The corner of the Leighton Beach footbridge is a wonderful vantage point to admire an ever retreating sun.  The wind generally whips up the coast towards the camera’s vantage point and while blustery, is often very refreshing after a long hot summer day.

The flash of colour on the left hand side of the image is not an alien spacecraft and is instead an artifact created by the angle of the sun and the glass of the lens; it’s usually an undesired element, but sometimes I feel it adds to the intensity of the moment.  The sun is literally so bright that you’re seeing stars.

Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth a little.  This shot wasn’t taken with my wide angle lens, but as I came across it tonight I figured it was too good not to post.  There are still remnants of the old rail workings at the Leighton Beach rail yard.

Rails are so linear and rigid, yet their lines can be very useful in drawing an eye to the horizon, or in highlighting something at their juncture.  There’s also the added allure of decaying structure and form as the grass and weeds slowly reclaim the land.

As a photographer I’m perpetually torn between using my wide angle (16-35mm) lens and my wide to telephoto (28mm to 300mm) lens.  I learnt my craft on the latter however the former revolutionised my way of seeing things.  It was quite a mindshift to think about the additional width that the lens gives you and just how to take photos to fully take advantage of that.

I’m still honing that skill, but an image like this makes me want to never take it off of the camera.  Of course, as soon as I think that, I see a situation and ultimately a photo that disagrees.  Certainly, when I was first starting out, it sure was easier to have a fixed lens, because, then it didn’t matter.

Freedom is both a blessing and a curse.  I’m not complaining, mind.

Baby, baby, baby, light my way.

The strong south westerly winds we’ve been cursed with this year manage to dredge up all sorts of miscellania onto the beach, though even more tends to appear in the autumn when the strong ocean currents kick.

Looking fresh from a japanese restaurant, the afternoon offerings could do with some soy sauce.

Bennion Beach is a dog friendly beach which always lends itself to a myriad of frantically placed footsteps near the water’s edge.  Each animal that wanders the beach (human included) leave their own unique mark, but none perhaps so frenetic as the canine.

In other news, I’ve posted the back story for the recent Kings Park series featuring the boab tree.  Another trip is due there shortly.

An ever lengthening continuation of my fascination of how we shape our environment and attempt to communicate sans language.  Shiny, yellow and red don’t any way detract from the attraction.

As I probably tended to go on a bit about on my old site, I’m a huge fan of how things change over time and also taking the time to document them in my short passage on the face of the earth.

Bennion Beach has been a very happy photographic hunting ground for me ever since I moved to Perth and it’s nice to know that nothing has changed.  A trip there  a couple of weekends ago to watch a somewhat lack lustre sunset (it looked promising with smoke hanging in the air) was still saved by the immeasurable beauty of this part of the coastline including the occasional rusty pole.  Some more images from this trip will follow over the next few days.

Part of the Kings Park War Memorial is a 180° semi circle that includes inscriptions of many of the theatres of wars that Australian soldiers fought in.

One of the other aspects of the wall is its wonderful ability to transfer sound.  Due to the delightful laws of physics, a person can sit at each end and simply by speaking under their breath easily relay messages to the other person without anyone outside hearing.  Unless, of course, they choose to sit in the middle of you!

The deliciously Western Australia Kangaroo Paw commands the centre of attention in a sea of planted colour in one of the Kings Park’s wildflower gardens.