As we move into the last month of meteorological autumn, the colour palette of the landscape on the Peninsula is reaching the peak of its shift to warm hues of red, orange and yellow. The leaves on the trees have shed most of their greens of summer, the grasses and scrub has turned a rich russet brown, and the birds are feeding on clusters of deep red, purple and black berries that are hanging on the fruit bearing plants that can be found across the Peninsula. Rowan trees seem to be having a particularly good year, with their branches laden with a bountiful crop of bright red berries and some would say that this is a sign of a harsh, cold, and snowy winter to come. I’m not sure if I buy into the belief that these trees can see into the future, but what I am sure of is that they hold a significant place in Scottish folklore. I first noticed the rowan trees being so heavily laden with berries on a walk down to Sàilean nan Cuileag when my eye was drawn to a swath of red berries and gold leaves that was standing out from a dark, almost grey backdrop of trees around the strandline on the western side of the bay. Intrigued, I took a closer look and saw that this splash of colour was hanging on the branches of a rowan tree anchored to the ground by an intricately twisted mass of roots. Why so many berries I wondered? Are we in for a hard winter, or is there a more scientific explanation for the bountiful crop hanging above my head? Well, it seems that rowan trees are subject to a natural phenomenon known as “masting” where they produce heavy crops of berries in some years and far fewer in others. One major reason for this is predator satiation: in a “mast year”, rowans produce an overwhelming number of berries to ensure that not all can be consumed by birds and animals, allowing more seeds to survive and grow. It is triggered by environmental conditions, such as temperature and rainfall, meaning that all the trees in a specific region synchronise their masting cycles, thus explaining why most rowan trees on the Peninsula are heavily laden with berries this year. One of the other reasons for masting is energy conservation. In a mast year, the trees expend a lot of energy in producing flowers and berries and they need time to recover from this. As a result, in the years following a mast year, they tend to conserve energy by producing fewer berries, giving them time to recover, replenish their resources and ultimately avoid exhausting themselves. So instead of a expecting harsh winter in the coming months, science tells us that we can expect fewer berries on the rowan trees here next summer. Nevertheless, the rowan tree is surrounded by mystical beliefs. Often referred to as the "Witchwood" or the "Tree of Protection," it was believed to have protective powers that ward off evil spirits and prevent witches from causing harm. In a year such as this, when there has been a heavy crop of berries, these powers were seen as being especially potent and homes and farms were believed to be well protected from harm or witchcraft. The rowan's vibrant red berries played a key role in its reputation for protection. Their red colour was considered powerful, often symbolising life, protection, and vitality. They have a small five-pointed star (a natural pentagram) on the bottom that was viewed as a symbol for warding off evil and protecting people from malevolent forces. As a result, people would plant rowan trees near their homes, barns, and cattle pens to protect their property from witchcraft. In times when rowans were especially laden with fruit, their branches were often used to craft protective charms, crosses, and amulets. These items would be hung above doorways or worn to prevent harm, while in some places, rowan twigs were sewn into clothing to protect people from being bewitched.
So, although science may be telling us that the abundance of rowan berries we are seeing this year is not the portent of a harsh winter, we may want to take head of folklore and seek protection from malevolent forces during the dark winter months by crafting a protective charm from a branch heavily laden with berries.
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We are approaching the end of September and a third of the way into meteorological autumn and after what seems to be a slow start to the season, I am starting to see the first signs of the changes this season brings. The morning air is growing cooler, and nature’s palette is beginning to shift from the rich greens of the wet summer we’ve had, to warmer hues of red, orange and yellow as the trees show hints of the vibrant show of colour that is to come. However, it is the softer, golden light that the Sun now casts over the landscape that I welcome most. While this means good conditions for photography, it doesn’t necessarily mean that ‘good photos’ will follow. A photograph can be considered good for a multitude of reasons and understanding why it is perceived as good involves looking at several key aspects, some of which are technical and relatively easy to understand, and others are more complex because they relate to how the viewer responds to its content.
