Apples and Plums

Photographing Milton Country Park for the second year running has given me the opportunity to either picture things I missed the first time around, or, hopefully, improve on my images from last year. As anyone who has photographed in the same place for any length of time will know, seasons vary tremendously from year to year.

Cherry Plums 

Cherry Plums - 31 July 2016
A bumper crop this year

 

                                                                                
The mild spring and the warm and wet summer has meant a bumper crop of cherry plums. Last year, I took some pictures at an early stage when just a few plums were ripe. When I went back later, they had all disappeared. This year, to avoid the same mistake, I assiduously photographed the plums twice a week for three weeks. But I needn't have worried, as the trees were laden with fruit as the image above shows. This is far more than last year. Interestingly, the plum trees in the orchard had far fewer plums than in 2015.

Lords and Ladies

 

Lords and Ladies - 7 August 2016
A clump of ripe but uneaten fruit among the brambles and the ivy

Another fruit I struggled to capture last year, was the bright red berries of cuckoo pint (for some reason I think of the plant as cuckoo pint, and its fruit as lords and ladies). In 2015, all the spikes seem to be eaten as soon as they appeared. This time around, I had no problem in finding entire spikes, like the group shown here. Is this a reflection of an increase in number of berries, or that the birds, squirrels, and rabbits had plenty of other things to eat?

Apples

 

Ripening Apples - 28 August 2016
They may not be the forbidden fruit but their temptation is obvious

It appears that it has been a bumper year for apples as well. This cluster of large, juicy fruit was typical of all the apple trees I saw in the park. Fruit such as this make it easy to understand why the apple has become associated with the forbidden fruit in the tale of Adam and Eve and their expulsion from Eden. But the Bible does not the name the forbidden fruit, and its identity with the apple is more a product of the imagination of Renaissance painters. In fact, some would argue that the forbidden fruit could not have been an apple as it would not have been found in the Middle East at the time. However, this argument seems specious as the ecology of the surrounding countryside is generally irrelevant to the contents of a garden, particularly a paradise like Eden – just think of all the non-native plants found in modern day Eden Project in Cornwall.

In the Orchard - 28 August 2016
Apples gleam in the early morning sunshine

There is the old saying that you can't see the wood for the trees; but when it comes to photographing apples in the orchard, it seemed more a case that the camera couldn't see the fruit for the trees. I finally settled on this picture where the apples reflect the low sunlight more strongly than the surrounding leaves and stand out just that little bit.

Overhanging the path - 25 August 2016
Why is it that the best fruit is always out of reach?

In both these cases, the apples were green. On the higher boughs, where they got more sunlight, they were already turning a mouth watering red.

Apples are of course healthy. We have all heard the saying 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away', but the list of diseases the apple has been thought to cure is truly impressive, including: constipation, gout, fatigue, rheumatism, problems with the kidney or liver, anaemia and urine retention. It is said to lower cholesterol; and rubbing two halves of a sliced apple on a wart, then burying the remainder, eliminates the wart. No wonder the apple is associated with immortality.

Horse Chestnut

Young Horse Chestnut - 28 August 2016
Conkers clearly visible on this tree which so far has escaped the ravages of the leaf miner

One of the newly planted horse chestnut trees in the south of the park produced a nice crop of 'conkers', which inevitably led to my wondering why they are called conkers. The most likely explanation is they are named after the game of conquerors, which was originally played with snail shells or hazel nuts. Wikipedia lists the wonderful obblyonkers as a regional alternative name.

Fruitless

 

Male Hops - 21 August 2016
I have so far been unable to find any female plants with hops

I end this post with the fruit I didn't find. At the north end of the park by the Fen Road exit, I noticed a couple of trees covered with a large leafed climber with whitish-green flowers in panicles. As far as I can tell these climbers of male hop plants, and so far I have been unable to locate any female plants bearing the familiar hops anywhere in the park.

Next: Clematis and Hawthorn

Ivy

Ivy is the elephant in the living room of the countryside: it is always there but almost completely ignored.  It is not beautiful or photogenic; it is not exotic; it does not have brilliant flowers, and, its black berries are all but invisible.  Yet, it is a major factor in the appearence and atmosphere of Milton Country Park.

Ivy Leaves - 22 March 2016

In parts of the park, ivy not only festoons the the trunk of every tree with a thick, shaggy green coat, it also carpets the ground beneath. Together with long tendrils hanging down from the branches, these areas take on the atmosphere of a lush forest.  

Ivied Trees - 29 January 2017
The thick ivy tresses on the trunks, fill the space between the trees
making a wall of green.

Ivy and Wildlife

But is ivy a friend or a foe?  Contrary to what some may think, ivy does not kill trees.  It is not a parasite, and uses the trees purely for support; it derives all its nutrients from its roots.  It is easy to believe that ivy is the culprit, when you see a dying tree, its crown completely infested with the plant.  However, the host had to be moribund before the ivy could grow that much, as a healthy tree canopy can provide more than enough shade to deny the ivy the light it needs for photosynthesis and growth.  

Ivy Tendrils - 18 September 2016
Tendrils hanging down give a tropical forest feel to the woods

Ivy is undoubtedly of great value for wildlife.  Its dense foliage provides a place where birds can nest, bats can hide, and insects hibernate. Its leaves are eaten by a number of insects, including the angle shades moth.  Ivy flowers are an important source of nectar at a time of year when there are few other sources.  Its berries provide food for a number of birds including blackbirds, thrushes and black caps. This winter, the berries have been disappearing as soon as they are ripe.

Ivy Covered Bank - 6 February 2017
Ivy provides a thick ground cover, with leaves turning a rich red during autumn

Folklore

Ivy is rich in folk lore and mythology. Its main claim to fame is its eponymous reference in the carol 'The Holly and the Ivy'; although ivy is not mentioned at all after the first line.  The holly in this carol represents Christ, the reference to ivy is probably a hangover from earlier traditions which linked the two plants.  In fact, during the fifthteenth and sixteenth century there were a number of holly and ivy carols.

Ivy Tendrils - 24 February 2015
It is difficult to believe that ivy is harmless, when the whole trunk of a tree is smothered in its tendrils

In these early traditions, holly represents the male and ivy the female.  Ivy would be brought into the house at Christmas as a symbol of fertility.  It was thought to be bring good luck to women; and if grown on the walls of the house protect its inhabitants against witch craft.  Drinking ivy vinegar was said to protect against the plague.

Ivy Flowers - 15 October 2016
Note the lanceolate shaped leaves on the flowering branches

Ivy was sacred to Bacchus, the god of wine and orgies, who wore a crown of ivy, which gave him immortality.  To the Romans, ivy was also a symbol of intellect, and winners of poetry competitions were awarded a wreath of ivy.  

Ivy Berries - 3 February 2017
Rich food source for birds
 the berries start disappearing from the bushes as soon as they are ripe

 

Further Reading

Ivy - Friend or Foe? 
Hedera  
The Importance of Ivy to Insects  

English Ivy Symbolism, Traditions and Mythology
Folklore in My Garden - Ivy
Ivy - Hedera helix

Next: A Foggy Day

Hawthorn

It is almost impossible to overestimate the impact that the coming of the hawthorn blossom in May has on Milton Country Park, and the surrounding countryside.  Almost every hedge and innumerable bushes are thickly covered with creamy white flowers.

Hawthorn Blossom Framed by Arch of Trees.  By Deep Pool - 27 May 2016

Hawthorn has been an important part of the landscape for well over a thousand years: it name is derived from the anglo-saxon 'haegthorn' meaning hedgethorn.  In those times, it was not only used for hedges, but individual bushes were often important boundary markers.  It is not surprising then, that over the centuries, hawthorn has gained many names, including: hedgethorn, quickthorn, whitethorn, may, beltane, and quickset.  It has also attracted a great deal of folk lore.

Hedgerow Covered in Blossom.  Path by Wetlands - 29 May 2016

Hawthorn is perhaps most strongly associated with the month of May, and May Day celebrations in particular. Either in the evening of April 30^th or early in the morning of the day itself, villagers would go out and gather armfuls of may to decorate their houses. This symbolised the start of the growing season and brought new life into the village.

'Knots of May' on bushes in centre of park - 22 May 2016

This is the basis of the expression 'to go a'maying', and also the origin of the rhyme 'Here we go gathering nuts in May'. Like most nursery rhymes, I had recited it endlessly, but never thought about the problem at its very heart – there are no nuts in May. Here 'nuts' refers to the 'knots' of hawthorn flowers on the branches.

