As I mentioned on Sunday, our wildflowers are about 3 weeks late here in Southern Maine. Lady Slippers are generally in full bloom on Mother’s Day. This year, this past Saturday at Rachel Carson National Wildlife Headquarters, all but a few were still in the green bud stage as above…still more than a few sunny days away from bloom…and we aren’t expecting any sun until at least Thursday of this week. Maybe next weekend they will have popped.
There is one spot, on the back side of the loop trail at Rachel Carson, where they have cut a new opening out to the marsh and built a new deck…new two years ago that is. Below the deck, on the slope facing the sun most of the morning, is where Lady Slippers will first be in bloom if they are in bloom anywhere, and this year was no exception. I found 5 or 6 plants and 6 or 7 blooms…but oh how pale compared to last spring’s show. Still, they are always magnificent. Ours are the Pink variety.
The new camera allows an even closer approach than last year, and I took advantage of all the macro it has to offer in the second and fifth shots. This new lens has wonderful bokeh, assisted, I suspect by a little in camera digital wizardry!
Nikon Coolpix P500 in Close Up Scene mode, 32mm equivalent field of view at anything from 6 inches to 3/4 inch. All images at f3.7 and ISO 160, shutter speeds from 1/200th to 1/640th.
Processed for Clarity and Sharpness in Lightroom. (I have added a bit on the Lightroom processing required with the new camera on my Lightroom processing page here or via the link in the header.)
Happy Sunday! Normally by the 22nd of May, you only find a few late blooming Trillium, but our spring wildflowers are running almost 3 weeks late in Southern Maine this year, and a visit to Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge head-quarters yesterday, during our first break after 6 days of steady rain, turned them up in full bloom. We have the Painted variety here, though I grew up with the Red Trillium in up-state New York. My mother called it blood-root…I thought because of the color of the flower…but it turns out that in herbal medicine the rhizome is sometimes used to treat female blood aliments. There is another plant actually called bloodroot, but my mother often used the names for plants and birds that were common in rural up-state New York, the names she grew up with, rather than those found in any reference book. It was years before I realized that her wild canary was actually a Common Goldfinch.
And in researching Trillium this morning, I found that what look like leaves above ground are actually bracts, with the true leaves occurring underground, wrapping the rhizome. The bracts of Trillium do, unlike some brachs, actually act like leaves, since they have chlorophyll and are the only source of food for the plant…stranger and stranger.
These two shots, by the way, are at opposite extremes. The first was taken with macro at the “best” setting of 32mm equivalent field of view (best as selected by the Macro Scene Mode: the setting that gives closest focus and the largest image scale), and the second was taken with macro at the long end of the zoom…810mm equivalent…since the flowers were beyond easy reach behind a rail. Macro as set by the camera allows you to get within 2 cm, or about 3/4 inch, for views like the one below.
All the shots were handheld.
Nikon Coolpix P500, 1) and 3) Macro at 32mm equivalent, 3) Macro at 810mm equivalent. 1) f3.7 @ 1/400th @ ISO 160, 2) f5.7 @ 1/320th @ ISO 160, and 3) f3.7 @ 1/320th @ ISO 160. Macro mode evidently does some digital trickery to extend the foreground depth of field, while throwing the background further out of focus than it would normally be, as all three shots have more of the look of macros taken with larger sensors and conventional macro lenses…not with a small senor, short focal length, Point and Shoot.
And for Sunday: I picked the Trilliums this morning, from among recent images, for their beauty and for some vague association in my mind with the trinity…and with incarnation. The three pure white petals stained purple red, blood red, at the center. Maybe it is kind of abstract…but to me that is the wonder of the incarnation…purity that bleeds, producing beauty. But the real blessing came in learning a bit more about the plant…for instance it is illegal to pick it in many states and some provinces of Canada…and in remembering my mother, when I was maybe 6 or 7 at the oldest, taking me out to the woods in the spring to look for what she called blood-root. She would never let me pick it either. It was just something she enjoyed finding, and took the time to show me. And that too, is the wonder of incarnation. Love in the blood.
