Of Aphids, Hover Flies And Soldier Beetles

Butterfly; Painted Lady

The summer months arrived at last. I broke out the macro lens, slapped on a flashgun and dived into the long grass. Finally I could shoot local subjects at a gentle pace with little or no costs involved. For me, in my current situation, this is perfect.

Hover Fly

As the season was approaching, I had excitedly pictured myself wandering miles and miles through colourfully carpeted meadows and along busy hedgerows filled with vibrant colour and life.

Nope.

Soldier Beetle

Instead the monochromatic browns of winter months gave way to monochromatic greens. Yep. Instead of everything being dull and brown, everything is dull and green. The lack of colours came as something of a shock to me. Where were the flowers? And why didn’t I notice they were not here last year?

Hover Fly

Last year I was working the day job and grateful to rest on days off. I think I hardly went anywhere last year, except to the supermarket, on days that I had free. Money was also an issue last year – less weekly work hours, day shift, minimum wage and a lot of repair bills for the car – so exploring the countryside was mostly off the menu. I ended up borrowing a car that did less than half the miles per gallon of my broken-down car, and that put a damper on everything. Last year I was pretty much out of action.

Soldier Beetle

This year, although there are no real improvements in my financial situation, still I feel physically better than I did last year, thanks to my diabetes diagnosis and treatment, and I have a lot more time on my hands too. Though I’m not venturing far, I’m venturing out. That’s an improvement and, in terms of my photography, it’s a significant one at that.

Hover Fly

But I’m struggling. Not physically, thankfully, the problem is inspiration. While I do very much shoot photos for my own gratification, I also always shoot with an audience in mind. My audience is principally my Facebook friend list and I get dopamine hits from public recognition, just like everyone else. This, though, causes me to always have in mind whether I’m delivering on the level of interest. 

Industrious Bee
Butterfly; Painted Lady

The next season on the agenda is Autumn. It would be a lie to say that I’m not excited about that, at least. I do love the fall, and I’m usually able to deliver on meaningful atmospheric photographs in that season.

Lady Bird (expired)

Now I Know Why

I really thought I’d lost my photo mojo. Grabbing the camera and heading out had become a chore; something that I did, even though the thought actually wearied me. I thought I’d lost interest in the craft and that I’d had enough, and that the only thing to do was wait for the denial to pass as I moved on to the next stage of grieving for my once-beloved hobby.

Golden Acre Park

Life generally was becoming a struggle. Through last year I struggled more and more to finish tasks at work, the distances I was walking seeming to get greater and greater. At first I put it down to the weather; last summer was hot, weeks and weeks of interminable sunshine and high humidity, and it’s always difficult to do a manual labour job in those conditions. I felt, and I looked, truly worn out.

Towards the end of the season, as the temperatures began to fall, I began to look forward to being out of work. I felt like I needed a rest, and a month or two looking for jobs on the computer seemed a lot more appealing than getting out and working the jobs themselves. Even though the temperatures were moderate and the work was less demanding, still I was struggling just as badly as when the sun had been high and baking, and frequently even more so. Something was wrong.  Very wrong. But I didn’t catch on, instead imagining that I was just getting older and that this was par for the course; the new normal.

Maisie at Adel Crag

Through December and January, and into February, instead of recovering and feeling more like myself, I continued to decline. Now, though, instead of trudging miles and miles at work, I was exercising only by walking the dog. On my shoulder, a camera bag. By March I’d bought a new tripod; smaller and lighter than my old one. That was the most important thing for a tripod, suddenly, rather than it be sturdy and unmoving.

Otley Chevin Country Park

Through March and April I’d begun to scour my camera bag for things that I’d been carrying but rarely using. I removed all but one filter, I left flashguns at home, and flash triggers, spare batteries and so on. The dog walks, too, had become shorter. I’d started to look for routes that were as flat as possible. I felt outfaced by longer walks, and instead began to choose routes where I knew there were benches to rest along the way. Sheryl was concerned and suggested that I go to the doctors. I was losing weight despite eating like a pig and barely exercising. This, she said, was both concerning and also unfair! 😉

Roundhay Park

Through May, I gradually cut down on the lenses that I’d take with me while out with the dog. The number of photos I was taking while out and about dropped to zero on most days, and by the end of May I was down to one camera and one extra lens in my camera bag, and no tripod at all. But even though I’d cut the load to below what I’d ever have considered to be the bare minimum kit to carry around with me, the camera bag was now becoming too much for me to carry at all. I’d finally ground to a halt.

