Another morning, another pier walk under a clear sky, the shadow lengths already halved while the sun continued to rise towards the upper meridian transit of the solar noon.
A fresh breeze dropped the ambient six degrees to more like four. And I photographed six things that caught my eye.
I brought a 70-200 mm lens with a circular polariser, hoping to take simple photos with intense colours. I knew the doors, the blank on a blue bandstand and the library brickwork, things I see most days, usually dimly lit under cloudy skies. Today they were luminous.
The sea offered me views of an island and ferry together with the suggestion of a breaking wave.
I enjoyed the clear skies as I watched Mars last night. It’s not that long since some thought they could see canals. The canals were merely illusions caused by the chance alignment of craters and other natural surface features seen in telescopes near the limit of resolution. I thought of a paragraph from the last chapter of James Lovelock’s Novacene. He wrote:
‘Now, when I look at out across the sea at night and see the red planet in the sky, it gives me quite a thrill to know that two pieces of hardware I designed sit there in the Martian desert. In 1977 they worked and did their job of helping to show just how lifeless our sibling planet was.’