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fallen leaves and Blogger colour

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Over the years I've been generally quite happy with Blogger, the Google-owned service that provides the blogging platform I use. It is free, easy to operate, easy to adapt, doesn't require me to host advertisements and it is very reliable. It has fewer bells and whistles than Wordpress, a blogging service I use for a different site, but overall I prefer Blogger for the reasons listed: it does all I require.

However, a while ago something happened to the way that my photographs were displayed. Instead of showing just as I had prepared them, as soon as I uploaded them the colours became over-saturated. I take a lot of care in preparing my images and the last thing I wanted was for them to glow with artificially bright colour. I searched to see if there was a reason for this but came up with nothing. So I muted the colours of the shots I posted hoping to compensate for what was happening. It did somewhat ameliorate the effect, but I wanted an answer to why it was happening and a better solution. A search some time later turned up the answer. At a point I couldn't determine Google's Picasa photograph hosting had been placed under the wing of Google+. A feature of these galleries is that photographs there are always made brighter because Google in its wisdom has a feature called Auto Enhance turned on by default. Why? I can only think that they assume people like the "vivid" or "saturated" look of TV, magazines and some phones and cameras. Well, many don't, and so I looked for a way to turn it off. After much searching I discovered that the only way to do so was to join Google+. I was not happy with that at all because I've deliberately ignored all the social media services for reasons I won't go into here. But, Blogger is free, I pay nothing for it so I can demand nothing of it. I had no choice but to sign up to Google+. I did with bad grace and in a minimal manner. I then turned off Auto Enhance, found all was well, and I now carry on as I was, and ignore Google+. At some point I intend to find out if I can exit from it without Auto Enhance turning back on again.

I was reminded of all this when I took today's photograph of fallen acer leaves we came across in Lincoln. When I looked at the camera screen after I'd taken my shot I showed it to my wife. The colours weren't saturated, they were unnaturally muted! I assume the white balance was wrong. But I was out shopping and photographing only incidentally so rather than change it until I got it right I made a mental note of the brightness of everything and went on my way. I was glad I did because when we came to the fallen willow leaves the camera recorded the colours perfectly. Go figure!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Crowland willows and cyclists

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"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

One from the vaults

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Recently I've been feeling, as a television advertisement of yesteryear used to say, "one degree under". It's nothing of great significance, but set against my usual healthy self, it's an unwelcome change that probably accounts for my recent photography being more sporadic than usual and somewhat uninspired. So I've done what I often do in these circumstances and trawled though the vaults for a few shots worthy of posting.

Today's was taken in February last year in the Wellhead Gardens at Bourne, Lincolnshire. It shows willow branches and their reflections in one of the stretches of water that run through the small public park. It's a shot that I like for the semi-abstract effect produced by the soft, water-colour, cloud reflections overlaid with the veil of dark, delicate, almost ink-like lines of the slender willow branches. The subtle range of colours and the difficulty of working out what is real and what is reflected also appeals to me. Reflections in water are a recurring theme in my photographs, one I never tire of, but which I suppose is an acquired taste.

If you do like this photograph you may wonder how it got overlooked or left behind. There are a few reasons. Sometimes the rate of my photography is such that I move on to the most recent crop of images before I've exhausted the previous one. On other occasions the time of year changes, and I do like to reflect the seasons in the shots I post. I also like to ring the changes over the course of a week or so, so sometimes I forsake a shot because it has too many characteristics of one I've recently used. And finally, I'm sometimes just plain careless and don't properly notice an image that I think is good enough to be posted. Today's falls into the latter category.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sorting out the salixes

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Like many people I have a deep curiosity about the natural and man-made world around me. I like to know why things are as they are, what things are called, what differentiates them etc. My curiosity knows, almost, no bounds. However, there are some aspects of the natural world about which I have a long-term confusion.

For example, despite my early deep interest and lingering, life-time less deep interest in bird life, I still have some difficulty differentiating the less common waders. The fact that their plumage can be very similar and that it often differs according to the age of the bird or the season doesn't make the task easy. The same is true of the many varieties of willow tree that can be found growing in the Britain. In my garden I have a large white willow tree (Salix alba) of the weeping variety growing next to a stream. In fact, it's not quite as large as it was. Just over a year ago I had it pollarded because it was outgrowing its space. It's a very common and distinctive tree that has either an upright habit or a pendulous (weeping) habit. That's the Salix variety I have no trouble identifying. However, when it comes to the Goat Willow (or Sallow), the Eared Willow, the Grey Willow, the Creeping Willow, the Caspian Willow, the Common Osier, the Crack Willow and the Bay-Leaved Willow I confess to being lost. I know they exist, I know something of where they are found and the uses to which they can be put. But, I can't distinguish them one from the other. It's not just that many of them are quite similar (some are distinctive), it's that I haven't really committed to studying and learning the differences.

So, I've set myself the task of increasing my knowledge of this group of trees and working out how to identify them. I don't imagine I'll unravel them all, but if I could distinguish the commoner varieties I'd be very happy. It was photographing the trees above by the raised bank of the River Welland near Crowland in Lincolnshire that triggered my determination to do this. As far as these three go I can say what they're not, but not what they are. I think they are a variety of willow, but I may be wrong. So, I've been reading up on the subject, learning about each willow's winter, leafless silhouettes and the characteristics of their leaves and flowers. The warmer weather will find me out and about, testing my knowledge and photographing them. Roll on spring!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO: 100
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