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More From The River’s Edge. May 2, 2010

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The evening sun barely penetrates the rising river:

…while bluetts cling to water-worn schist:

Darkness falls, and I’m heading home to get tucked in.

After The Rain. May 2, 2010

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The Deerfield River rises, confusing its surface with the air above:

River grasses bathe in the resulting mist:

Elliot earned his keep on that last one, capturing both the seedheads at 18 inches and the birches at a hundred yards.

Thanks, T.S.

My Morning Drive. April 2, 2010

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This morning the moon was out, contemplating setting in the west, scooting behind hills and reappearing as I drove.  The river was rising around me as it does when the nights are cool and damp and the day dawns clear.

I caught the moon as it ducked too slowly behind a hemlock-clad hill:

…and the risen river of vapor as it stole silently across the fields, embracing and releasing trees,

…rising in undulating strands up the enclosing hillsides as the sun also rose:

It was a hasty juggling act, the river fog taken with my point-and-shoot shoved out the passenger side window, the moon lassoed by Gizmo, propped up on the driver’s side mirror.

My work schedule is the antithesis of flexible, so it was all very rushed.

Still, it was a better-than-average ride to work.

Self Portrait. September 2, 2009

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On a Summer’s eve, with a fog rising from the fields:

sunset in fog

Namaste.

Random Rain Shots. July 5, 2009

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From this past week.

Zoar Gap on the Deerfield River:

zoar gap

A farm in fog:

horse in fog

A butterfly alight on hawkweed:

butterfly on hawkweed

We’re depending on these guys and others for pollenatiion this year, as most of the blooming season has passed in the rain, which bees don’t much care for.

And sphagnum moss, loving the interminable wetness, puts out some cool little structures:

moss structures

I thought these were berries or flowers or something, but recently I was told that moss has no such parts, it predating the development of sexual structures in plants.

All I can say is, they sure look like little berries to me, unwrapping from the terminal leaves of their respective stalks:

moss structures

More research is called for, I guess!

To The Sea. June 25, 2009

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I had planned to go to the White Mountains of New Hampshire this past weekend, to climb Mount Washington to its Alpine Garden, a plateau at about five thousand feet elevation, where plants generally found a thousand miles farther north might be found blooming in June, diminutive, hearty and a long way from the road.

But the forecast called for Suck, and I changed my plans.

I went to the beach instead.

Where the weather Sucked as well, but it wasn’t a lethal sucking, as the White Mountains are famous for, but rather a gentle sucking,  as one might wish for when at the beach.

Anyway.

It was cool and windy and gray, with an insistent wind driving a fine mist horizontally, perfect for a first day of summer in the tropical paradise of Massachusetts:

raincoats

The cheeriest thing about this scene was the Teutonic seawall separating Nature and Man, and the reassuring sense that Man wasn’t up to the challenge.

But as all clouds have their silver linings, the local surfers dug the wind-whipped world, ignoring the rain ’cause, hey, they’re soaked anyway!

surfers

I, on the other hand, was bummed.  It was a long drive to come up with no photographs, but setting up in the wind and rain was hard to get psyched for.

So I sought out nooks and crannies in the seaside flora, trying to find a refuge from the wind without stepping in some college girl’s refuge from the wind;

Trust me, stay out of the bushes when you’re at the beach.

But there were copious roses and lots of poison ivy, two plants which hold their own in the Urban Wild, because nobody wants to mess with them:

beach roses

Pretty flowers, atmospheric conditions not withstanding:

roses

I struggled valiantly against the wind, then surrendered,  crossing the road to the inland side to photograph a marsh:

sea lillies

and its stalwart inhabitants:

ducks

…including a few baby swans:

swanlettes

…whose Momma was busy trying to mooch food from us motorists.  And a gull bathing with a fury:

gull

He was funny.

But as much fun as this was, I missed the urgency of the sea, so after I indulged in a ten dollar clam roll I headed south to Plum Island, a  bit of wilderness on Boston’s north shore.

