With the roar of the Lawn-king in my ears, I leapt to preserve the gorgeous daisy lawn spring had delivered me.
Torn between saving it, and the welcome sight of garden maintenance performed spontaneously, I let it go.
The fantastic combination of more rain than we have seen in six years in Woodend, sun, and an ancient bag of blood and bone I discovered in the shed, and I finally figured out why other peoples gardens are virile to my withered. I found the very idea of a bag of crushed animal abhorrent, that is, until the hellebores doubled in size in two weeks.
I now describe myself as conflicted.
It’s 2am, zero degrees and I am out in my back yard, with too much caffeine on board, but taking advantage of the crystal clear night and almost no wind. I’ve changed the scale and distance from my subject and have discovered my puny torch is impotent. Ransacking the house and garage for all available light sources, it was me, a koala looking for a date, a lead-footed wallaby, a wombat crashing around, a headlight, and two torches. My first challenge: avoid my visible breath drifting across the camera lens mid-capture.
The second biggest challenge was actually getting enough light to focus on the subject matter. After an hour, I had a blast of inspiration. My studio lights. 600w of joy in each one, not exactly fit for purpose, but all sorts of things seem reasonable in the wee hours. Standing with one on my shoulder pointing at the trees, and risking electrocution (my lecturers warnings ringing in my ears!) it still wasn’t enough. I stuck it out, blindly focussing until my fingers ceased operating, and nose would not stop streaming. Tomorrow, you will find me shopping in the industrial floodlight department.
Two views of the same scene; the first with the puny torch collection, the second with the studio light, giving a lot more filled-in detail.
If I fixed the colour balance, to compensate for the light temperature, these would be bluer in appearance. I prefer the warm result out of the camera.