Landscape

On The Horizon

Winter sea off Port Wrinkle, Cornwall

This week at Leanne’s Monochrome Madness, host Dawn from The Day After asks us to post HORIZONS. The photos here were taken in the Dynamic Monochrome setting of my erstwhile point-and-shoot Lumix Panasonic.

December on Llanddwyn Island, Anglesey

Mawddach Estuary, Wales – two horizons in one

Hikers on the Stiperstones, South Shropshire hills

I gave this final photo a sepia look: the black and white contrast seemed too harsh, but that’s all I did to it. Where did the sky go? A case of a lost horizon? All in all, a rather strange photo, but then the Stiperstones ridge top is a very strange place…

Knowing My Ground: Spring On The River Avon

This week Patti at Lens-Artists asks us to consider fore- middle- and background when framing our photos. And it just so happens I took a few (I think) suitable photos back in March when we were staying beside the river at Bidford-on-Avon in Warwickshire.

The house had a fine view of the town’s fifteenth century bridge. On the afternoon we arrived there was brilliant sunshine. I’m glad I caught it! I liked the shimmery reflections of trees and church tower in the river, but also that you can glimpse the upstream banks through the arches. Can you see the swan?

A view from the bridge

And lastly a couple of photos from our visit to nearby Hidcote Manor Gardens:

I liked the layered look of the magnolia blossoms near and far against the flat grey sky.

What’s not to like about this red-framed window in the Hidcote tearoom, and such a rich red too. Then there’s the garden border beyond, still slumbering for the most part, and in the distance the manor house roof.

Choose a pane, any pane…

Lens-Artists: Framing your shot – fore-, middle, and background

This week Patti sets the theme, and gives us some excellent examples and guidance. Go and see!

The Power Of Juxtaposition

Grasses, sky and clouds on Wenlock Edge

Sometimes you need to lie down to take a photo; taking this header shot was one of those moments. I wondered how the thin stems of meadow grasses would look against the fiery sky. They had much to compete with. Some more distant treetops got a look in too. Earth to sky: we’re holding our own despite the light show.

And a different take on earthly-aerial juxtapositions; this time a barley field, sun reflecting off the tufty awns that surround the grain. I liked the contrasting textures of spiky crop and meringue-soft cloud; the green against the blue, white-grey contrast:

The colour red always makes its presence felt. Here a single red bird cherry leaf:

The showy crab apples somehow make a lowly snail all the more remarkable.

I do take an awful lot of landscape photos, but perhaps you can have too many ‘good views’. The presence of some living/moving element generally makes for a more engaging shot:

This rather strange view of a Stiperstones tor was shot in monochrome in gloomy midday light. Odd things seem to happen in this mysterious Shropshire upland: so who knows where the sky went. But then I liked the happenstance appearance of the tight-knit group of hikers. They walked into the shot, their group posture conveying group purpose: they will reach the top.

And you want to follow them.

This is another chance Stiperstones photo, taken on the same day. Despite the poor light the tor does seem to radiate something. That’s my other half on the skyline. As ever he has stopped to see what had become of me, dawdling somewhere behind. I was so pleased when he stood still. There he is – a tiny human beside a momentous stack of geology, remnant of the ancient days when this quartzite ridge was crushed and fractured during the last Ice Age.

Back then, two great glaciers (one from Ireland, the other from the heights of Plynlimon in mid-Wales) convened in the Shropshire hills. They kept the ridge company, not covering it, but nudging the tops through alternating periods of freeze and thaw. Needless to say, this would not have been a human-friendly landscape. Even now, in bad weather, it is a brutally exposed spot.

And closer to home, the not quite live elephant on Wintles Hill adds a certain something (if only viewer puzzlement) to this Shropshire autumn landscape. The different layers of sunlight and shadow also caught my eye:

#IAmNotACrop

Lens-Artists: the power of juxtaposition This week Patti at Lens-Artists asks us to consider the power of juxtaposition in our compositions. Please see her super post for guidance and inspiration.

Winter Fields And Hedgerows ~Minimalism in Black & White Photography

I’ve been missing photo-moments in black and white. Things have not been the same since my Panasonic Lumix point-and-shoot broke. It had a dynamic monochrome setting, which I used a lot. I haven’t replaced it with another Lumix because they seem prone to acquiring dust spots on the lens, and quotes to have them professionally cleaned seemed higher than the original cost of the camera.

So ever since, I’ve been using a little Canon Ixus, which is fine for snapping, but somehow its monochrome setting does not enthuse me. I can of course do a spot of post-shot editing to perk things up, and there are also times when conversions from colour turn out quite well.

All the photos here, then, are from my archives. Actually I’m quite pleased to see some of them again. The first three were taken around our previous Wenlock home.

This next three were taken in various parts of wintery Wales:

Lens-Artists: Minimalism in Black & White This week Ritva gives us masterclass in monochrome. Please pay her a visit.

2025 Favourites: Looking Back To Ynys Mon

We didn’t go far last year, but we did spend a week on the North Wales island of Anglesey (Ynys Môn). We often go for Christmas, but this time we were there in late March. As ever, the view across the Menai Strait to the Welsh mainland came with its own enthralling light and shadow show, from the sublime to the mistily mysterious. It was hard to tear ourselves away.

Last Posting For Lens Artists: The Dew Pond Walk

Green lane, hollow way, sunken road: there’s a hint of mystery in these byways, not only in the names, but in the sense of times past, centuries of footfall embedded in the earth between ancient hedges; the passing of cottage folk, farmers, drovers with their herds and flocks; times when most people only had their feet to rely on if they needed to go anywhere.