But May Day is also a fertility celebration, and many who collected flowers on 30^th April would stay out all night love-making, causing a minor baby boom at this time of year. When the Christians came to claim this festival as their own, they wanted nothing to do with such ribaldry, and, instead, turned May into a month of celibacy and restraint. This has led one author to put rather a different interpretation on 'ne'er cast a clout till May is out'. He suggests that it is an instruction not to change one's clothes at all during the month. Why? Because any sign of sexual activity will be impossible to detect on such dirty and dishevelled clothes.

The Smell of Plague Comes to Milton Country Park.  Centre of Park - 22 May 2016

Hawthorn has more sinister associations as well.  May flowers were said to smell of plague.  This is well based as one of the components of the scent is trimethylamine, which is one of the first chemicals released by rotting corpses.

More equivocally, is its association with witches.  While some believed that witches rode on broomsticks made of hawthorn, others put sprigs of hawthorn over their doorways to keep the ladies out!

Drug Store or Fairy House? By Fen Road Exit - 22 May 2016

It widely believed that fairies lived in hawthorn bushes.  In the ballad of 'Thomas the Rimmer', the eponymous hero is abducted by a fairy queen in a hawthorn bush and taken to a fairy kingdom, where he was kept for seven days.  So the bush pictured here could be a Harry Potter-like portal to a magic place!

Hawthorn is held to be a veritable super drug store.  A bath in the dew of the flowers collected on May Day brings not only a better complexion, but a healthy and lucky future too.  Its leaves can be eaten, hence, 'bread and cheese' is one of its many names.  Its flowers used to make white wine, and its berries used to make jelly, tea, and a liqueur when soaked in brandy.  Its berries can be used effectively against artherosclerosis,  hypertension and cardiac arrest!

A Bush Fit for a Crown  By Dickerson's Pit - 29 May 2016

Finally, spare a thought for Richard III who had a very bad day at the office on 22nd August 1485 at the battle of Bosworth.  Not only did he lose his kingdom and his life, but, also, rather carelessly left his circlet hanging around in a hawthorn bush for his enemies to find. 

All this is a fairly superficial romp through the folk lore of hawthorn, of which there is a great deal more.  Perhaps, you will be like me, that after reading such tales, you can never look at a hawthorn bush the same again.


I have culled these thoughts from the following sources:

Wikipaedia
Trees for Life 

 Plant Lore
The Old Foodie
Nature's Calendar
Ecological Flora of the Central Chilterns
Tree Lore: Hawthorn
The Practical Herbalist
Hawthorn: Bride of the Hedgerow
Mayday Lore
The Hawthorn Tree


Next : Elderflower

Using New Eyes Part 3

"Give something a name and you think you know all about it".  This sentence has stayed in my memory long after either the subject of the lecture or the name of the lecturer who delivered it have been forgotten.  I remember it because there is more than a grain of truth in it.  But what has it got to do with photographing Milton Country Park?

A name, as the aphorism implies, carries with it a whole baggage train of associations.  These associations, both positive and negative,  profoundly influence how we look at an object, our attitude towards it, and, more fundamentally, whether we notice it at all.   Here are a couple of examples from plants found in the park.

By Fen Road Exit - 19 May 2015

Anthriscus sylvestris
Commonly called cow parsley.  Cow has connotations of a dim, lumbering beast.  It is also a derogatory term for a woman.  By implication, this plant is not a fine beauty or worthy of much attention.

It is also called Queen Anne's lace.  Now it is regal and associated with the fine and delicate material.  I don't know for certain, but I would hazard a guess which name is used when this plant is in a Chelsea show garden.  I certainly looked at, and photographed, Queen Anne's lace. 

Wetlands - 6 June 2015

Leucathemum vulgare
The dog daisy.  Not a plant to be admired and only fit for the dogs.  A plant I can't help but apologise for liking.


As ox-eye daisy, it is far more romantic conjuring up images of dewy eye Jersey cows looking dolefully over field gates in pastoral Devon.


If it is the exotic you are looking for, look no further: L.vulgare is the moon daisy.  With a name like that, who wouldn't go out of their way to find it?  I did and I found it here in Milton Country Park!

All Anglo Saxon

I have been very careful throughout this blog to use traditional anglo-saxon names for the plants that I feature.  This is for two reasons: firstly, because I think that the use of the latin name implies a degree of accuracy of identification that I do not want to claim; and, secondly, because traditional names sound as if they have some deep romantic meaning rooted in English folklore.

