A Play of Light

backlit eucomis leaves

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There can be no photography without light, but it offers more to experiment with than just that basic need. One of my favourite qualities to play with is translucence. Many flowers and leaves will allow light to pass through them and this can lead to some attractive images.

Despite their apparent density, the purplish-red leaves of the eucomis (pineapple lily) above were able to let light filter through. By luck, I happened to see them at a time when the sun was low-angled but still very strong. The bright light was able to penetrate the leaves, showing a range of reds and yellows that would not have been visible by normal reflected light. I have cropped the image tightly on the leaves to make the colours appear more flame-like.

pink hollyhock flower against a blue sky

In my garden, hollyhocks are probably the flowers with the most translucent petals. These petals are especially thin, like fine coloured tissue, and allow light to pass through very easily. The flower above was one of the last on the plant, so by that time the stems were tall and reaching skyward, making it easy to position the camera where the semi-transparency of the flower would emphasise its airy floatiness.

backlit red and orange dahlia flower

The dahlia, by contrast, was in a shady position, with sunlight reaching the top petals of the flower. Because this was not in my own garden, I was limited in where I could stand. It was disappointing not to be able to get the camera into a position where more of the petals would be lit up, so I’ve cropped the photo to give the upper part of the flower more importance.

My garden doesn’t have a lot of colourful leaves in autumn, but our wisteria can turn a lovely shade of gold when the leaves are backlit by the afternoon sun. These leaves should really have been pruned off the climber in July, but I’m glad I left them because they were ideally placed to make a vivid image. The shadows that you see are from foliage on the far side of the leaves blocking the light. I reckon they add a lot to the photograph, which would have been much less interesting without them.

Wisteria leaves in autumn.

The last image (of autumn crab apple leaves) makes the same use of shadows. Here the leaves and stems on the right-hand side block the backlighting of the central leaf, adding the focal point of dark shadows on the glowing red.

Playing with translucence is a satisfying way to make photographs more vibrant and richly-coloured. It just needs the cooperation of the sun. There’s not much sunshine around at the moment, but spring will bring more opportunities to experiment with backlighting. Roll on spring!

Autumn leaves - crab apple

Winter Supporting Cast

A frosted brown leaf in the garden

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When frost is here, the stars of the garden are the seed heads. Their shapes become sculptural and exciting as they are made sparkly with frozen icy crystals. They’re the first thing I look for in winter photography, and a very satisfying subject for an appealing image.

But there aren’t a huge number of seed heads, and, of course, they are vastly outnumbered by the remaining leaves. Fortunately these leaves can often be very attractive with a sprinkling of frost and give their own photographic possibilities.

A frosted geranium leaf
Frost accentuates the edges of a geranium leaf.

The leaf in the top photo is a Japanese anemone. These can take on interesting curvy shapes as they dry out and the brown colouring adds a bit of extra interest. There are usually lots of these leaves in the garden, but this year I have noticed that there are fewer. Perhaps the increasingly hot and dry summers have made these anemone clumps less inclined to spread and be thuggish. Although they can make themselves a nuisance, I will be sad if I lose the pretty show of flowers that they give in late summer and early autumn. It seems that climate change may be changing the nature of my garden.

The picture immediately above shows a hardy geranium. These are plants that are good-looking in both leaf and flower, so I’ve been happy to find space for several of these in the garden. The way the frost outlines the deeply indented edges of the leaves emphasises their shape and creates an image that is both pleasing to see and inviting to photograph.

Frosted fennel leaves
Fennel leaves are gracefully lacy under a heavy coating of frost.

While the first two photographs were taken in this winter’s light frosts, the remaining two were taken in years when the frost was much heavier. A dense coating of frost crystals has given the feathery foliage of a bronze fennel the appearance of lace. (Normally the fennel leaves would be gone by the time there was much frost, but that year the frost arrived earlier.)

Below, frost on the leaves of Euphorbia mellifera will quickly melt in the strong sunshine of a bright winter morning. Despite looking more robust than the delicate fennel leaves, this euphorbia is less hardy and would probably be best given winter protection in areas colder than ours. Luckily for many of our plants, we don’t usually get very cold temperatures for long. As a gardener, I have reason to be very grateful that this winter has been fairly mild so far, even if that means fewer opportunities for winter photography. ❄

Frosted leaves of Euphorbia mellifera
Frost on the leaves of Euphorbia mellifera will soon melt in the sunshine.