When we bought our home in Kennebunk, 16 years ago, I went to the Dollar Store in Wells, and bought a few plants for the yard. I paid $1.00 for a little stick with a few roots, about 1/2 inch through at its thickest, more dead than alive, and brought it home and planted it near the stump of what had clearly been a very large pine tree. My wife made some attempt to keep it pruned over the years, but today the trunk is 14 inches through and it stands taller then the peak of the roof of our story-and-a-half home. Each year it throws more blossoms: delicate and beautiful. Each year I look at it and remember that hopeless stick I rescued from a pile at the Dollar Store…and marvel that it has turned into this majestic tree that showers us with blossoms as the Creator showers us with blessings. Since the height of its bloom is always around Mother’s Day, it serves as a celebration of our time in our home, and of the woman who makes it one, my wife Carol. Happy Mother’s Day.
And that is really all the Sunday thought I have…and all I need. Thank you God, for this life we live together, for our children, for our home, for the absolute blessing and miracle of Cherry blossoms from a half dead stick. Who would have believed?
Nikon Coolpix P500. Processed for clarity and sharpness in Lightroom.
Happy Sunday. Happy Mother’s Day.
The Maples are red. Not the leaves this season, but the flowers. From a distance it is a subtle red that teases the eye, except where the maples mass, and then it can be quite striking. Even standing right under a tree the flowers are more a promise than a reality. Only when you get right in close do you see them for what they are…things of real beauty. These are wet with a heavy dew.
Nikon Coolpix P500 on macro, 1) 620mm equivalent field of view, f5.7 @ 1/200th @ ISO 160, 2) 115mm, f4.7 @ 1/200th @ ISO 160, and 3) 68mm, f4.7 @ 1/320th @ ISO 160. Program mode.
The three shots show the different effects of macro at various settings of the zoom, visible most clearly in the bokeh.
Processed for intensity and clarity in Lightroom. (The Nikon takes a very similar processing to my Canon SX20IS.)
My original Easter post follows, but I could not resist updating with this image from this morning. This, better than any words I could say, says Easter to me.
The Lily is not an Easter Lily, and neither, of course, are the Daffodils…but Happy Easter anyway. To me they carry the Easter Morning feeling. Resurrection in all its glory…in all HIS glory. And overflowing praise which has to be our response.
And these are first results of yet another new camera. The Fujifilm HS20 EXR I have been experimenting with the past few days went, with regrets (but no doubts), back to Amazon. I bought another camera to try yesterday morning. Free advice: never buy a new camera on a raining hard, almost snowing, day. I was reduced to shooting flowers and knickknacks in doors…at the end, with flash!
Still, there is a sunny side. I have these shots for Easter morning!
The top one is natural light. The bottom one is flash. Both are on the macro setting. Both are handheld, testing the limits of the camera’s image stabilization.
Nikon Coolpix P500. 1) 60mm equivalent field of view, f4.5 @ 1/15th @ ISO 400. 2) 370mm equivalent, f5.6 @ 1/60th @ ISO 200.
Processed in Lightroom for intensity (very lightly) and clarity. I actually had to turn Vibrance down a notch.
And of course, I have absolutely nothing to say about Easter that has not been said a thousand times before by better men and women than I. It is glorious. It is wonderful. It is amazing. It is the doorway that opens us to an encounter with a living savior…not perhaps the guarantee of our faith…but its ultimate affirmation. What you experience on Easter morning, in the end (and in the beginning) says everything about who you are. I rejoice at the risen one…and I want the whole world to rejoice with me. That is Easter. That is me.
On my photo walk last Saturday, spring just was not happening all that much, but I found a brave display of moss and lichen along a new trail through a little patch of public use land donated to the town recently. This is a rather small stump, in the scale of things, but well decorated. In the light of an early spring morning it builds possibilities in the mind. Kind of an alternative scenery for Saturday.