I have been doing some research into the origins of the names of some of the flowers found in the park.

South of Park - 23 August 2015

Nettle
Here is a surprise.  I expected the name to be associated with its irritating sting.  But it is not. Instead, the name is derived from a word meaning to sew.  It is a plant from which fibres were once made and used for sewing.

Orchard - 22 August 2015

Black Horehound
Again, I was  totally wrong in my assumption that the name was somehow associated with the vile smell of the leaves when they are bruised.  The reference gives two possible derivations: hoary honey or a corruption of the latin Urinaria  as the plant was used to treat strangury and dysuria.  And the black?  Because it has dark flowers.

Orchard - 19 August 2015

Toadflax
Finally, and most whimsically, toadflax, so named because of the alleged similarily of the flower to a little toad.  Alternatively, because toads were said to shelter beneath the plant.  

More prosaically, the flax part of the name is derived from the shape of the leaves resembling those of flax.




Queen Anne's lace 
The derivation of this name is worthy of mention.  The story goes that Queen Anne was touring the countryside, visiting her subjects, when she saw these flowers lining the roadside.  Mistakenly, she believed that the locals had draped lace over the road verges to welcome her.  Hence the name.

As a child I knew this flower as keck (used entirely in a derogatory fashion).  This name apparently comes from an old English work 'keek' meaning to peep or to spy, and relates to fact that one can look through the hollow stems of the plant.

--------------------------------

This shows that it is all too easy to overlook the interest and the beauty in the plants around us simply because of the names we give them.  It is also certain that I will never look at any of the plants mentioned in this post the same again, now I know something of the origins of the names I use for them. 

Next: Meadow Flowers

Intimate Landscapes

'Intimate Landscapes' is a term used to describe landscape photographs which depict an area of only a few square metres or less.  The horizon is often absent from such photographs.

The term was first used to describe the work of Eliot Porter. Working in the 1950s and 1960s, Porter was one of the pioneers of colour landscape and natural history photographs.   In photographing the American landscape, nothing was too trivial for Porter's eye.  The 1979 exhibition of his work (and subsequent book of the same title) 'Intimate Landscapes' includes pictures with titles such as 'Foxtail Grass', 'Columbine Leaves', 'Long Stemmed Grasses' , and 'Raspberry Leaves and Grass'.  This gives a clear indication of the nature of the work and its range both in terms of area and subject matter covered by the photographs.  For further information on Eliot Porter this review gives a good introduction to his work.

Dickerson's Pit - 30 August 2015

It will come as no surprise to readers of this blog that Porter's work has been a major inspiration for my own studies in Milton Country Park.  I have already published quite a number of intimate landscapes so far in this blog.  In this post, I want to highlight my use of the genre to create images of  flowers in their environment such as the example above.   Here water mint can be seen flowering on the eastern bank of Dickerson's Pit amongst the nettles and brambles surrounding a muddy inlet (seen in the middle on the right of the picture).

Todd's Pit - 30 June 2015

My second example of hedge parsley growing alongside the path on the western side of Todd's Pit highlights another characteristic of many of my intimate landscapes: the use of a very low viewpoint.  By getting down to within a few centimetres of the ground, I can give stature and importance to fairly humble plants.  

Dickerson's Pit - 2 August 2015

My third example was taken on the bank of the inlet on the western shore of Dickerson's Pit.  This was one of only two clumps of montbretia in the park, both of which were within 20 metres of each other. My first attempt at this image was foiled when my pet labrador ate the subject! 

Hall's Pond - 6 September 2015

The bracket fungus in this image are growing on some of the logs floating in Hall's Pond.  The photograph was taken from above and the green background between the logs is duckweed.

Dickerson's Pit - 19 August 2015

For the picture above, I have returned to a spot on the eastern edge of Dickerson's Pit where I have already photographed yellow irises (After the May Flower) and purple loosestrife (Summer Flowers).  This time, I have focused on the hogweed growing nearer the path.  

Some authors have suggested that the horizon should not be visible in an intimate landscape.  However, as here, with a low viewpoint, the sky can be visible without the overall area covered by the image being very large.