What Remains

A frosted skeleton of a hydrangea flower

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My garden is full of the leftovers of summer and autumn. Clumps of curled and dried-out leaves, seed heads (many now empty of their cargo of seeds) and, here and there, the tattered remnants of flowers, all create an untidy patchwork. But that untidiness is a protection to the life lurking within: insects are hibernating in it and, below, the soil and the creatures that inhabit it are protected from the effect of heavy winter rains.

Everything is going through the long wait for spring. I won’t tidy up the dead growth until all the little lives it shelters are active again. By then there will be new leaves beginning to push up through the soil and the first spring bulbs will be in flower.

Meanwhile the frost makes patterns on the remains of last year’s plants. Old leaves are finely edged in white and the ghosts of past flowers appear to be encrusted with tiny white seed beads. (Above: a tiny skeletonised flower of a hydrangea has become encased in a coating of icy frost. Below: tiny bead-like frost crystals decorate what’s left of a clump of aster daisies.) The seemingly insignificant oddments of the garden year are enough for the frost to create its ephemeral magic. ❄

The frosted remains of aster flowers
The frosted remains of aster flowers

Feeling Wintry

A frost-coated seed head of agapanthus

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Winter has asserted itself forcefully over most of the UK. In the last week or so, heavy snow and a damaging storm caused problems over other areas of the country. Here we have been more fortunate and have pretty much escaped both. Our light sprinkling of snow has now melted away, to be replaced by heavy rain and the promise of sleet.

Even the frosts of the previous days had little impact here. Although the ground was completely frozen, the frost itself affected only the grass and low-lying leaves, with none appearing on the upper parts of plants. So there was little of interest to photograph, which is unusual for frosty mornings here. However, that did allow me to stay indoors and keep warm rather than trying to navigate the slippery paths and ground outside. The time wasn’t wasted because I spent it catching up with processing a few older winter photographs.

The pictures here show seed heads photographed in winters when we’ve had a bit more frost. I usually leave some seed heads standing, hoping that they will become covered in icy crystals and provide me with something to photograph. (I don’t tidy up much in the autumn anyway, because I know that there will be many ladybirds, and possibly other insects, hibernating in the undergrowth.)

The top photo shows the seed head of a hardy agapanthus which is able to survive outside in a garden border, rather than having to be kept in a pot and overwintered in a greenhouse. It is one of my favourite seed heads to photograph. The seed head below is betony (Betonica officinalis), which I was lucky enough to be able to photograph before it had completely dried out and lost its colour. (We must have had an early frost that year.)❄

A frosted seed head in the garden

Possibilities…

White cosmos flower with a pink-blushed centre.

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It’s too cold at the moment to spend much time out in the garden. That means I’m taking it easy indoors, looking through last summer’s photos. Seeing images of plants from other people’s gardens gives me ideas for my own.

Seeing this pretty cosmos makes me realise how much I missed having them in my own garden last year. I love the way the delicate flowers float above the feathery leaves and the fact that they can last right up until the first frosts here. These lovely annuals bring a bit of variety to my garden and fit in well with the other permanent plants.

Growing annuals from seed may prove difficult this year, though, because I’m likely to be away from home at times during the spring…perhaps I will have to look out for some plug plants. Deciding when to take time away from home is tricky if you’re a gardener and have seedlings and potted plants to care for. Luckily there is still plenty of time for making decisions! 🌼

Winter Bee-Feast

mahonia flowers with melted frost

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As I’ve been working in the garden in recent days, I’ve noticed that there are still a few buff-tailed bumblebees around. They’ve been attracted to the yellow flowers of our mahonia, which is a great source of nectar and pollen during late autumn and winter.

While most bumblebee colonies die off for the winter, with just the mated queens hibernating and then starting new colonies in spring, the buff-tails (Bombus terrestris) can stay active. 30 years or so ago, buff-tailed queens would have hibernated too, but in more recent times both queens and workers may be seen flying in winter. It seems that this is the result of winters becoming milder, especially in southern areas of the UK.

There are not many sources of nectar for winter-active bumblebees, so the mahonia, which is a large shrub and well-covered with flowers, has become a valued feature of our garden. (By the time the mahonia has finished flowering, there will be some hellebores and later on there is the plum blossom. We do, however, want to increase the available food for bumblebees over winter.)