A technically proficient photograph is often seen as good because it demonstrates the photographer's ability to use their equipment to get that technically correct photograph. In doing so:
If a photographer gets these things right, then the photograph should be pleasing to the eye and technically sound, but will it be good? Not necessarily because, for this technically sound photograph to be good, it needs to create an emotional connection with the viewer. On a general level, a beautifully composed photograph with striking visuals can evoke an emotional response simply through its aesthetic appeal. The use of light, colour, and composition can create a sense of peace, joy or awe and I guess this is why photographs of vivid sunrises and sunsets get many likes and comments on social media where the viewing time can be measured in seconds and any emotional response needs to be immediate as a result. However, I find it far more rewarding when the emotional response runs a lot deeper than that and the viewer personally connects with the image because it resonates with them as a result of some kind of memory. Such memories can be nostalgic in nature, reminding the viewer of past times, places they have been, or people they have known and I have had many people buy photographic prints from me because they portray places on the Peninsula that they have visited often or have once lived. Alternatively, photographs of places where significant life events such as engagements, weddings or anniversaries have occurred tend to resonate more deeply because they bring back personal memories of the emotions felt during such moments. This in turn creates a strong sense of connection and this, to me, is what creates a truly ‘good photograph’. Take this month’s image showing the old bridge over the River Shiel at Blain surrounded by trees in their full autumn splendour. It may be a technically sound image, and it may have aesthetic appeal because of its vivid colours, but neither of these things cause me to consider it to be a truly ‘good photograph’. What does, is that I have had several people personally connect with it because it shows a location where they have experienced a significant life event, such as getting engaged or being married. The emotional resonance arising from the interplay between the viewer’s recollection of these personal experiences and this photograph’s visual and aesthetic elements makes it not just a simple photo, but a medium for evoking deep-seated emotions, making it both compelling and memorable. It is exactly this that can make it and other photographs ‘good’. As we move away from the Autumn Equinox and towards the Winter Solstice it seems to me that, along with the days getting shorter and colder, the evening skies are getting brighter and bolder. We often get brooding skies, with the oranges, pinks and reds from the setting sun breaking up the greys, blues and purples of clearing storm clouds to produce dramatic scenes such as one I witnessed at Castle Tioram on a late-November afternoon and shown the image below. This makes me beg the question: Are late autumn and winter sunsets better than those we get at other times of the year? Well, it turns out that scientific studies have confirmed this to be the case and they have discovered the reasons why Scientific researchers have found that the peak sunset season is from November through to February and that this is down to a combination three things. These are the type and quantity of the cloud cover, cooler air temperatures and how the Earth is tilted towards the sun at this time of the year. Contrary to what you might think, we need clouds for a good sunset and they have to be the right kind of clouds. If they are too low down on the horizon, they will block out the Sun’s rays and prevent a sunset. Instead, we need mid to high level clouds that will refract the sunlight and give us those beautiful sunset colours. This happens more in autumn and winter because the weather patterns we get then tend to bring mid and high-level altocumulus, altostratus and cirrus clouds. The cooler temperatures mean that the air is less humid and that there is less water vapour to capture dust particles that are in the air and create the haze which is often a feature of the summer months. When present, this haze scatters sunlight and reduces its intensity. So, in autumn and winter, the lower humidity means that the air is clearer and we see the colours produced by the setting sun in all their intensity. Finally, as we approach the winter solstice, the North Pole gets tilted further away from the sun, lengthening the time taken for the sun to set. This, in turn, means that the sunset colours last longer than at the equinoxes, for example, when the sun sinks very quickly towards the horizon at a 90-degree angle. The result is that we have more time to enjoy the sunset colours and the sunset colours have more time to make an impact on us. Despite all of these variables, predicting sunsets doesn’t have to be hard. All you need to do is keep an eye out for the following key indicators:
Mid to high-level clouds (2km and above) Cloud coverage - 30 to 70 percent Humidity - low but not too low Clean air Prior rainfall - no less than 2 to 6 hours before Wind speed - low or non-existent There are many online forecasts for these weather conditions and the one I refer to most is windy.com. So why don’t you have a go at predicting a sunset and head west at what you think might be a good time. You never know, you may be well rewarded for your efforts! We are now in well in to October, the second month of meteorological autumn. It is when the number of visitors to the Peninsula reduces, the days become shorter, the nights become cooler, and the sun gets lower in the sky. This brings a quietness to the area and a quality of light that cannot be found at any other time of the year which, when combined with the autumn colours, makes what is a photographer’s paradise even more perfect than it already was. By the middle of the month most of the numerous wooded areas around the Peninsula are normally at or near their “autumn peak”, having swapped canopies of green for tapestries of vibrant reds, golds and ambers. The image above was taken around this time in 2019, which was a particularly good year for the autumn colours, and it shows the trees around the Old Shiel Bridge at Blain in their full autumn splendour. The Old Bridge was built by Thomas Telford in 1804. It spans a narrow chasm through which the waters of the River Shiel pass and seem to come to the boil before they expand in the House Pool, slow down and then run both still and deep. This single span bridge provides an interesting subject that can be photographed from many different angles. This, combined with how the smooth waters of the House Pool and the river downstream of it reflect the autumn colours, make it the perfect place to capture the splendour of the trees at this time of the year. I’ve visited the bridge a few times over the last week or so to find that the arrival of the autumn colours is not quite as advanced as it normally is. Indeed, I can’t help feeling it is a week or two behind and although there are now hints of golds in the landscape, I find my myself wondering if their late arrival means that there will be a poorer show this year.
So, what makes for a good show of autumn colours? Well, the answer lies in the fact that leaf colour comes from pigments, which are natural substances produced by the leaf cells to help them obtain food. There are three pigments: chlorophyll (green), carotenes (yellow) and anthocyanins (reds and pinks). It is the mix of them, as influenced by the weather, that determines depth of colour we get each year:
In addition to this, a warm dry 'Indian summer' is needed so that the leaves work for longer and therefore stay full of these pigments until the reducing hours of daylight and lower night temperatures trigger the colour change. So, if we’re to have another great show of autumn colours this year, let’s hope for some settled weather over the next couple of weeks, followed by some cold nights and dry, bright sunny days. |
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