Thatched cottage, Deeping St James

This unusually small thatched cottage (named Clematis Cottage) stands by the road in Deeping St James, Lincolnshire. It sits uncomfortably next to a taller, later neighbour, with a narrow space between the two buildings to allow maintenance work on the walls. Like many thatched or timber-framed buildings it has a brick chimney for safety, this one relatively tall and braced with a strip of metal. The keystone/datestone shows it to have been built in 1819 using local stone featuring the area's "signature" courses of irregular width. The thatch has wire netting over it to lessen the impact of weather and birds. Access to the back of the cottage is via the gate which is probably shared with the adjacent neighbour. There appears to be a (necessary these days) extension and I wouldn't be surprised if the narrow plot stretches back quite a way.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus E510   2009

Sunlit blinds

Sometimes the transformative effect of directional light on everyday objects turns them into something that causes you to stop, stare and see them as if for the first time. So it was with these wooden Venetian blinds in our bathroom. The sun was shining through figured obscure glass throwing swirling lines and shadows onto the repeated flat surfaces, giving them qualities absent in flatter light.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus E510   2009

Funfair, Skegness

On the second day of the new year in 2011 we visited Skegness in Lincolnshire. Winter at a traditional (i.e. tourist/commercial) seaside has always had an appeal for me. The silent funfairs and piers, the out of place colours and the locked up amusement arcades offer off-season note of melancholy that somehow appeals. This photograph, taken with my back to the sea, benefitted enormously from the dark sky that accentuated the bright colours of the roller coaster, big wheel, lights and shelters.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Canon 5D Mk2     2011

Sheep in shade

On a walk that took in paths in and around the woodland known as Penyard Park we came upon meadows and fields of maize and wheat. Climbing the stile out of one of the latter we stepped down into a pasture holding a large flock of sheep which, despite the extensive nature of the field, were tightly packed in the shade of a large oak tree. The day was hot and humid with clouds and long periods of sunshine, the sort that invites sitting or laying out of the sun and the sheep were all of that mind. As we approached a few stood up, thinking to get out of our way, so we gave them a wider berth not wishing to spoil their pleasure.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Lumix FZ1000 2

Pink Panda

When we first encountered the ornamental strawberry "Pink Panda" we researched its characteristics. We found that it is low growing, produces small, insignificant fruit, bears flowers from May to November, has strawberry-like green leaves, and is regarded as difficult. All bar the last quality are desirable, and in our our experience all those qualities, bar the last, are true. It certainly isn't difficult to grow and it spreads quite quickly through runners, just like all strawberries. Fortunately it is easy to control and consequently we like growing this pretty little plant for the colour that it adds to the garden through late spring, summer and autumn.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus OMD E-M10

Front doors, Fleetwood

In 2006, when this photograph was taken, I worked in Fleetwood, Lancashire. It was a visually interesting place with the sea, the port, the town, the marina, the River Wyre, and distant Barrow in Furness and Lakeland across the bay. Unsurprisingly I was frequently to be seen there with my camera. However, this particular photograph could have been taken anywhere in England. It shows part of the front elevation of a couple of houses composed of ready-made building components - bay windows, door surrounds, gate posts etc - that date from the late C19 or, more likely, early C20. It wasn't these that caught my eye though. Rather it was the beautifully painted red and green doors, probably contemporary with the rest of the structure, and the word "Ribblesdale" (the area of my upbringing) imprinted on the leftmost gate pier.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus E-300     2006

Sedum colours

Sedum are succulents commonly known as stonecrops. The wild, yellow flowered variety found growing wild in the UK is a plant that I became familiar with when growing up in the Yorkshire Dales. There it favoured old walls where it would thrive as it tenaciously gripped the surface and added colour to the dry, infertile conditions. In Lincolnshire I frequently saw it growing in the debris that gathered in the hollows of pantiles on the roofs of old agricultural buildings. The cultivated sedums in this photograph at Beth Chatto's garden near Colchester have been planted in pebbles by someone with an artist's eye and make a fine abstract composition.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus OMD E-M10     2017

Disused Hull dock and warehouse, 1982

One of my tasks during the lockdown caused by the coronavirus epidemic has been to ensure that all our family photographs are digitised by scanning. Most had been done prior to this year, but a few collections of transparencies (slides), prints and negatives came to light and they have been worked through. The activity has revealed transparencies and negatives that haven't seen the light of day since they were exposed. Here are a couple.

