Spring Geometries

In northern latitudes, the return of the sunlight in spring is always cause for celebration. Unless, of course, your vacuum cleaner has been sealed behind a cupboard door for four months by a pile of dusty books... I noted with amusement the National Geographic News headline last week: "Dust Older Than The Sun Found In Earth's Atmosphere". We're saying nothing. Dust can be very pretty, though: I can sit all morning and watch the cosmic journeying of motes and specks through sunbeams. Who needs Hubble? (Hey, isn't that a kid's book about dust?)

Much as I love to see its return, though, I am inevitably reminded that pretty much everything I dislike is intimately associated with summer sun, whether it be sunbathing, beach holidays, cold food, bothersome flies, or simply being too hot and/or too humid; I will also really miss wearing my favourite coat. But, don't mind me, I expect you can't wait to tear off your shirt to display your ripped abs on the beach...

If you're a photographer, there's a window of opportunity of about eight weeks when virtually every day brings a new and interesting combination of sun, cloud, mist, angle of light, and all the colours seem freshly minted. But then come the summer months of blank overhead sunshine and harsh shadows when -- bizarrely -- everyone else is blowing off the dust from the camera that they put away in September; just when I'm thinking, "Is there really any point lugging this thing into work today?"










N.B. In this last image, do you see the tiny reflected residential house crushed in the space beneath the gleaming university juggernaut? I suspect that expresses pretty well how the neighbours of the campus feel about the university.