Todd's Pit - 17 June 2015

Another feature of the intimate landscape is that it highlights the complexity of the environment at this scale.  In this picture, there are at least another five different plant species beside the dog daisy in an area no larger than six square metres.  In a future post on intimate landscapes, I will be looking at using this technique to document plant communities.

Next: Late Summer Flowers

 

A Foggy Day

February 5 was the first seriously foggy day we have had for many months.  Although the fog did not penetrate the woody areas of Milton Country Park, it was sufficiently thick to obscure the opposite banks of the major pits in the park.
 

Jetty - 5 February 2017
The trees on the opposite bank are barely visible

Fog is a thief of vision.  It drains the landscape of colour and detail, leaving only the vaguest of details looming in the grey light.  I notice that the dictionary definition of loom is to appear indistinct and in an enlarged form.  Is this because the eye has nothing else to fix on in the monotonous gloom, and fills the space with anything it can discern? 

View of a Bridge - 5 February 2017
One of the bridges between Deep Water and Dickerson's Pit

The photograph above and the one below were both taken from the end of the jetty looking towards Deep Water. 

Dickerson's Pit - 5 February 2017

In this second image, there is a hint of colour in the reeds in the foreground. 

Birds in the Mist - 5 February 2017
Cormorant on island in middle of Dickerson's Pit

Loom has connotations of menace.  The featureless landscape becomes disorientating, and the silence, so often a feature of thick fog without any wind, can be disconcerting.   The smallest sound is magnified - a bird's warning cry becomes a siren, as the mind invents what it can't detect.   

What I hadn't appreciated before is how white objects appear so luminous in the gloom. In the middle of Dickerson's Pit, between the end of the jetty and the opposite shore, there are a couple of small islands.  Even with some image intensification, this cormorant on a branch on one of these islands, is only just discernible. In contrast, the white gulls behind seem to positively glow.

Looking South Down Dickerson's Pit - 5 February 2017

Moving around, this photograph is a long view down Dickerson's Pit. Like the previous image, the swan and the white gulls stand out in the gloom.

Reeds - 5 February 2017

To an extent, fog is the photographer's friend: in blanketting out anything except the foreground, it can leave the subject of the picture isolated against a background of studio simplicity.  

Next: Sprat-Weather 



 

Sprat-Weather

Sprat-weather - fisherman's slang for those dark depressing days of late autumn and early winter when it never seems to get properly light. It seems such weather is good for catching sprats; perhaps the fish suffer from SAD and lose the will to live. On that basis, December should have been an exceptional month for sprat fishing. Almost every day was damp, and gloomy with a biting cold wind penetrating the thickest of coats.

Dark Days - 13 December 2016
Sun reflecting in a muddy inlet off Dickerson's Pit

For me, this first image captures the mood of the whole depressing spell, a dark muddy patch of water reflecting a small rare glimpse of the sun. 

Frosty Cheer - 8 November 2016
The frost provides little more than a white backdrop to the colourful leaf 

Enough of the gloom and a whole lot more cheerful picture! It has not all been grey murk. There have been spells of bright frosty weather, although there have been none of those gloriously pretty winter mornings when all the trees are covered in rime. At most, only the table tops, the grass and the low growing vegetation in the more open parts of the park have been covered in rime. This picture was taken on the first frosty day of the season at the beginning of November.  The brightness of such sunny mornings more than make up for the cold.

Moss on a Precipice - 8 November 2016
Again the frost brightens up the picture

I love the way a photograph can remove any sense of scale, and literally make a mountain out of a molehill (or vice versa). In this case, the moss growing on one of the planks of a table top is left teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Frost Candyfloss - 5 December 2016
The brown of the dead grass at the base of the plant, and
the colour of the trees in the background, underline how little
was affected by the frost.

A further brief frosty spell at the beginning of December, painted the grass and low growing vegetation with a veneer of ice, and left this plant looking like a stick of white candy floss.

Winter Jasmine in the Sensory Garden - 2 January 2017
This winter jasmine climbs over the gate to the sensory garden

With most of the trees now bare, the only bright colours in the park were to be found in the garden. The bright yellow of the winter jasmine climbing over the gateway to the sensory garden bringing some much needed good cheer to the day.

Dogwood - 2 January 2017
The bright yellow and reds of the dogwood,
eclipse the copper beech

In the garden opposite, the dogwood stood out brightly against the dull copper of the beech hedge and very muted greens and browns of the bushes and trees behind.