My diagnosis

Sheryl once again ordered me to the doctors, and this time I obeyed. I booked myself an appointment and saw the doctor. I described my symptoms and he sent me for blood tests. A week later, I was summoned back to the doctors and informed that they suspected I have type 2 diabetes. A second blood test confirmed it and, just like that, I was bound to a daily medication regime for the rest of my life.

30 day average blood glucose level.

After a month of medication I am definitely beginning to feel better and I’m starting to understand just how ill I was. Compared with how I am now, I now recognise that I was becoming deathly ill. My blood glucose levels are still very much higher than they should be, sometimes three or four times higher, and experiments with food are ongoing to determine what I can and can’t eat in order to get the numbers in check.

Already, though, my camera bag is back to full strength, with most of my lenses packed in there. I feel my capacity for photography growing again. Notably, my enthusiasm was always there but the energy required was not. This is now changing, and I’m entering a macro phase in time for the summer flowers and associated insects. It seems I’m back! 🙂

 

Photo Mojo

Tree Root, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire

Like many others, my photography goes through phases. Sometimes I’m prolific while other times I’m less so. Sometimes all I create are black and white images, while other times I make only landscape images, sometimes infrared or long exposure, and still others where I focus solely on macro or woodland, streams or waterfalls.

There are other times, though, when I’m not making landscapes, nor black and white, nor any other styles of image that interest me. My output stops completely and I’m unable to line myself up for some inspiration. I lose my “photo mojo”.

Cygnet, Coppice Pond, St Ives Estate, Bingley

A few months ago, I realised that I’d lost my mojo. It was when I needed to give my car an extended run in order to “clear its throat” – the particulate filter in a modern diesel, doing short journeys all the time, will eventually become clogged and in order to avoid problems it’s necessary to go on a longer journey on a motorway or dual carriageway. Sheryl and I headed for Scarborough on the A64.

We had a very pleasant drive over, had a chip butty and a donut, walked the dog up and down the beach, checked out the harbour and peered in the windows of a few shops on the promenade. Then, on the drive home, we went the way of the beautiful Forge Valley. And beautiful it was.

Although it was cold and the trees were mostly bare of leaves, that road is extraordinarily picturesque at all times of the year. Later, our route home took us to Sutton Bank, which – if you’re not familiar with it – has one of the best and most inspiring views of North Yorkshire. Lots of it, all in one view.

“Leaves No Lasting Impression”

At no point in the day, however, did I feel inspired enough to get my camera out. Not on the drive over, nor while on the seafront, nor on the way home. My mojo had gone, and I began to realise there was nothing I could do to get it back. It’s gone until it comes back and when that happens is outside my control.

Ram Wood, Roundhay, Leeds

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s the winter, and there’s so often so little light in the winter months, coupled with dead or absent foliage, but I think the primary issue isn’t the environment as much as it is the effect that the environment has on you. It isn’t the view that inspires you to capture an image of it, it’s how you see the view; it’s where you are emotionally when you see the view that inspires the photograph, if you are inspired at all. And if you are not inspired – if your heart isn’t in it – then it won’t happen.

It’s a reminder to me that photography is, itself, a form of expression. Whether it is artistic expression or not is for you to decide, but at least for me it’s that much at least. In order for me to speak through my photography requires me at the very least to believe that I have something to say. Photographically speaking, I think I’ve lost my train of thought for now.

Hoar Frost

Snow Schmow! For a truly magical Winter Wonderland scene, you don’t need snow, you need a hoar frost!

Avenue, Meanwood Valley Trail

Not to say that you don’t want snow too, if it should be available! But the magical fairy dust sprinkled on a Winter Wonderland scene is the crystallisation of tiny shards of ice, on the tips of leaves and on the surfaces of branches, twigs, grass and fences.

The way we whinge about the cold here in Yorkshire, you might be forgiven for thinking we’d get a hoar frost every other day in Winter, but in fact hoar frosts are not all that common. They form in fairly specific conditions and it is not enough for the temperature to be very low, humidity also needs to be very high. When the conditions are right, though, the results can be spectacular. We had such a day yesterday, with high humidity and a temperature overnight that plunged to -6°C. That’s pretty chilly, even for us! Nature’s gift, in recompense, was a beautiful and picturesque hoar frost.

Meadow, Meanwood Valley Trail

Maisie and I started our day later than usual, so we didn’t arrive for our walk until after 9am. The temperature had climbed, by this point, to -3°C. We had no need to fear that the hoar frost would have melted by then, though. Maisie got a good walk, and I got a few photos and a pair of very cold hands. I could swear I never used to feel the cold like I do today. Not even thermal gloves keep my hands warm any more.