As you can see from the photographs, the mahonia flowers don’t mind a bit of frost or snow. Ours has the sunniest spot in the garden, so bees can enjoy the warmth of any sunshine right from early morning until sunset. The shrub was already here (and mature) when we came to this house, so I can’t be sure of the cultivar, but it does look like the very popular Mahonia x media ‘Charity’. I’m certainly very glad that a previous owner did plant it and I should think that the bumblebees are too! 🐝

mahonia flowers with melting snow

Snow melting from mahonia flowers doesn’t seem to cause them much damage.

A Chilly Glimpse of Winter

A frosted rose

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We had our first glimpse of winter this week, with a frost over most of the garden. There had been a dusting of frost over house rooftops and cars before that, but this was the first real cold of the year.

I’m always hoping that there will still be a few flowers around when the frosts arrive. There’s often a few lingering roses and, when frosted, these make likely subjects for a wintry photograph. The rose here is ‘Rhapsody in Blue’, although these flowers look more magenta than the usual dark purple. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s due to the effects of early morning light, or it might be because the petals are frozen. Whatever the reason, they look much lighter than they usually do. (However, you can see a slight trace of the darker colour on some of the petals in the photo below.)

At the start of winter there are not many flowers remaining in the garden. At the moment there are these roses, a couple of flowering shrubs, and here and there a flower or two still clinging onto the smaller plants. At the sunnier end of the garden, the few bumblebees that are still active are making good use of the yellow flowers of the mahonia bush. Nearer the house, the scented pink flowers of Viburnum bodnantense ‘Dawn’ should be with us right through until early spring.

Photography in the garden can be very limited at this time of year, so if there’s a frosty morning I like to make the most of it and get outside before it melts. While the gardener in me worries about the effects of frost on plants that aren’t entirely hardy, my creative side is delighted to find something to photograph. I often have mixed feelings when things turn icy! ❄

Frosted roses and buds
Only a slight trace of the usual dark purple is visible on the petals of this frosted flower of ‘Rhapsody in Blue’.

After the Flowers…

Glycyrrhiza (liquorice) seed heads

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After the flowers have gone, then come a variety of interesting seed heads. Some are familiar and I come across them every year. Others are less common, like the liquorice plant (Glycyrrhiza) above, photographed on a recent visit to Fullers Mill.

Liquorice is a plant I’d never seen before and the spiky seed heads were what drew my attention. They would be lovely coated with tiny frost crystals, like little Christmas decorations. I didn’t touch one, but they look as if the tips of their individual pods could be sharp…not the most friendly thing to brush up against!

cardoon seed heads
Cardoon seed heads are releasing the first of their hairy seeds.

The seed heads of the cardoons (Cynara cardunculus), shown above, would be much nicer to get close to. These, however, were too tall for me to get near enough to reach the fluffy seeds. I would have liked to have been able to touch the hairs on the seeds, just to see if they’re as soft as they look. The first seeds were already making their escape last month, so I think that recent wind and rain will by now have carried many of them away.

Hairy seed heads are produced by other plants too, like the silvery plumes of Clematis tangutica (below, left). This plant was photographed at the end of summer and the single ‘tails’ attached to each individual seed were still smooth and shiny. Later, those tails become more feathery as they develop and the individual hairs on them grow and open out. That helps the attached seed to blow away in the wind. (It’s in a garden I visited, so I haven’t seen it recently, but I should think that those seed heads are very fluffy indeed by now, or perhaps have dispersed or become bedraggled in the autumn rain.)

Left: A clematis flower and seed head
Right: Catananche seed heads
Left: A seed head of Clematis tangutica gleams in the sun.
Right: Catananche seed heads have a subtle shine.

Another seed head with a slight shine is the Catananche caerulea (Cupid’s dart), shown above, on the right. The seeds are light and papery, clustered in airy heads that have a silvery look on a sunny day. This one is in my own garden and I love it for its long-lasting good looks, both in flower and seed.