This particular green lane is one of my favourite spots in Bishop’s Castle. The following photos are ones I forgot to post, taken on a late November walk. It was a brilliant day too, following a brief snow fall and several days of hard frost.

The frozen grass and leaves were crunchy under foot, gripping boots and making the walking easy as we climbed up Wintles Hill. We were heading to the dew ponds.

There are essential landmarks en route of course: a hoar-frosty Long Mynd…

The barns with their rusty roofs that always insist on having their photo taken…

The skyline ash tree that looks like an arboreal version of Munch’s ‘The Scream’…

As for the dew ponds, there are three on the hilltop, one very much in use, as you can see from the well-pocked mud around it…

One dwindling in the next door arable field and so only used by wildlife…

And the largest in a now enclosed enclave where it is producing a fine crop of bullrushes…

I don’t know why this corner of the field has been hived off, access provided by two stout kissing gates either side of it, but the Shropshire Way footpath passes through it.

It’s a good spot for holly trees, which reminds me. Holly was once grown in farm hedges both to shelter stock and as a valuable winter fodder for sheep (and sometimes cattle) when hay was in short supply. And yes, it does seem an unlikely foodstuff with all those prickles, but apparently the leaves become less barbed as the tree grows taller. And so it was the upper branches that were lopped off for the animals to feed on, the holly trees doubtless thriving on the pollarding (if our brute of a garden holly hedge is anything to go by).

Water was the other essential in hill country where streams were lacking. Dew ponds have been used at least since Neolithic times. They were also much used in mediaeval times and in the 18th-19th centuries, both periods reflecting a vibrant market for sheep wool.

Pond construction required skill and heavy labour. First a saucer shaped depression was excavated, about 3 feet (1 metre) deep. The diameter varied between 10 feet (3 metres) to 45 feet (15 metres). The whole surface was then covered with straw followed by a layer of mud which had to be puddled to seal the surface. (Canal beds were sealed in the same way, the puddling usually done by labourers in bare feet). Once sealed, rain and field run-off duly collected in the ponds.

In the past, Welsh drovers would have driven their stock through Bishop’s Castle, and on to the town and city markets of the Midlands. This next photo shows the country they would have trekked through – not so tamed and tidy in the eighteenth century. (Wales ahead, dewponds behind me). Perhaps the flocks and herds were gathered and watered at points like these before the drovers broached the town.

And it was at this moment that thoughts of watering holes had us turning on our heels and heading downhill to town. Toasted sandwiches at The Castle Hotel suddenly beckoned, plus a glass of delicious Clun pale ale.

Cheers and happy festive season to all the Lens-Artists (and their followers).

Many thanks for setting us so many diverting challenges through 2025.

Lens-Artists: Last chance for 2025 This week Patti sets the theme: last chance to post photos that missed previous posting opportunities.

The Space Between: Monochrome Madness

Between trees and path and sky on Wenlock Edge

Dandelion clocks in outer space

The wood between the trees

Wired

This week at Monochrome Madness, Stupidity Hole sets a thought-provoking theme: The Space Between

In Light And Shadow ~ Lakeside Reflections

These are the last photos from our Friday day out to Mellington Hall, caught in a brief burst of sunshine. The far glimpse of two swans across the lake had magic in it – a gentle scene for All Hallows’ Eve.

November Shadows Day 4 Becky has the most fabulous shadows on show today. She’s flying high in a mass aerial display.

More Shadows From Mellington Hall

And a mysterious man in black…

November Shadows Day 3: More about Becky’s shadow squares here.

All Hallows’ Eve ~ Light And Shadow At Mellington Hall

On Friday we were out for a family lunch just over the border in Wales: destination Mellington Hall. It is only a few miles from Bishop’s Castle, an impressive Gothic pile built in the 1870s by Derbyshire ironmaster, Philip Wright, and now run as a country house hotel and holiday park.

“Built by iron, saved by eggs and rabbits.”

This is how the current owners describe the hall’s more recent history.

They then explain how the present enterprise derives from some creative family entrepreneurship over sixty years ago:

The establishment of the Holiday Park in the 1960s and the survival of the Hall are inextricably linked: the Hall was in a terrible state when Mr Jack Evans, the grandfather of the present owner, bought the Hall and parkland in 1959.

Jack built his business on collecting rabbits, other game and eggs from the nearby farms and selling the produce to shops and markets in the Midlands. Coincidentally, Jack’s wife Margaret had been in service at the Hall as a young girl but by the 1950s the Hall was almost certainly going to be demolished.

Prompted by business contacts in the Midlands looking for a rural bolt-hole, Jack created the Holiday Park in the 1960s to generate revenue which would pay for the restoration and upkeep of the hall and thus save it from demolition.

What a project. And the restoration work is still ongoing.

You can see some photos of the Hall in its Victorian heyday HERE.

The grounds were originally landscaped by Joseph Paxton, but there has been further planting of specimen trees by Jack Evans. Work also still continues in the park, including the upkeep and creation of woodland paths, one of which links to the 177 mile Offa’s Dyke path, constructed along the England-Wales border in the late 700s CE by the Saxon king of Mercia.

Friday, though, was not a day for big walks, or even short ones. Too many fierce squalls to contend with. But between two showers, and armed with brollies, we did manage a brief stroll to lake where a sudden burst of sunlight yielded the header photo.

On the drive home, sun and rain together created a huge double rainbow over the Camlad Valley, casting brilliant prisms across the foothills of Todleth, Roundton and Corndon Hills, but not quite caught here as we sped along.

November Shadows This month Becky invites us to post square-format photos on a shadowy theme, however we care to interpret it. You can join in as and when.

Tish Farrell

Writer on the Edge