jump to navigation

Reflections. November 11, 2010

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature.
Tags: , , , , ,

This evening’s sky was dreadfully clear, and thus unlikely to produce much of a sunset.  But on a hunch that the wind which had blown moderately all day might die down at dusk, I headed up to some high marshes and ponds to see what there was to see.

The wind didn’t quite quit, but it slacked up enough to get these reflections.

A beaver pond up in Windsor:

Mr Beaver glided through this scene moments after I snapped this shot, but as my exposure time was two seconds, I enjoyed watching him rather than getting all busy trying to photograph him.

Then the sky pinked up, not in a fireworks kind-of way, but rather in a pastel haze kind-of way, and I got these cat-tails posing tranquilly:

A short ways farther down the road, Plainfield Pond was catching the last of the delicate sky, this view being to the North:

That last one’s with a half degree of tilt and a two-stop graduated filter, which gave me a pretty good foreground at a really wide aperture.

Thanks again, Elliot!

Freight Train Wind March 11, 2008

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature.
Tags: , ,

Sunday’s walk-about was a trip – the rains of the preceding days had penetrated and consolidated the snow pack, then frozen it solid, not in the shiny-crust way, but more in the glacial nevé way. Walking in the steep hills necessitated a step by step evaluation of traction and penetration, and many detours to avoid icy areas with dangerous run-outs.

On top of this, the wind was roaring through the forest, the trees waving frenetically, bowing in obeisance, all but prostrating themselves to the torrent lest they lose their heads.

I’ve seen many a stately crown come down in these conditions, the upper half of a mighty oak or maple or beech suddenly snapped from its trunk, translated leeward, and dropped like a so-many-ton lawn dart, penetrating the frozen ground by a yard, and God help any living thing which drew the straw of being there at that moment.

I moved with one eye on the frantic antics of the trees and the other on the icy conditions underfoot. It was not a relaxing walk, but a powerful one, with legs and back coiled reflexively, and heightened senses transmitting every nuance of the day to the primal consciousness which had supplanted my rational thoughts.

There were few photos taken; I had eschewed my tripod in favor of a sharp-tipped adjustable ski pole, and at any rate, the turbulent matrix of carbon and water and air surrounding me wasn’t going to pause for my photographic muse.

I came home with a scant few images snatched from the maelstrom; a clump of white birch:


Some outcrops of banded gneiss, golden in the late day sun:


A mossy boulder incased in the icy spray of a small falls:


I ended the day with a quick trip up to Plainfield Pond to catch the last long, low rays of the Sun:


…and its dramatic Exit, Stage West,


…then a few moments of pastel tranquility as the light, and the wind, finally faded: