Pre-dawn light

When the sun is below the horizon the light can often be more photogenic than having the subject directly lit by it, as with these beach chalets on a local seafront. Sunrise was nothing spectacular this morning due to a cloudless sky, but what was going on behind me turned out to produce a better image.

© 2025

The last leaf

                         One leaf is still undecided, whilst next year's buds are showing some determination.

© 2025

Winter Wonderland it isn't

It's thirty-seven days to Christmas, and at this time of year my local town gardens are traditionally festooned with seasonal trappings designed to draw in visitors (and their wallets), and generally get people 'in the Yuletide mood'. Today, I decide to pay a visit for some twilight photography to capture the colour and excitement.

My arrival is greeted with neither. Okay, it's late Monday afternoon and the place is deserted; most people are still at work, but this year's light show is rather dismal by comparison with recent years. Clearly, council budget restraints are biting hard. Composition wise, the helter-skelter and Observation Wheel is the best I can come up with. 

© 2025 

Open for debate

 

I hadn't expected to photograph anything on this morning's walk. I even debated whether or not to take my camera bag, such was the weather forecast for early part of the day. At the last moment I opted to do so, and I'm glad I did.

© 2025

Not thinking

It's on days like this that I have the beach to myself. Okay, there is the periodic dog walker, or hardy early morning fitness enthusiast that passes by, but that's it; there's nobody trying to work on their suntan. 

It also looks like rain.

From time to time I get enquiries: "Just what are you photographing?" is a common probe from the bemused, clearly of the thinking that such drab conditions are likely to produce anything worthwhile. I gesture towards the scudding clouds and rolling surf, and more often than not they walk on none the wiser.

But then again they're not thinking in monochrome.

© 2025

Coincidence, or just the truth?

No doubt it's purely coincidence, but it seems that the best skies for early morning photography can be found a few miles along the coast; in this case at Branksome Chine beach. Maybe there's some truth in that, and the shape of the bay does have a significant effect on cloud formations. All I know is that this morning it didn't disappoint.

© 2025

Seeing double

Good landscape photography is mostly all about waiting for something to happen. If at all. When it does, then there usually follows a frantic few moments as I try to make good images before the light changes and the mood is lost.

But there are times when it's quite possible to walk into a picture that's just waiting to be photographed, as with the gorgeous light and double rainbow that formed as I arrived on a local pier.

© 2025

On the prowl

During the winter months I'm often prowling the local seafront well before first light, in the hope that something out of the ordinary will materialise to produce a good photograph. Today looked promising as overnight rain gave way to the cold light of dawn, but there was no dazzling display of colours this time.

Cloud and wave patterns saved the day.

© 2025 

The end of the beginning

British Summer Time has ended; Storm Benjamin has skimmed the south coast and moved east; the sky is clear and it's low tide at dawn. It's the combination of the last two that has me out well before first light, in search of a subject to photograph.

Finding a tide pool for a composition is one thing, but it staying pristine before it gets trampled on by dog walkers (and their dogs), and early morning exercise enthusiasts before the light is right, is another. 

Today I'm lucky.

© 2025

A fleeting glimpse

When going out in the early morning with heavy cloud cover there's always the chance that I will return empty handed from a photo shoot. It nearly turned out that way today, but for the ten minutes of light immediately after sunrise. 

After that the sun rose above the distant cloud bank and disappeared for the day.

© 2025

On the lookout

I'm rarely alone on a beach when there's the expectation of something worthwhile to photograph. And why would I be? We all want to get take good pictures (and preferrably something others don't get), but the two or three fellow photographers that are set up before I arrive are in a cosy clump; all with long lenses pointing in the same direction; all getting roughly the same shot; all waiting for the sunrise.

Instinctively, I move further along the seashore in search of something they will miss, and I start shooting  before the sun has risen.

 © 2025

Okay, let's go!

The sun is now rising far enough to the south east to make the beach interesting again; seascape season has begun. I usually start a couple of weeks later in the year when shooting this type of image, but today I thought I'd chance it as the weather forecast looked favourable.

© 2025

On my way home

The few wisps of cloud that were dotted about over the horizon showed some promise for a composition upon my arrival at the beach. But casting a swift 360º look about me as I stood on the shoreline told me things wren't going to get much better, if at all.

Since I had made the effort, I dutifully took a few snaps to validate my being there and headed for home. As always, I keep an eye on my chosen subject for as long as possible, and it was 24 minutes after sunrise that the sky filled-out and became interesting. All I needed then was something of interest for a foreground.

© 2024

Nature doing its thing

The thin, pale, red glow between the grey cloud bank and the horizon didn't look particularly encouraging at first light today, and the dawn itself wasn't anything to get excited about. But within half an hour of sunrise the clouds part, and nature turns it on as only nature can.

© 2024

Weather? What weather?

The stereotypical belief that the British are always talking about the weather may have an element of truth to it, but recently that wouldn't have been the case... because there hadn't been any. For the best part of this month, a blanket of grey cloud has sat virtually motionless over much of Northern Europe.

This afternoon the cloud began to break up over the UK as the high pressure system that kept it there moves away, and we see the sun for the first time in ten days.

© 2024

Missing out

Frequent bouts of heavy rain - followed by patches of clear skies, is what inspires me the most to get outside with a camera, and this morning has it in spades. The sheer drama of it all is worth the 4am alarm when conditions are this good, and trudging through the torrential downpours to reach a chosen location is all part of the fun. However, there are those I know that disagree with me. 

But then again, they don't get the shots that I get. 

© 2024

Making my own luck

At this time of year the sun has moved round far enough to start rising over the sea, heralding the start of my winter photographic season. A stiff breeze is blowing today, but sky isn't likely to provide anything memorable. There's also several other photographers dotted around the beach in a bid to catch some drama, and all of them are working on tripods with long lenses. In that case, I want something different.

The local pier has a colony of pigeons that roosts on its framework during the night, but descends to the beach in search of breakfast at first light. Positioning myself upwind, it's just a matter of waiting for a dawn dog-walker's dog to espy the flock, and gamely get them airborne. I get off three frames and select the second one for this post. The near-circular lens flare is the (accidental) icing on the cake.

 © 2024

The Purbeck chalk ridges

 

Walking the chalk ridges of the Isle of Purbeck makes for some good exercise, with stunning views thrown in as a bonus. It's early autumn, and the light during the day is beginning to exhibit promise, as shown in the photographs of Nine Barrow Down.

The top image shows the path that leads to the top of the eastern end, with the Dorset village of Ulwell and Ballard Down in the middle distance. Beneath that, the picture taken at the western extremity reveals the path that descends to the village of Corfe Castle, picked out in the early afternoon light.

© 2024

Predetermined

Early starts are that much more convenient now that the clocks have been returned to Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). In addition, the sun barely creeps into the sky at my latitude during the winter months; rising and setting over the sea. This often produces opportunities for spectacular seascape images, and all during 'office hours'.

In spite of the broken cloud at sunrise today there are only shades of grey in the sky, so I decide that everything I photograph will be converted to black and white.

© 2022

Shower dodging (well, almost)

 

© 2022