The hoar frost remained all day and even overnight, when we were blessed with the addition of a thin layer of snow.  To avoid the inevitable jump in slow-moving traffic that always comes with the slightest hint of snow, we set out earlier this morning. This meant the sun was yet to rise and so the light was less good. And by less good, I mean less present. It was pretty dark. The temperature had graciously climbed to just -1°C for this morning’s walk, though, so I for one was not about to complain.

Woodland, Golden Acre Park

With it being so dark, instead of relying on hand-holding my camera today, I grabbed a monopod. Screwed into the bottom of my camera, though, the monopod meant that I couldn’t have my camera strap attached to the tripod base plate that I usually leave attached to the base of the camera. That meant carrying the camera without being able to put my hands in my pockets. At least, not both hands at the same time. 

Meadow, Golden Acre Park

My Nikon camera is very good at recovering detail in under-exposed photos, and I often shoot extremely under-exposed photos in order to keep my shutter speed up, to avoid motion blur ruining my shot completely. It’s not ideal, but it’s a workaround.

In a darker environment, the obvious solution is to increase ISO in order to capture a properly exposed photo in-camera. However, higher ISOs mean more noise, and with my limited testing it appears that there is fractionally less noise in the image if I recover detail during the post-processing of an under-exposed image than if I increase the ISO to capture a well-exposed image.

Still, this morning I was forced to push things, with a shutter speed of 1/30th. My favourite lens (the Nikkor 17-55mm f/2.8) doesn’t have built-in stabilisation, so the chances of introducing blur into the shot is significantly increased. The monopod somewhat mitigates that risk. It’s not a guaranteed solution, but using the monopod certainly increases my chances of getting home with usable photos. And on days like today, with frostbite as well.

In extensive testing I’ve found that anything below 6°C is too cold for my poor exposed hands, these days, and if it’s at all windy things are no better when I’m wearing gloves, so this morning I was close to the point of breaking into a jog in my rush to get the photos of trees that I had in mind at Golden Acre Park. Rest assured, dear reader, that at no point did I actually break into a jog. I just came close. These days I don’t think it’s likely that I’ll ever break into a jog again; I ache too much. I plod instead, and I’m comfortable with plodding.

Meadow, Golden Acre Park

 

Not Got The Foggiest

As if missing out of photography for three months of the year because of having no car were not bad enough, it was mostly autumn that I missed. Now I’m mobile again and I have a new camera, but the leaves have all already fallen. I’m left staring at the ground, looking for interesting leaves before they’re eaten by the earth, broken up and melted away.

Late autumn weather in Yorkshire is typically pretty gloomy. Not only is the sun low in the sky all day, it rises late and it sets mid-afternoon. In the days around the winter solstice the sun is above the horizon for less than eight hours. Add to that the typically British dense cloud cover and there are some days when you’re lucky to get a shutter speed above 1/30th of a second with a wide aperture and ISO100 setting. It not only can be frustrating, it can also feel pretty depressing.

No, late autumn and winter in Britain are not known for their long, bright, sunny days. Rather they’re known for being gloomy, all too often rainy and occasionally misty. And for me, it is the mist that is the saving grace of this time of year. Mistiness is moodiness, and I’m all kinds of moody.

A couple emerge from the mist, Otley Chevin Park

Mist and fog are the atmosphere in its most visible form, and they can be used to great effect in conveying mood.  For me this is the most depressing season, but if there’s mist or fog in the air then it’s an emotional state that I can convey in photography.

A tree stands in isolation. Roundhay Park, Leeds

Mist and fog help to separate foreground and background in a way that is similar to how we make use of a shallow depth of field, and they can help to draw attention to your photographic subject very effectively. If you’re lucky enough to be on the edge of a fog bank, where the sun is breaking through as well, there’s also the possibility of capturing what photographers often call “god rays” – shafts of light through cloud or trees, illuminating the haze to form the appearance of pillars of light.

“God rays” – shafts of light illuminating atmospheric haze

I’m not always inspired to grab my camera and find photos during the late autumn and early winter, but if there’s some fog or mist around then it’s usually enough to trigger a trip to the woods or the hills for some photographic prospecting.

Static Interference

It’s been a tough summer. At the beginning of August the workhorse that was my car broke down for the first and the last time after over five years of service. With over 175,000 miles on the clock, my beloved car finally rolled to the side of the road and gently died. I wept.

