I am taking a short break from writing this blog, partly because I don't have the time at the moment, and partly because I am unsure of the future direction of the blog. I feel that after two and a half years, I have thoroughly documented Milton Country Park, and don't necessarily think I have any more to say.
In fact, I was thinking of stopping the blog altogether until yesterday morning, when I took the dog for a walk around the park. Everything was bathed in a light mist, enough to obscure, but not thick enough to obliterate. I found the light inspirational, particularly as the moist air deadened the sound of traffic on the nearby dual carriageway. Unfortunately I didn't have a camera with me, as the dog is at an age where she demands too much attention.
Looking across Dickerson's Pit, I could see the shapes of the trees on the far bank, but the details had gone, and the colour was drained from the leaves. On the water, a couple of swans and a few seagulls loomed preternaturally large and white in the mist. On the ground, the leaves that had been ripped off the willows in the recent wind were rotting down to a mosaic of yellows, browns, purples and reds, turning the water of any puddles that had formed on top of them a light orange-red colour.
Everywhere I looked, I could see potential shots: bright yellow maple leaves which had fallen between sinuous dark tree roots; a forked tree overlooking the water; a clump of toadstools at the base of an old ivy covered willow; and a new view that had been opened up from the north end of Hall's Pond.
This has persuaded me to continue. The challenge is clearly greater, as I have already photographed the more obvious spots. But looking at the works of Edward Weston, Paul Strand, and Minor White, I am very tempted to seriously try some black and white photography, with its emphasis on tonality and form. And this is what I will be doing in my next post, hopefully, within the next month.