There are two easy ways to make a nature blog look especially attractive.
1. Take photos only on sunny days.
2. If you have to take them in a mist, adjust them to make the scene look more cheerful than it really was when you were there.
The disadvantage (apart from giving a wrong impression, a misleading record and, therefore, in effect, lying) is that, when the sun and summer eventually come, it is hardly of note. The seasons meld and can even seem pointless.
* * *
I don't want to labour the bleakness of The Hamm (the causeway between Weymouth and Dorset on the South Coast of England) but it hasn't quite hit clear days yet!
|24th March 2011 - Cold and hazy!|
When the sky blazes blue in the summer and the sea does too; when the wind drops on land and the heat rises; when the air shimmers and flotillas of white sailed training boats tag across the harbour; when the arcs above kite surfers are bright with colour . . . it all feels completely different.
|Chesil Beach - 24/03/11|
Even then, it's still a bit odd. It's still not easy to remember that, once you climb to the top of that overpowering and horrifically dull pile of pebbles (or look down on it from the heights of Portland) . . .if you do that, you will see that this is one of the most beautiful places on earth. Indeed, it is so special, it is a World Heritage Site. It's on the same United Nations list as the Pyramids in Egypt, the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, Yellowstone National Park in the U.S.A.; the Taj Mahal, Venice, the Dolomite Mountains and the Great Wall of China.
|Looking towards Portland.|
Sometimes surfers hanging onto the kites
skim along the surface of the sea
faster than the cars on the road.
But, on Thursday last week (March 24th 2011) it was cold and hazy. Mist thinned the view. The kites of the wind surfers were almost colourless.
Spring was, none the less, springing underfoot - and the nice thing about taking photographs close up is that there's hardly any mist to look through - so the white of the haze disappears and the sun, which is filtering through eye-level glare (when standing) is all that's left between us and the flowers.
|As you can see, there used to|
be a railway here.
The sycamore tree we are 'following'
is on a bank in a cutting
about a mile behind us but
on the same line.
When the weather warms, when the sun comes out with more confidence - I'll climb that bank of pebbles (over on the right and stretching into the distance) and show you the view.