Betty: Citroën C5 VTR

Maybe not visibly but definitely on the inside I wept, as a little bit of me died with it. I cannot overstate how much I loved my car. We went everywhere together, up and down the country and across the continent too. She started every morning without fail and sipped gently on the diesel I fed her. Although her heater eventually blew cold in the winter and her air conditioning blew hot in the summer, she was always there for me. For us. She did everything that was ever asked of her with grace and poise – her magical pillow-soft Hydractive suspension saw to that.

Yes. My lovely car died. And I’ve been gutted ever since.

Fortunately, for work, I had access to my bezzy mate and partner-in-crime’s car named Burt. A Mercedes A-Class, Burt met the challenge head-on. He got us where we needed to go. But Burt’s from a different era, where petrol was a little less expensive and economy was more something you flew than what you expected from a car. We were able to get to and from work, but a day out in Burt was a costly affair, especially up and down the hills and valleys of our favourite haunt, the Yorkshire Dales.

Add to that Burt’s short-travel suspension and corresponding aversion to bumps and potholes, even when we decided to invest heavily in some petrol to enjoy a few hours of driving, the experience was always less than joyous. In truth it was more arduous. Something isn’t right when you set out for a relaxing drive but find yourself always wishing you were nearly home.

So it was for August, September and October. We missed the late summer evening drives, the fall colours and the first few frosts. These are the things we would normally take off to go and photograph, but we missed it all this year. It’s been tough.

But we’re finally clear of it all. I have a new car. It’s big, comfortable, economical, functional and, most importantly of all, it’s functioning. Meet Benson:

Benson: Citroën C5 VTR+ HDI

And for the record, no, I don’t feel the need to name everything that I own. Sheryl is the one that feels that need. I just roll with it.

Benson is only a couple of years newer than my beloved previous car, but he has considerably less miles under his timing belt and is an improved version of the same. Less the Hydractive suspension, which in truth was expensive to maintain, nevertheless Benson eats up the bumps and holes with ease. He’s designed to be comfortable and economical, and he’s most certainly both of those.

We haven’t been on a run into the Dales with him yet but it is very much our intention to do so soon. We’re feeling liberated. Although we’ve missed out on our favourite three months of the year, there’s time to make up for it now. With our new-found freedom will come new photography content, and I intend to post more frequently in the coming weeks and months to make up at least some of the recent shortfall.

New Muses

I’ve complained before about my dog, that she’s.. shall we say.. resistant to having her photo taken. She’s remarkably adept at dodging the lens. Well, this week things changed a little, and I had a lot of fun.

My neighbours were away working this week and needed help to make sure their two dogs – a Jack Russel and a Miniature Schnauzer – were fed, watered and walked. I’m a dog lover anyway, which is why I have Maisie, but these two boys, on an entirely different level, are a joy to behold. They’re excited and excitable, interested in everything, and most of all they’re self-entertaining. It’s no effort to sit them, because they constantly play together and wear each other out. But for a photographer they provide the ultimate benefit: Target practice!

Ruari (pronounced Rory), Jack Russel

Honestly, there’s no greater gift for a week than a couple of attractive dogs who don’t run and hide when you get a camera out. Not that they make photographing them easy, mind you. They’re active and curious. Unlike Maisie, Ruari and Freddy are more likely to get too close to focus, but that’s part of the fun. They at least don’t make you feel like you’re imposing on them. Maisie does, and it’s surprising how guilty she makes me feel when I’m pursuing her for a shot.

Freddy, Miniature Schnauzer

With it being Easter and a long weekend, Ruari and Freddy’s mum and dad have now (at time of writing) headed away for the long weekend to visit relatives and they’ve taken the boys with them. At least I have the option to borrow them from time to time, when I’m desperate to fire off some pet photos.

Freddy picked his own toy out of the bin. It’s a CoOp tub that once contained Ardennes paté

Freddy is due to get a haircut soon, so I’ll do some before/after photos. I rather like his shaggy look, but it would be nice to be able to capture his eyes. Eyes are so important in portrait photography, although with long-haired dogs you can get away without capturing them.

Until this week, Freddy was a little wary of me, as apparently he is of all strangers, but after the first day any issue evaporated and he and I have become best buds. I’m sure most animal lovers will identify with the fear of rejection. We have to remind ourselves that it isn’t necessarily personal, and we have to remember that dogs are particularly sensitive to bad experiences. Our need to have our affection reciprocated is a powerful thing, though.

Ruari chewing on Maisie’s pink wand. It’s a long story.

