Serendipity

I needed an image for my book, that's being published later this year.

I needed something showing 'converging verticals' ... the sort of thing that happens when you try to photograph a building from ground level, and it comes out looking as if it's falling over backwards.

But I needed those 'converging verticals' exaggerated - the point I was trying to illustrate being that, if you can't overcome a problem (and it's not easy to photograph a building from anything other than ground level) then make a feature of it. Play on it. Go over the top.

This morning the sun was shining, the sky was blue, so I set out to find some strong converging verticals.

In the end I found them - a beautiful old red-brick chimney beside a modern office block. A lovely contrast. I got down as low as I could, as close as I could, with the widest-angle lens I have, and ...

But, as I was wandering in search of this image, I came across something else.

In the wine-growing village of Féchy, where I was trying this technique with the church steeple, I spotted an inconspicuous little sign ...

Vines of the world', 35 metres.

I followed it and found a delightful little garden, on the hillside beneath the church, containing specimens of vines from all over the world - France, Australia, Roumania, Chile, and others - each vine carefully labelled with its name and country of origin.

At this time of year they're just pruned stumps - nothing much to look at. But in late summer it will be fascinating to go back there and see the different varieties of grape ripening.

That's the great thing about photography. You can set out to take a photograph on one subject, and then find all sorts of other interesting things on the way.

It's probably because you've got your eyes open.