Etched on the Memory

GOOD NEWS today; the meadow at the edge of the wood won't be built on (unless it's passed on appeal). The project called for a road bridge over the beck at the point shown in this 1920s postcard. The Planning Committee made a site visit this morning before making the decision. In the sun-dappled shade this path into the wood looked idyllic.

Obviously, I'm enthusiastic about meadow, grove and stream, but a threat like this brings it home to me that I'm not alone.

In the wood, near the stream, shoulder-high Himalayan Balsam now has its orchid-like flowers. When first introduced to this country this exotic-looking plant was considered a greenhouse subject. Today it has invaded damp woodland and polluted riverside mud throughout the country.

A low evening sun throws textures into relief while a breeze dimples the dark waters of the canal. As we stand on the old iron bridge I notice that the pitted iron has just the same texture.

During the long summer evening, colour gradually drains from the landscape. Fussy foliage becomes simplified into blocks of tone. Seen through sunglasses it reminds me of the techniques of etching; aquatints, hatching and burnishing out to give highlights.

Richard Bell,
wildlife illustrator
E-mail; 'richard@daelnet.co.uk'