This picture feels a little like a gloomy Monday morning, even though I took it on a Friday.
I took this near our friend’s house at the beach in Carnon. I never tire of these minimalistic scenes because they leave much room for interpretation and reflection — however, calm thoughts were the last thing on my mind when I took this.
I was about to go for a swim and, the water was chilly. Getting in took two types of effort, one of the mind and one of the body. Neither my mind nor body was overly enthusiastic at the prospect. In the end, I completed the swim, which left the rest of the day to contemplate sweet nothing.
Lately, we have been getting a lot of rain. When that happens, it usually means you can count one thing, a sky full of colors in the evening.
When I took this image, I didn’t realize children were in the picture until later. I was too busy making sure I didn’t drop the camera in the water. In any case, it was a lucky happenstance caused by the wide-angle of the lens.
All good things are fleeting and come to an end. But taking photos is a passion for me, partly because it saves a moment to re-experience later. Pictures like this are memory pills that cause neurons to fire, bringing back moments, and sometimes surprises.
I’d like to think other places are still wide open. Like maybe some of the western states, or the prairies. But in reality, every little inch of space from coast to coast is owned. Or at least we like to think so. But I am reminded that the land is much older than our relatively new claims upon it.
Mulholland road in Parrish, oddly enough, dead-ends at a bridge. Because of that, it feels remote, even though it’s in the middle of a housing boom.
Living in suburbia as I do, the trick to doing local landscape photography is finding gems tucked away in plain sight. Even though I think I’ve found most, I’m pretty sure there are more. They are, by their very nature, not easy to find.
I took this photo about five years ago, and today, as I drove by, the road is under construction. That means it’s probably going to get more traffic and, extend past the bridge; meaning no longer hidden. But I’ll keep searching for more spots like this in the suburban jungle.
I took this from the Green Bridge in Bradenton on a particularly bodacious evening. Does anyone use that word anymore?
Bodacious is a west coast word, but I’m from there, so I get a pass. For some reason, a lot of new words come from California. When I was ten, I made up the word “bad” to mean awesome. I actually thought I invented that. Imagine my surprise when I heard it on TV. Surely I picked it up subconsciously somewhere.
My vocabulary is not particularly great, enough to get by. But I do get impressed by words all the time. I love the dictionary feature in Kindle. Depending on the author, I might just spend a lot of time in there. It’s not as easy as making up my own words, though.
Here’s a shot from Crescent Beach, which is just north of Cannon Beach and mostly inaccessible. It was a hike but well worth it.
I saw folks on the trail that looked like they shouldn’t be there, I had boots, and they had flipflops. Some people looked like they couldn’t make the steep inclines, it made me wonder if rangers rescued hikers here. Nevertheless, I made it despite hesitations of my own and arrived at this rugged, isolated beach.
I placed my tripod low and took this as the water receded. I used an ultrawide 12mm lens from Venus Optics. It mostly stays in the bag, but times like this I’m glad I have it because of the perspective it affords.
Due to the full range of light and the difficulty of shooting into the sun, this is a combination of at least five photos. I combined the images with AuroraHDR and then parts of it re-layered in Photoshop. In some respects, this is a painting, in that the light was blended to create a picture. That creative process I find satisfying, even if it is the same scene on a different day.
Imagine living in a town called Sisters; how cool would that be? The name comes from its proximity to the Three Sisters volcanic peaks in Oregon.
The good news is that Middle and North Sisters are dormant. The maybe-lousy news is the South Sister is showing signs. I took a detour to see the fifteen-hundred-year-old lava flow and, as lava flows go, it’s a big one. Here is a shot I took of the lava flow, but it doesn’t do justice. It’s about five miles wide.
Anyway, I was just glad to be here and out of the Florida summer heat for a few days. Oregon in summer is a mild climate, not too hot, not too cold. Goldilocks would approve. After visiting the lava flow, I ended up in this mountain town. If South Sister ever decides to come back to life, this place will have front-row seats.
As we head into the middle of summer, I am looking forward to some downtime under a tiki hut sipping a frosty little drink with an umbrella. Umbrellas in glasses are a crucial element for survival in harsh environments. This is an important fact you may wish to keep in mind. You’re very welcome.
There’s a reason they call it the Skyway Bridge. I like to think it has something to do with the sky. I’m just saying.
I remember taking this after an afternoon rain. I pointed the camera from a rest stop along the highway facing northwest. I’ve been using different lenses lately, but I think I’ll bring this old 24-240mm along with me more often. By the way, this is a fifteen-second exposure, so it must have been quite dark.
According to the EXIF information on the photo, I took this on July 16th at 8:00 pm. But I think it’s wrong because the sun sets around 8:30 at that time of year. I think the clock in my camera was off by an hour, and it was actually 9:00 pm. Inquiring minds need to know; I’m just saying.