Out Like A Lion
Bad weather is good for photography, so with today's heavy clouds and rain showers, I just had to get out to capture the interesting light. It was quite cold, and the wind was brutal, which made it feel even colder. But oh, that lovely, stormy sky!
Mountainside Morning
Rising and getting out early is easier when you're sleeping in a tent. Muted daylight begins filtering through before dawn, and the songs of birds are not impeded, but become the most gentle and delightful alarm clock.
It’s All About That Light
It's true that in some ways pop music really is all about the bass, as folks like Meghan Trainor and Joe Mariencheck have pointed out, but when it comes to photography, it's all about the light.
Life Cycle
At the marsh yesterday morning, the light was fun, by which I mean it was highly variable, always providing something good but never staying in one place.
Snow In The Woods
New Year's Eve is a challenge. To me, I mean. A personal gauntlet thrown down. A direct challenge, from an unknown, unnamed, unseen, belligerent opposition, to me, personally and directly. A challenge to be faced down and dealt with, or to slink away from in ignominious timidity and humiliation.
Miners Castle
Here upon the southern shore of the Great Lake we call Superior, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow set the tale of Hiawatha, the legendary warrior of the Ojibwe (Chippewa) tribe, and his Dakota wife, Minnehaha.
Mosquito Falls
I have a confession: I don't usually enjoy photographing waterfalls. I enjoy waterfalls very much, and I like to visit them, to look at them and listen to them. But the process of creating photographs of them is often not much fun. There are several reasons for this.
Roy G. Biv
The wind at the shore of violent Lake Superior had been harsh and cold, but as the trail re-entered the woods, the protective trees wrapped me in calm. Each step got quieter. About a half-mile in, all was tranquil.
Autumn At The Creek
As I trudged along the trail through the woods, the sound of the creek kept me company, its happy chatter following every twist and turn. In brief snatches, I could see the water through the trees and undergrowth, but had no clear opportunity to catch a portrait. Then a bend in the creek and curve in the trail nearly touched at a point where the trees thinned just a little and left a gap.
Arboretum Color
While my granddaughter was visiting yesterday, I asked her if there was anything special she'd like to do, and she chose to visit the arboretum. It's been a special place to her since she was a toddler, and I'm so happy that she has good memories of all the times we went there….
Fallen But Not Finished
In the woods, among large trees, the trail takes a turn, and in late afternoon the dappled light reveals a fallen giant. With massive limbs supporting the broken trunk, holding it high above the ground, it appears to be struggling to get back up, as if too proud to simply collapse to the floor.
The Most Civil Society
I agree with Stevenson. When I start upon a woodland trail, I feel that I am entering very civil society indeed. The trees are friendly and welcoming. The small creatures of the wood scurry all about, rustling leaves, stopping to stare curiously but unperturbed about sharing their living space. Bushes and boughs wave companionably as I wander past. The trees towering above offer me shade and shelter, as well as beauty and comfort.
Anniversary Sky
On October 15th, 1978, Wanda and I were married. We were engaged only three weeks, but we had spent more than four years falling in love. It was absolutely amazing to me that when I finally said, "Will you?" she said, "Yes!" I knew then, and have known ever since, that I was the luckiest man in the world.
Driftwood
The course that brought this driftwood here has been long and twisted. Once, it stood strong among a family of trees. But as it aged, it was beaten by wind and storm, until the strain brought it down, broken, to the ground. Relentless, the waters pushed and battered it, sending it tumbling against rocks, catching and clinging for awhile, then torn loose again by the pounding water, until it was disgorged with the stream to lie here upon the shore.
Ripples In Still Water
I sat gazing across Jordan Pond in Acadia, under stunning blue sky, with sunshine that did not provide warmth against the continuous chilly breeze blowing across the lake. I was watching the ripples march across in front of me, with the cold sunlight filtering through to make dancing waves of brightness and shadow across the rocks beneath the clear water. As I watched the ripples, my eyes clouded, and my inner ear heard the song lyrics: