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Reflections. May 9, 2012

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature.
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Here are some shots of reflected scenes, now that the wind has finally  died down.

From North Pond up in Savoy, red maple catkins viewed through an evening fog:

The muted forest amplified itself in the tannic waters:

Up the shoreline, three locals drank beer and waited indifferently for the fish to bite.  One of them, seeing my camera, put down his Budweiser and mooned me.  But I was too slow to inflict that horror on you, and just got this view of the “action:”

And lastly, a shot from this afternoon, of a sunken walkway at the edge of a pond in New Hampshire:

It was far less foggy, but the composition caught my eye.

I hope you enjoy seeing them as much as I enjoyed finding them.




North Pond, Before The Snow. January 11, 2012

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature.
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Rumor has it that the next couple of days will deliver us from our present brownscape with a splattering of snow, sleet and freezing rain.

I’ve wished hard for the former, but will accept the latter with, um,  grace and resignation.

“The Latter” will likely compromise the just-now-forming pond ice up in Savoy.  I’ve been waiting for that, too, but those bogs seem to generate their own heat, and hadn’t yet been trustworthy to support the weight of interlopers like me.

None the less, not wanting to miss what I’ve waited so long for, I headed up to Savoy State Forest this afternoon and ventured out onto North Pond, where a couple of ice fishermen attested to the likelyhood that I’d not perish in a watery grave.  “Five inches,” one proclaimed as I headed out onto the ice, and as he had chopped several fishing holes, I figured he knew more than I did.

The late afternoon light found the growing pond ice crawling up the sides of the granite boulders jutting from its shallows, shattering and melting and refreezing beneath a sky of gathering clouds:

In the long run, the ice will win.  But for these present seasons, the granite will bend the ice to its will and weight, sending it skyward to wither in the dry air.

I continued along the pond’s edge, skirting thin spots as they appeared.  A fallen log, rotted and infested with insects, lay as a feast for boring birds and dotted with their drillings:

…though the pristine ice suggested that the borings had happened while the tree stood upright.

Farther along, a mysterious mound jutted from the shoreline beneath a storm-damaged tree:

…A beaver lodge!

I circumnavigated it, knowing that these industrious critters keep passageways open for easy access, and approached cautiously from the other side:

A patch of thin ice separated me from the lodge as I stood listening to a loud, rapid munching from within, punctuated by ecstatic, wheezy moans of pleasure.  It was a delightful moment in my day, and I spent quite a while standing there as silently as possible, smiling like a child.  🙂

Then I crept closer to the thin-ice access used by the tenants to get to the shore and the fresh woody shoots which provide the bark they eat.  Here their dooryard canal is roofed over by a canopy of thin ice pushed up by the last cold night and constrained by the season’s accrual of denser matter:

Beavers are amazing, both for their engineering feats and for their social structures.  I’m good with having them protected, though I understand the arguments of folks whose properties and water wells are compromised by their unbridled industry.

Well.  Onward.

Along the way I spotted a bit of color in the ice, which turned out to be a fisherman’s minnow, laid to rest in the cold grey ground of his birth:

But the light was waning, and the temps were dropping as the sun dived toward the horizon.

So I set up for a shot of the partly cloudy skies going all Technicolor and stuff.

Well, they didn’t.  What I got instead was another detail of a granite interruption to the ice’s dictum, with a bit of color to set it off:

Not spectacular, but still, it gives me a chance to share what I saw with you, my friends.

All of these are brought to you by Elliot, my Canon L-series TS-E II tilt-shift lens.  What it lacks in compositional flexibility, it makes up for in front-to-back clarity.

Next,  the aftermath of this oncoming weather event.

Cheers, – R

B-Team Mug Shots. October 26, 2011

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature.
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Here’s a slightly sorry line-up of Usual Suspects who didn’t quite make the cut – photos which have sat around long enough on my desktop so that it’s time to either use ’em or lose ’em.  They’re not my best work, but just as we Plain Folk deserve to find happiness, these photos ought to be seen before being recycled.

A riverside granite outcrop in NH:

Wet Paint taken not far from there:

That NH She-moose in a casual moment of herbaceous bliss:

And another framing of North Pond in Savoy:

There.  Now I can clear these stragglers off of my desktop without feeling like I abandoned my children without acknowledging them.


Hobblebush. October 16, 2011

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature.
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That’s Viburnum lantanoides  to you ‘Mericuns:

…here all ablaze with the lights of the season.  This was taken on Friday evening; I intended to get back there this morning before sunrise, but the incessant wind changed my plans.

Oh well.  Other scenes will evolve, and with a modicum of luck I’ll stumble across a few of them.

Thanks to Elliot for the slight tilt which makes this shot crisp from front to back, despite the low light and persistent breeze.



North Pond, Savoy MA October 14, 2011

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature.
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It rained again all day at work, letting up a bit at the end, and I thought things might have an interesting look up at the ponds in Savoy State Forest.  So I went up there, threw on a pair of waders, and wandered around the shoreline of North Pond, stopping and hunkering over my camera when the rain thickened, setting up and shooting when it lightened up.

I was fortunate that the breaks were relatively crisp, allowing me to use hand-held filters without them getting overly wet.

The results:

A reflection and sedges in between bouts of wind:

High Country granite catches a maple leaf in a cove:

With each bout of wind a floatilla of fallen leaves paraded across the surface, passing through my tripod:

This little parting of the clouds brought a stiff breeze and a steady parade of surface confetti in the waning light:

That was a four second shot, and with the light disappearing and the rain returning, I made my way back to the car.

And that’s what I got.

Stopping By A Pond. September 22, 2008

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature, Love and Death.
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Along the road home from work, a slight detour.  A short walk beneath brooding clouds.  Patient waiting at the water’s edge.

And then, a faint ray searches for and finds your shadowed form, the intensity of your face, your essence reflected in your Mother’s mirror.

I tremble at the sight of your trembling

and take from you the gift

of Love.