I took a walk around the loop trail at Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge Headquarters Friday morning after our last 4 inches of snow. It was early. The forest was still, the snow lay undisturbed, and the shadows were long. It was altogether wonderful.
This image needs to be viewed full screen to see what I saw in it. It was the light coming through the sharp drift of snow on the branch that caught my eye, but then, as I lifted the camera, some minor movement higher in the trees…maybe just a branch flexing as the sun touched the cold center of it…shook loose a million tiny frost crystals which fell through the light. I was not at all sure that the camera would catch them…or even the primary light through the snow on the branch…but it did. A little processing in Snapseed clarified the effects.
And for the Sunday Thought: I woke this morning from one of those dreams that feels like it has larger significance, and lay there, as I sometimes do (as you probably sometimes do) in that plasma state between waking and sleep where the mind examines the dream and pushes it out along its streams of significance…making sense of it…or, as it sometimes happens…rearranging our sense of reality just enough to contain the significances of the dream. I had reached one of those points of singular illumination, where many things that I had thought and done before were connected by a web of light, and where the web stretched at least a little way past where I am…before I shook off sleep completely and turned over. I then lay there and wondered what I was supposed to do with it? How could I share it? How could I even begin to weave a conscious web of insight and words that would convince anyone else…or even connect with anyone else’s experience enough to be understood? And yet I felt, and still feel, a deep conviction that I am supposed to share…not the message of the dream, specifically…but the message of my life so far…that sharing it is what I am tasked, asked, and expected to do.
About then was when I remembered that it is Sunday. That it is is time for the Sunday Thought. That my first task of the day would be to find an image from the past few days to post that would carry the freight of a Sunday Thought.
This image. This is one of the places where the spirit shows through…where it is more than usually obvious that life is matter animated by spirit…that the world we live in is alive…and that it is all a great dance of being. Snow on a branch. Frost crystals falling. Light and shadow. Image and reality. Dreams and waking. Knowing and sharing.
It is all about the light shining through.
I am pretty sure these are Persimmon trees. We don’t have them in Maine, but in Cape May NJ, in the little patch of forest behind the dunes at Cape May Lighthouse State Park, they are among the most common trees. In summer all you see is the green crown, but fall shows off the fantastic forms the limbs take, in their living reach for the sky and light. There is a logic all its own the the growth of trees, and something to be learned from observing them. Unfortunately their lifetimes are considerably longer than ours. We never see anything but the latest episode, and have to use our own logic to trace back to what might have come before…the the forces, internal and external, that shaped the tree we see. And, when considering trees, our logic has to be suspect. Trees have a living logic all their own.
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F in Rich Tone mode. Processed in Snapseed on the Samsung Galaxy Note 10.1 2014.
Last Wednesday, in honor of #waterfallwednesday, I posted an image of Cascade Falls and some info on the location…a local picnic and photo-op spot since, well, since before there were cameras. That image was all about the rush and tumble, the splash and splatter, the raw energy of the falling water.
This is the alternative view, taken on a tripod with the Samsung Smart Camera WB800F’s waterfall mode, which takes a very long exposure (30 seconds or more) to blur the water to silk. This kind of shot generally involves neutral density filters on a DSLR, but the Samsung manages it all it’s own, using some kind of digital trickery to slow the shutter without burning out the highlights. 🙂
You are either a fan of the silky water effect or you are not. Anyone who has ever stood in front of a waterfall knows that the effect is purely a photographic artifact. Falling water just does not look like that. Still, the effect is so common in waterfall shots that some people apparently think that water can actually do that. I have mixed feelings. I can appreciate the beauty and the sense of peace that the silky water images capture and project…but I am under no illusions that they are real. They use a photographic technique to produce a mood that is simply not there, as a painter might. And that’s okay, I think. And they have a certain nostalgia to them…I mean, back in the days of slow film emulsions and 8×10 view cameras, any photograph of a waterfall in anything but full sun produced silky water. It was simply all the medium was capable of. Not so today. Silky water is now an artistic choice. And I think, at least on occasioin, a valid one.
Processed in Snapseed on the Samsung Galaxy Note 10.1 2014.
In a Redwood forest that has been cut, besides the rings of trees growing from the old roots of one of the fallen giants (see my previous post on the trees of Jack London State Park), you also find many of these double, tripple, quadruple trees, again, clearly, growing from a single root. The rings I think are essentially healty. All the trees in a ring, if it is big enough, have a chance to live. I am not so sure about the triple trees.
At any rate, this image is not about the trees, or only incidentally at any rate…it is about the light…the unique layered, filtered, highly patterned light of the forest floor. The challenging light, from a photographer’s point of view, of the forest floor. The beautiful light on the forest floor, from almost anyone’s point of view.
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F in Rich Tone mode (in-camera HDR). Processed in Snapseed on the Samsung Galaxy Note 10.1 2014.
I am in California for the Wine Country Optics Expo in Sonoma. Since the maker of the new digiscoping adapter for ZEISS lives near Sacramento, it provided an opportunity to film an instructional video. We needed a place that was relatively quiet (no interstate or heavy traffic noise…which is more of problem in the bay area than you might think…or might not…depending on whether you have spent much time there :-). We drove up through Sonoma to Jack London State Park. I had been there once years ago, and had memories of a quiet, relatively secluded spot. It worked out fine. The raw footage for the instructional video is, as they say, in the can…now we just have the editing.
Jack London State Park is, of course, the homestead of the famous writer. There are a number of historic houses and barns on the property, as well as vineyards, many huge eucalyptus trees, and groves of second growth Redwoods. It is, all in all, a lovely place to spend a day. After the videography, we took a walk up to the lake, a small pond Jack London built high on the hill above his house, mostly for bathing. The path goes through those second growth Redwoods.
You can tell they are second growth, and that the hillside was logged a century or more ago, by the many Redwood rings…stands of trees all of an age and size in a perfect circle, sometimes 20-30 feet across. The rings from around the stump of huge Redwoods when they are cut near the ground. The roots live on, and send up the ring of saplings. At Jack London State Park, these saplings have grown into tall trees, though, clearly, from the size of the rings alone, they are not a patch on the giants that grew there before the saw came.
Still, who could resist walking into the center of the largest rings, where the remnants of the stump have long turned to loam, and looking up? Who, with a camera in hand, could resist taking a few shots of the symmetrical trees rising into the sky? Not I!
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F in Rich Tone mode (in-camera HDR). Processed in Snapseed on the Samsung Galaxy Note 10.1 2014.
And for the Sunday Thought: The scientific name of the Coastal Redwoods includes sempervirens which can be translated as evergreen, or as ever living. Seeing the huge rings of trees rising from the roots of even greater trees at Jack London State Park makes me think that the ever living translation…in the sense of eternal…is not far off the mark. The trees that were cut on that hillside had to be close to 2000 years old. The trees that are growing from the roots have at least a chance to live as long. (All that would be required is some moderation on our part, and some healing in the atmosphere. There is at least some hope for that.) That is 4000 years for a single living thing, and, compared to our brief four score and twenty, 4000 years certainly looks like forever.
The rings of Redwoods are a testament to the tenacity of life…in the larger sense of all things that live. They only increase the sense of awe I feel in the presence of these giants. They are, in fact, what gives me hope that there is hope for moderation on our part and a healing in the atmosphere. I suspect that somewhere deep inside what makes us who we are, there is a respect, a reverence for life, a will to live that will compel us, somewhere short of irreparable damage, to make sure that those Redwoods, and our decendents, have at least the chance for a another 2000 years.
I believe that we are alive with the ever living spirit of all that lives…with the same sprit that animates the Redwoods…and that it is as eternal in us as it is them. I believe that that spirit that moves us, and that life will go on.
And that is easier to believe, standing in a ring of tall Redwoods at Jack London State Park.
There is a well grown stand of Atlantic White Cedars at the far end of the boardwalk at Saco Heath. The trail loops through the trees and back. A softwood sapling provides a splash of color along with the dying ferns of fall. And the light of a late afternoon in October sheds its glory over the whole scene.
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F in Rich Tone mode (in-camera HDR). Processed in Snapseed on the Nexus 7.
The acidic standing water in a wet Maine forest of mixed hardwoods and softwoods bleached the color out of the leaves of the past years, while a single red berry and a few of this year’s leaves provide vivid contrast. It has the look of an intentional work of art…but it is totally “found”…just as the natural processes of the forest made it.
All I had to do was to provided the frame. Found along the boardwalk through the forest on the way into Saco Heath.
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F in Rich Tone mode. Processed in Snapseed on the Nexus 7.
The leaves are turning. The leaves are falling. It is that time of year again. I found this leaf, fallen in just the right spot to catch some late afternoon sun shining through, along the shore of Old Falls Pond between Kennebunk and Sanford Maine. It was curled to stand just so…and I put the camera on macro mode and placed it practically on the ground for the shot.
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F. Processed in Snapseed on the Nexus 7.
Well, it seems to the the season for Garter Snakes with prey inside…even though the last one I saw was in a bush in Ohio, and this one is on the ground at Emmon’s Preserve in Kennebunkport ME. Other than that, they could be same snake. Same size. Same size lump. Lump in the same spot. And before these two snakes I had never seen the pattern of white scale edges that the distension reveals. Interesting.
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F. Program and macro. 216mm equivalent. f4.8 @ 1/60th @ ISO 400. Processed in Snapseed on the Nexus 7.
And one at around 500mm equivalent field of view.
I am always fascinated by the mushrooms of late summer and fall in our New England forests. Actually I am fascinated by mushrooms any time of year. 🙂 I found this bright specimen, which looks to me like a little soldier, along the Learning Trail at Emmon’s Preserve in Kennebunkport ME.
Samsung Smart Camera WB800F. Macro mode (28mm). f2.9 @ 1/45th @ ISO 100. Processed in Snapseed on the Nexus 7.