Ruari’s tremendous fun and I could take photos of him all day. And, unlike Maisie, he’d let me! Ruari doesn’t usually like men, particularly grey haired ones and large ones. I haven’t gone grey yet but I am a big bloke. For some reason, despite this, Ruari has always loved me. It’s always been a bit of a mystery to everyone, but I think it’s probably because Ruari knows he’s safe with me. Ruari’s come to stay a few times in the last few months and so now he settles in comfortably straight away. He often falls asleep in my arms without a care in the world.

You may have noticed that Ruari is one of those three-legged dogs. For the record, this doesn’t slow him down at all in any way. In fact Ruari, when on the lead, pulls as hard as Maisie ever did, despite being one quarter the size, one eighth the weight and with only three quarters the number of legs. I think it’s a fairly common trait of Jack Russels, that they are bloody-minded in their determination to do whatever it is they want to do. The plus side is that they eventually wear out, resulting in a little bit of peace and quiet every now and again.

Maisie in recovery, too tired or lazy today to dodge the camera.

All in all I had a fabulous week with these two. Although Maisie, being a little older, occasionally took herself to the bathroom and closed the door behind herself to get away, by and large I think she also enjoyed their company. The bottom line, though, is that as well as being happiest when not photographed, Maisie is also happiest as an only dog with one hundred percent of the available attention being on her. Still, I think some additional doggy company every now and again really does do her good.

Early Signs Of Winter in Wharfedale

I made this! 🙂

Best viewed directly on Youtube. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?trickpop=yes&v=CzOEZpyW9vc

I shot this one morning in Lower Wharfedale, which itself is no small feat. Near where I live, and so very accessible, it is also very much in the shadow of Leeds Bradford Airport (LBA). If you know about the rules governing drones then you’ll know that CAA rules prohibit flying within 5 miles of any airport in the UK. Much of Lower Wharfedale falls within the 5 mile exclusion zone of LBA, and this flight was just on the outside edge of that zone. Much of the view in the footage, however, is within the exclusion zone.

When you live near an airport (I live about 2 miles from the LBA runway), it means that any time you wish to fly your drone you must drive a distance. It’s a nuisance, frankly, and means I barely get to fly. But the rules is the rules, and I knew them before I bought my drone.

These days I have keyboards and synthesizers, so I’m delighted to be in a position to write my own musical accompaniment to the videos that I share. I’m particularly fond of this piece, which is simple and – for me at least – reasonably musical. I wouldn’t describe myself as a musician. Most of what I write is best described as elevator music. It’s nondescript and uninspiring. Funnily enough, that often works well with the videos that I produce, but everything is a work in progress and hopefully will get better over time. 🙂

Shooting The Sheep

My dog hates having her photo taken. It really doesn’t seem to make any difference how I approach it, or how surreptitious I am, Maisie always seems to catch on that I’m about to take a photo and she turns away or hides her face. It seems to make no difference if I’m using my DSLR, my bridge camera, GoPro or even smartphone, she always catches on before I can get focus and she dodges the shot. I have no willing muse.

So I take a lot of photos of sheep. Sheep aren’t self-conscious, they don’t care if they’re showing their good side or their bad, they only seem interested in eating grass and standing around, sometimes alone and sometimes in small groups. There are many sheep in the Yorkshire Dales and surrounding areas, so they’re an easy subject to find, and they’re somewhat iconic of the area, perhaps even as much as limestone outcrops and walls, and lime green fields peppered with old stone barns.

Over the years I’ve become rather fond of the sheep I encounter as I meander the dales and, though I couldn’t claim to be an expert on the different breeds that exist, I do notice distinctions between them. As a photographer, though, sheep can serve a useful function as the subjects of photos. In the Yorkshire Dales, sheep can help to convey the context of an image. They imply a peaceful, rural and fertile environment, the suggestion of timelessness or of time standing still and the harmony of farming in hand with nature. Everyone understands that sheep are timid, gentle creatures.

Because of this, sheep can also help to convey the scale of a landscape without compromising the image, far better than a car or a brightly dressed backpacker. Particularly in the Yorkshire Dales, sheep are an integral part of the landscape.

Yet, at the same time, sheep intimate a distinct story within the landscape. In Spring, lambs are symbolic of the rebirth of nature after the winter months. During the summer, sheep are synonymous with lazy, hazy days spent idly in meadows. During “golden hour”, and in the autumn, sheep are warm and fuzzy, soft and at peace, and yet in the snows of winter, sheep are the protagonists with whom we empathise in the battle against the wicked cruelty of icy blizzards and bitter temperatures.

Sheep are all things, not least to photographers in the dales.

Hug a sheep.

 

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