Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Chesterton Windmill




A few days ago I took a trip to the striking Chesterton Windmill in Wiltshire.

Not only is the windmill impressive in it's own right, but it had been years since the surrounding fields were planted with rapeseed, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get a few shots of this unique Grade I listed building on such a beautiful day.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

An ancient white horse




The Manger, with Dragon Hill to the right. 

I recently visited the White Horse at Uffington, a particularly historic landscape located in the picturesque Oxfordshire countryside, and not somewhere I'd been for a while, despite it being only about 30 minutes away. It was high time for another visit, and on such a beautiful day, it would have been rude not to.

The internationally-renowned Bronze-Age Uffington White Horse can be seen for miles away leaping across the head of a dramatic dry valley in the Ridgeway escarpment. The Uffington horse is by far the oldest of the white horse figures in Britain, and is of an entirely different design from the others white horses that dot the country. 

Monday, May 11, 2015

Bluebells in West Woods




Last week I paid a visit to West Woods, just outside Marlborough, for a spot of bluebell photography, as it's about that time of year when they are looking their best. West Woods is a plantation of beech trees on a former ancient woodland site, managed by the Forestry Commission.

Friday, May 8, 2015

North Yorkshire Day 5 – Sunrise at Saltwick Bay




I motored over to Saltwick Bay for sunrise with a song in my heart and woolly hat on my head, as I wanted to get an early morning shot of that most ubiquitous of views from this part of the country, the Admiral Von Tromp.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

North Yorkshire Day 4 – Flamborough Head & an old foe at Robin Hoods Bay




In the pre-dawn darkness I was driving north to Staithes, a perfect little fishing village perched on the coastline that curves around the headland and along the banks of the Roxby Beck, which sounds like a groovy swinger from the 70’s, but is in fact a stream that runs through the village and out to sea. I drove past the turn to the village and carried on a few hundred yards up the road, taking the little lane to Cowbar, a tiny village that sits high above Staithes and the river below.