Canon SX20IS at 28mm equivalent and super-macro. F7.1 @ 1/30th @ ISO 80. I used Program Shift to select the smaller aperture for added depth of field.
Processed in Lightroom for intensity and clarity (see Lightroom Processing page above).
Happy Sunday! A play of textures, set off by the contrast between the brilliant red of the rosehip and the white of the snow. I also like the way the red of the rosehip has absorbed enough heat from the sun to melt the snow around it and create a little frame for itself. The thorns, to my eye, give it an extra appeal.
For this shot I used the tele-macro on the Canon SX20IS, shooting from a standing position and well back, but still getting the macro effect. 560mm equivalent field of view, f5.7 @ 1/800th @ ISO 80. Snow Mode.
Processed for intensity and clarity in Lightroom. Cropped from the left to eliminate a distracting out of focus twig, and from the right slightly to more or less restore “rule of thirds” composition.
This is part of the sequence of grand snowscapes I shot on Friday. You saw one of them yesterday, taken only a few moments before. As part of my photographic discipline I have trained myself to always, in every situation, spend at least some time looking down, looking close, thinking small…even when the grand vista is compelling. There is often something worth my attention right at my feet. No…there is almost always something interesting right at my feet, if I take the time to look. And often, looking close produces an image which opens out with as much contrast and texture and pattern as the full landscape.
Without trying to stretch the metaphor too much, I think there is a spiritual truth there. I would not like to think that, in the grand and thrilling sweep of eternal values that opens to the spiritual eye, I would ever lose the intimate details, the small beauty of what is right at my feet. The poets say the universe is contained in a single grain of sand…or, say I, in a rosehip in the snow.
Certainly this is the only plant flowering in January at Saco Heath, and you have to look down in the cracks between the broken boards of the boardwalk to find it. Not that it is hard to find. That red really stands out, especially against the dusting of snow down there in the crack.
Canon SX20IS at 28mm equivalent and Super Macro, f2.8 @ 1/400th @ ISO 160, Programmed auto.
Processed in Lightroom for intensity and clarity.
On my photo walk last Saturday, the lack of grand landscape and towering skies turned my focus close, to look at the little things…small details of the landscape that have their own story to tell. Ice formed at the high tide mark by a mixture of sea and fresh water, half a mile up a small tidal creek, surrounds your typical Southern Maine gravel mix for some interesting textures, patterns, and subtle colors.
Canon SX20IS at about 230mm equivalent and macro. F5 @ 1/320 @ ISO 127. Programmed auto. I love the tele macro feature on the SX20IS. No stooping for macros anymore for my old knees. 🙂
Processed for intensity and clarity in Lightroom.
Happy Sunday!
As I said yesterday, the peat bog at Quoddy Head State Park is a vibrant habitat. I don’t know how it looks in spring or summer, but in fall, the dense mix of mosses and lichens, in shades of red and green (and even white) form a rich carpet, dotted with an amazing abundance of pitcher plants, most of which in this season are deep red or even purple. The closer you look the more inspiring it becomes. The contrasts of color and texture and form, and the variety packed into every square foot, are, to my eye, wonderfully beautiful.
It makes me want, as few habitats to, to study…to find out what all these plants are and how they are related. The carpet of the bog is so alive…I want to know how it works. There has to be a fascinating story in anything so intricate and so beautiful.
And, of course (being Sunday), while there is certainly a science that makes up the story, for me it will always be the story of a Creator from whom I inherit the eye and the heart that can appreciate such intricate beauty: that can stand in awe and respond in worship.
This is the kind of environment and the kind of work that brings out the best in the Canon SX20IS. This set of shots runs from one end of the macro zoom range to the other; several would have been very difficult, shooting from the narrow boardwalk, without the lip out LCD viewer; and the detail shots, in the dim light of foggy day, are all at an impressive ISO 200. And I can fully appreciate the beauty in Canon’s accomplishment as well.
Of course, I do plan a trip back to Quoddy Head in the spring to see what the peat bog looks like then!