Wild carrot (Daucus carota ‘Dara’) also grows in my garden. It’s allowed to seed itself around so that I have plenty of the nest-like seed heads to photograph. I’m having to be a bit stricter with it these days, because it can get everywhere. Now I just sprinkle the seeds in areas where there’s a bit of room for its waywardness. The lacy flower heads of wild carrot are pretty, but to my mind, this plant is at its best when in bud and later, when the seed heads appear. Both stages display the intricate architecture and grace of the plant at its most beautiful. When possible, I try to keep the seed heads, so that they (and the seed heads of other plants) will be here when the frost comes…not long to wait now!

Daucus carota (wild carrot) seed head
Tiny spiky seeds of wild carrot curve inward on a seed head that develops a nest-like appearance.

Powerfully Pink

Brightly-coloured flowers of Echinacea purpurea

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The flowers of autumn will soon be a memory. There are still some around but most are are gradually ebbing away and there will soon be very few left to photograph.

My photo files are full of reminders of the flowers that I’ve seen this year. The photos of the two pink flowers here stood out among the more recent ones because of their vivid pink. It’s easy to think of pink as being delicate and soft, but these two are as boldly-coloured as any of the red or orange flowers of late summer. The echinacea in the top photo is a particularly strong shade and brighter than the more dusky pink echinaceas that I’ve had in my own garden.

Sadly there have been no established echinacea plants in my garden this year. The red one that lit up summertime for the last few years has at last petered out, but there are a couple of tiny seedlings. (Echinaceas are short-lived, but do carry on by self-seeding.) Other echinaceas in a mix of orange and pink shades didn’t last quite as long as the red one, but I’ve seen the odd seedling that has managed to produce a flower…hopefully they’ll survive and become bigger plants in future.

The Japanese anemone below is attractive, but not something I’m looking to plant here. I already have two other pink Japanese anemones that are being very greedy for space, so best not to risk another! I’ll be happy to just admire it in other people’s gardens. But, while I’m unlikely to choose this anemone, I’d be very happy to grow the vibrantly pink echinacea. It’s very pink and it’s fabulous!

A vibrantly pink Japanese anemone.

Stars of Autumn

Dark purple aster flowers

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Plants in the Asteraceae family bring charm and loveliness to late summer and autumn. Amongst those plants, asters (also known as Michaelmas daisies) are especially valued for their late flowering, as are other daisy-like flowers in this family. I like the thought that ‘aster’ means ‘star’ in both Latin and ancient Greek; for me the composite flowers of the Asteraceae are, indeed, stars of the garden.

The aster in the top photo appeals to me due to its dramatically dark purple, and I’ve looked around to see if I can buy something like it for my own garden. I haven’t found one yet, but last year I planted my favourite aster, the lavender-blue flowered ‘Monch’. (The photo below is not my own plant though, but one photographed at Fullers Mill, as the are the others here.)

Flowers of Aster 'Monch'
Aster ‘Monch’ is one of my favourite plants for autumn.

There are a number of asters in my own garden now, mostly in purply-blue shades, but some pinks and white too. They keep the colour going when other flowers have finished and give a feeling of continuing life to the garden. Anything that helps to hold off the gathering greys of approaching winter is very welcome here!

I’d like to plant more late-flowering members of the Asteraceae, perhaps the dainty flower pictured below. I believe it’s probably Bidens heterophylla aurea. (Coreopsis verticillata ‘Moonbeam’ looks very similar, but appears to have slightly narrower petals. It is also a shorter and more compact plant.) This bidens (AKA Arizona beggarticks) has long, graceful stems that give the plant an airy feel, like gaura or Verbena bonariensis. This should make it easy to combine with other plants. I think it could be lovely with a delicate, wispy grass such as Stipa tenuissima (Mexican feather grass).

Flowers of Bidens aurea
The pale yellow flowers of a cultivar of Bidens aurea sway gracefully above some asters.

Some of the autumn-flowering Asteraceae are a bit less obviously daisy-like in appearance, like the dahlia below. However, you can easily see the family likeness in that centre made up of tiny individual ‘disc florets’, surrounded by the showier ‘ray florets’ (which we think of as petals). Rudbeckias, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, cosmos and zinnias are some of the varied members of this large family that can keep flowering when other plants have finished for the year. (You can see some of my previous photos of late-flowering Asteraceae in these posts: heleniums, cosmos, and zinnias. The Asteraceae bring beauty to our gardens in late summer and autumn and they’re all sparkling stars to me.

A dahlia flower glowing in evening light.
A dahlia glows in low-angled sunlight.