BINDWEED AND SYCAMORE

Here's a walk from June 30th. 

If something in the distance takes my interest, I'm generally drawn forward to look closer . . . and closer . . . and closer. I expect it's the same for all of us. Added to that, one of the specially nice things about having a camera is that one can take a photo of leaves and seeds far too high to see otherwise but the detail is in the picture and can be zoomed in on at home.

People with tripods can use their cameras more like telescopes - but I don't have a tripod. Recently, when I phoned round the shops for advice about what camera to buy, one man told me I wouldn't be able to take photos of leaves without a tripod.

"I can," I said. "I do."

But he was strangely persistent.

"Not only will your photos be without detail, you won't be able to find the same plant again unless you leave the tripod in place, ready to come back to when you want to see how the plant has grown."

"I will," I said. "I do."


"You need a tripod," he said.


"I take photos of the undersides of leaves," I said. "And a tripod wouldn't fit under a mushroom."


I imagined buying a fleet of tripods and leaving one beside every interesting tree and plant in the area.  I imagined all the children in Dorset running round with my tripods or trying to sit on them.

"You'll also need to go on a course if you are to take pictures of leaves," he said. "There's a woman who runs classes in nature photography. She's very good. I think she's living in the North of Scotland now."

I live in the South of England; almost as far south in England as it is possible to go.

How excellent would I have to prove my photography to be before he'd consider me worthy to own a camera? If I went to his shop, would I have to take examples of my work, certificates of courses undertaken and passed before he'd let me near his shelves? Is there no room in the world for beginners?

I didn't buy anything from him - not even a tripod. If ever I find myself near his shop, I'll creep by it in silence in case he recognises my voice and chases me down the street shouting 

"Life cannot be sweet without a TRIPOD."

* * * * *

A few days ago, I went for a tripod-free walk.

(Don't think I'm anti-tripod. Don't be indignant if, one day, I buy one. But I won't wait idle in the meantime!)

Dying, yellowing Ground Elder dominated the sides of the path - and Convolvulus covered the hedges in bright, white splodges. I'm sad to see the Ground Elder go but the foliage will drop and we'll be left with magnificent seed heads topping lovely, solid, pink and green striped stems.

(I'll do a separate Ground Elder post soon.)

* * * * *

Loose and Leafy is, inadvertently, devoted to the unwanted and this post almost sums up its ethos. Gardeners are brave to come here. It must give them the heebie-jeebies to see Ground Elder praised. Which readers can see Bindweed without ripping it out? Blackberry will strangle a garden, straddle its acres and keep going till it reaches a road or the sea. (Not that a road will stop Blackberry bushes for long. Seeds!)

* * * * *

When a visiting relative saw a small sycamore tree in a pot, she said "You'll want to get rid of that!" Why? Because the woods are full of them and they spring up in gardens and get in the way? But look at the seeds! Most people in England, even in towns, know sycamores for the little helicopter seeds which spin down in autumn. And they enjoy throwing them up into the air to see them spin again. But how many people look up to notice the seeds as they ripen?


Having said that. I suspect this is a Maple. Near enough! When I go back, I'll see if any of the leaves are reachable so I can pluck one. My way of distinguishing between Sycamore and a Maple is that the sap of a Sycamore leaf stem is like most green, liquid sap whereas the sap of a Maple is milky. (But, always remember, this is an in-expert speaking. My system might be twaddle. If anyone knows - tell me!)