Well I do really, it's more that it doesn't inspire me, it doesn't make my soul sing. Perhaps to some extent it's a case of familiarity breeding contempt. I am lucky enough to live somewhere where there's lots of pretty, thatched cottages, quaint streets etc. I find I have very little interest in taking photos of them.
Last week I visited Hilliers gardens near Romsey. Sir Harold Hillier was one of those adventurous types who headed for foreign climes to collect new plants and bring them back to the UK. The gardens were looking splendid, absolutely at their spring best, very pretty in fact. The star attraction was the magnolia avenue in glorious full bloom, very pretty indeed, so pretty I took a photo, but I don't like it. The magnolias became a blur of pink and white prettiness and from a distance you can't see the individual blooms (this may just say something about my lack of skill as a photographer of course).
What drew my attention instead was the interaction between the magnolias and the sculptures in the garden, or the white of the magnolia and the intense blue of the sky, the colours, textures and contrasts that capture the essence of the blossom for me. This is what makes my soul sing.
After the gardens I went into Romsey to have a look round. Plenty of pretty to be seen here, houses gardens etc. My eye was drawn to the abbey. Difficult to take a good photo of the outside, couldn't get the perspective, but inside was lovely. So many little details, shafts of sunlight coming through the windows and landing on different objects or parts of the building, but you couldn't call it pretty, glorious is more the word that springs to mind.