
I have posted this shot once before but I thought my Autumn series wouldn’t be complete without it. Taken at Painshill Park in Cobham, Surrey.
Yearly Archives: 2012
Autumn fire

Continuing the Autumn theme, this post features images of my sumach tree. The leaves turn the most gorgeous shades of orange, red and even pink at this time of year. As the tree catches the last rays of sun to leave my garden, it is a popular spot with the garden’s minibeasts too.

A few days ago, I featured a tiny green spider which I misidentified as the cucumber green orb spider. I really should stop trying to identify minibeasts because I get it wrong oftener than I get it right! I now think that little critter was nigma walckenaeri. Oh well. I am, therefore not even going to try to identify this little gem of a spider crouching under a sumach leaf. Any spider experts out there, by all means chip in! Suffice it to say it’s a pretty little thing, for a spider.

Here it is again, toning in rather nicely with its colourful surroundings. I was trying to get under the tree to photograph the little fellow when an altogether more conventionally beautiful surprise visitor alighted on another leaf.
This delight is a ‘small copper’. I have never seen one of these in my garden before. It rested for a few seconds, just time for me to get a couple of hasty grab-shots.

What a beauty, its colours perfect for Autumn! Seeing it quite made my day.

I was planning to fell this tree as it is in the wrong place for all sorts of reasons. It has made tons of small sumachs which I can plant in a better place. But, after all this colour and buggy action, to fell it seems rather ungrateful, doesn’t it?
Autumn afternoon
Autumn’s winged messengers

As Autumn sets in, leggy crane flies start to blunder into homes, mimicking moths in their attraction to light. They are not the most stylish of Nature’s creatures but this one manages to look almost elegant hanging under the pastel Autumn leaves of my sumach tree.
This is probably a female specimen of the UK’s most common variety, tipula paludosa. Not a thing of beauty, but an important part of the ecosystem. Its grubs, known as leatherjackets, feed on the roots of grass, which does not please those who love their lawns. However, they are a valuable source of food for many birds. I enjoy watching the green woodpeckers drilling for them. The crows quarter my lawn systematically, voracious terminators of leatherjackets. In the process, they incidentally save me the job of aerating the lawn and lifting the moss.


Needless to say, there are several varieties of crane fly in the UK. The best place I have found for identification is Nature Spot. I think this little crane fly resting on sedum flowers may be tipula confusa. And yes, I am confused.

This one is a little more impressive. It could be nephrotoma appendiculata, the spotted crane fly. Or it could be nephrotoma flavescens.

But I think it is, in fact, nephrotoma flavipalpis. This is the first time I have noticed one of these in my garden.

Tomorrow’s Autumn post will be prettier, I promise.
An Autumn garden

Sheffield Park is an eighteenth century landscape garden in East Sussex owned by the National Trust.

Sheffield (meaning sheep clearing) Park is mentioned in the Doomsday Book. The garden was landscaped first by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown and then Humphrey Repton.

In the nineteenth century planting for an arboretum was begun. Arthur Soames purchased the estate in 1910 and continued the massive planting programme, much of which still exists today, and is particularly regarded for its Autumn colour.

We were a little early for the best leaves but there was still plenty of colour. If you live anywhere within striking distance of this beautiful garden, I recommend a visit. Just don’t forget your camera!
More Autumn colour tomorrow.
Autumn suspended

I am typing this sitting at college with the sun blazing through azure skies that one would normally expect to see in Summer, on a less contrary island. On mornings like this it seems as if Autumn has been suspended. The leaves tell a different story, however.
The first of a series of Autumnal images.
Alight
A detailed city
As a respite from the bug macros, I thought I’d pay a visit to one of my favourite North American cities, Vancouver.
I thoroughly enjoyed prowling round the most modern parts of this city, playing with angles and snapping details that caught my eye.
I often convert my shots of architecture to black and white to bring out the interesting shapes and patterns.
It can be fun to zoom in tight.
Or pull back for a wider view.
Sorting out converging lines can be tricky with tall buildings but sometimes it’s fun not to bother…
…or to go mad:
Reflections are always a lot of fun.
I did allow some colour, sometimes a lot of colour:
I hope you enjoyed my architectural safari. Vancouver really is a super city and there is, of course, much more to it than its modern architecture. More another time. I will leave you now with this thought: what’s not to like about a city that has a giant lego orca?
More tiny secrets
I thought I’d follow up yesterday’s post, The secret world of the smallest things, with more of the most miniscule critters in my garden. They are little more than moving dots to the naked eye but the macro lens and cropping reveals another world.
I am not going to be able to identify some of these tiny creatures. I know when I am out of my depth! I am content just to enjoy them, and their colourful landscape.
Some are not so welcome, or pretty. Don’t bite me! But isn’t the sumach leaf lovely?
I promise no insects tomorrow.
The secret world of the smallest things
As Autumn sets in and the larger, more showy insects start to disappear, my macro lens turns to the smallest creatures, so small that I can only see the details by photographing them and cropping. Each of these critters is much smaller than they appear here, hardly noticeable as they go about their secret lives.
Carrying your prey across a tightrope of the thinnest grass stem is just showing off.
I like to show these critters with plenty of space around them, to show how very small they are. And their landscape can sometimes be as intriguing as the insects themselves.




