The wind was stiff there as well:

windy tree

…but the resident water fowl didn’t seem to mind:

egret

The long, slow drive to the parking lot at the end of the dirt road deposited me in the company of hard-core fishermen, lost hikers and a rare glimpse of isolation just a few miles north of a major American city:

rocks

…with tall waves pounding the rocky shore as gulls scavenged the pools for stranded unfortunates.  It was as desolate and pure as one has any right to expect, being this close to millions of fellow travelers:

empty beach

Hey, when the wind blows, photograph rocks.

I have a few more from this junket which may see daylight, but then again, perhaps that’s enough of the Poorly-Lit Subjects for one lifetime.

Ruby Tuesday: Rain In Two Venues. June 22, 2009

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It just won’t stop raining.  Day after day, for weeks it seems, brief glimpses of sun are smothered under dense clouds, buffetted by incessant winds, and unless one is possessed of impeccable technique and the fastest of lenses, photography comes to a grinding halt.

Enter the blessed variables of Piss Poor Judgment and Irrational Obsession, which conspire to send Yours Truely out into the maelstrom, MacIntosh flapping, umbrella inverted, with half a roll of paper towels jammed down my pants, looking for a reason to exhale slowly and depress the shutter.

This week’s meager gleanings include a shot of daisies dancing in the rain alongside a railroad siding by the Hoosac Tunnel:

daisies in the rain

If that looks scarcely ruby, trust me, there were red lights in there.

And later, a trip to the sea, hoping for some drama amidst the swirling mists.  By the time the salt air filled my nostrils it was long past dark, and I took advantage of a break in the rain to capture this shot of a well-lit steeple in Portsmouth, NH:

Portsmouth steeple

I liked the way the fog rolled by, holding and releasing the shadows and light.

A bit more conspicuously Ruby, that one.

More on my trip East later; for now, thanks to Mary at Work of the Poet for this Ruby meme.

The Cold, Cold River. May 11, 2009

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Our local Cold River is a seasonal thing, raging during the Spring thaw and swelling preposterously during periods of heavy Autumn rain.

But mostly, it’s a small, rocky creek in a deep, narrow valley.  And morning finds it casting off its quilt of mists and vapours, consolidating itself into a stream once again after an unobserved night off:

Cold fog

The transit runs both ways, with the river’s exhalations moistening the sky as the sun concentrates on vaporizing the aqueous world below:

foggy Cold river

I have to admit to loving it here, at the risk of proving myself to be provincial.  It’s not the most magnificent example of anything, it’s just what I know.

And I like it.

More Signs Of Spring. April 10, 2009

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The fabled season of rebirth is being elusive here in the Berkshires; a steady diet of cold, damp, foggy weather has been punctuated by bright days and the first wildflowers.

Here are a few shots from this past week.

A foggy dawn on the Chickley River:

fog on the chickley

Colt’s foot, with its lush flowers and strangely leafless stems, sprouts in the gravel at roadside:

colts foot at catamount

Water fowl cruise the beaches and sand bars of the Deerfield:

goose

The sheep have been shorn:

shorn sheep

…And love is in the air.  A wild tom turkey struts like a tipsy frat boy for an obviously disinterested hen:

tom turkey

…while a local Scottish Highland bull does, well, what bulls do:

randy gets some

Notice how impressed his date is.

Anyway, it’s coming, I mean, “imminent.”  And I’m talkin’ about Spring!

Odds ‘N’ Ends. December 1, 2008

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Random photos from the past week, some with snow and some without.  Sorry for the temporal non sequitur.

Inclement Weather – firs in a fog:

fir-fog-small

…and a snow squall in the High Country:

high-country-squall-small

…and an eddy in the West Branch of the Deerfield crystallizes on a sunless morning:

crazed-ice-small

Damned cold, it was.

Here’s something a tad greener, another shot from Williamstown:

chapel-at-williams-small

Similar to an Autumn shot I posted.

Here’s one of me deep in the bowels of a huge split boulder:

split-rock2-small

That felt kind of surreal.

And of course, a sunset, or what has come closest to passing for one this past week:

pink-cloud-small

And that is all.