They were taken on different days (and months) in 1982 and show the disused Humber Dock, the bridged link to Railway Dock, and the warehouses that stand by the docks. Today both these stretches of water are part of Hull Marina. The warehouse has been converted into flats and the whole site has new buildings, car parks, chandlery services, hotels etc. In other words a centre of bustling marine activity.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus OM1n    1982

Preening robin

Word must have got round among the local robins that I am targeting them with my camera. How else to explain them lining up, in various poses, to have their photograph taken? Having said that, I was at a bit of a loss with this robin. Was it hiding from me? Was it contorting itself in the manner of a fashion model, hoping to be chosen because of its unusual posture? Or perhaps it was simply engrossed in preening and preparing itself for the photograph it knew I would take? I got a couple of shots of the bird looking its best, but, as with the fashion models, the shot I prefer is the unconventional, preparatory image.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Lumix FZ1000 2

Old and young robins

Such is the difference between an adult and a juvenile robin many do not realise the identity of a youngster. Not until autumn comes along does the characteristic red-orange breast replace the flecked brown and buff of the young bird.

These photographs were taken at different times with different cameras: both illustrate the trusting nature of the robin, a quality that endears it to gardeners and others, and which led to it being nominated as our national bird.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus OMD E-M10photo © T. Boughen
Camera: Lumix FZ1000 2     2017

Tree and sky echoes

As I understand it the willows of varying species that flank the River Wye where it meanders through flatter landscapes serve an important function by anchoring the banks. In their absence the soft soil would be too easily eroded and the river would widen, perhaps change course more readily, and maintain a higher rate of flow, thereby presenting more problems for buildings and farmers. Consequently its not unusual to see the bankside willows being pruned and pollarded to encourage their growth and additional plantings are a reasonably common sight. This relatively large willow has received a heavy pruning but is already beginning to sprout shoots. I passed it some time after three aircraft had passed over. The wind-induced waywardness of their vapour trails echoed the irregular lines of the cropped branches.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Lumix FZ1000 2

The solitary alligator

In one of the two stretches of water at Cannop Ponds in the Forest of Dean, near the point where the water exits down a spillway, lurks a large alligator. It can usually be seen there, dimly visible through the murk and reflections, if there hasn't been much recent rain. The other day I caught it with its eyes and nose projecting above the surface. You might wonder what an alligator is doing in a stretch of water in England since they are not native to the country. The fact is, it is made of concrete, and is presumably someone's joke. And not a bad one at that.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Nikon P900

Fleabane

The common English names for wild and garden flowers often derive from their appearance, for example cranesbill, which has a fruit capsule reminiscent of a crane's bill. Quite a few others, particularly herbs, medicinal or therapeutic plants, have names that reference their useful qualities. Today's photograph shows one such example. The Latin name for this daisy-like flower is Erigeron but in England it is widely known as Fleabane. It is a somewhat unnatractive name for such a charming and delicate flower and is thought to come from the belief that when dried it repelled fleas. I wouldn't like to test that theory.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus OMD E-M10

Poplar Hawk Moth

My wife came upon this poplar hawk moth (Laothoe populi) when she was gardening. It was a species we had never seen before, and after researching it we wondered why: it is, by all accounts, reasonably common. However, it is very well camouflaged and therein, I think, lies the reason we hadn't encountered it before. There are several hawk moths and this one, as its name suggests, feeds on poplars (white, black and lombardy) as well as sallows and willows. All of those can be found in the areas where we live.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus OMD E-M10     2018

Why bluetooth?

Sitting at my computer the other day the question, "Why bluetooth?" popped into my mind. A quick rummage on the internet provided the following answer. In 1996 Intel, Eriksson and Nokia were deciding a name for a new short range wireless link to connect PCs with cellular devices. The Scandinavian involvement in the discussion resulted in the proposal of bluetooth, a name borrowed from King Harald "Bluetooth" Gormsson. His nickname derived from a dead tooth that was blue/grey in colour. Moreover, the king was responsible for uniting or linking Denmark and Norway in the year 958. The symbol for bluetooth was arrived at by combining the runic letters H and B. Interesting! The macro photograph shows the bluetooth symbol on a speaker on my desk.

photo © T. Boughen     Camera: Olympus OMD E-M10