The saying is that "the darkest hour is just before dawn" and I was aware of that when I went quickly to my camera bag so I could get the moment pictured in this post. I'm not sure how one defines "dawn" but I concluded that the saying was a bit inaccurate even if it is more metaphorical than literal.
I'll have to admit that I've shot the sunrise from this same spot before. And as Monet no doubt felt good about painting the same haystacks over and over again, I can live with my redundancy: even though it's the same spot and the same old sun, this sunrise is unique in all of the 4.6 billion years of the Earth's existence. And I was there to capture it.
On a technical note, those who are inclined to study my photos closely might be inclined to say that part of my style is, as one student said recently, "crispness." Generally, because I shoot with a high resolution camera, use good lenses, generally use a a tripod and use fairly elaborate sharpening processes, they are clean and crisp. But this one is a little blurry. Was it premeditated? Not really. I was standing in a boat that was moving ever so slightly and I was hand-holding my camera with an impossible-to-hand-hold shutter speed of 1/3 of a second. I know that's a sin. But the blur actually adds to the impressionistic nature of this photo. I suspect that Monet might approve.
Canon 5DIII 0.3s f/4.0 ISO800 32mm
When Deb and I were driving back to Watertown on the day we did Lacey and Matt's engagement session, I remember driving by this tree and saying, "That's an amazing tree." And so, before I ended my session north of town a few days ago (that resulted in the two previous posts) I stopped by this tree and took several photos. I ended up liking this one, largely because of the way the stark monotone of the skeletal tree contrasts with the strong colors of the earth and sky.
Those who follow this blog know that Lonesome Lake is one of my favorite places. Even if I didn't have a camera and tripod, I would enjoy this place, especially on a morning like the one this photo taken on. It was cool and windless, which on an August day is South Dakota, is somewhat rare. And there was a kind of silence here that it hard to describe. But I will say that I could hear and feel the silence. And when I look at this photo, I still do. I wish you had been there with me.
The title of this post may suggest that it is another flower photo. But, instead, it is another sunrise photo. This photo is the result of serendipity, I suppose, in that I just happened to be in the right place at the right moment. But serendipity doesn't suggest that it was an accident. When I left home just before sunset on this morning, I drove north hoping to find something worthy to photograph. And this is the first photo I took. I'll post others in the next few days.
I'll have to admit that I was trying to channel Ansel Adams when I made* this photo. Of course, Ansel used a view camera, filters and elaborate dark room magic to make his great black and white landscape photos. In the digital realm, all of those things are done using software.
My wife has nice flowers but does our neighbor and the other day I couldn't help but be drawn to her collection of yellow tulips, which had just bloomed. The light was poor but I enhanced the scene with on-camera flash. I rarely use flash but I have taught my students that it's ok to use flash as long as it doesn't overpower the scene. In the case of this photo, I think it works.
It is a fact known to my family, friends and associates. But I haven't in any formal or public way made the announcement: after 36 1/2 years of being a classroom teacher, I am retiring. I am down to my last three days with "my" students in "my" classroom.
Of course, this view of the distant Los Angeles skyline, taken from the Hollywood Bowl overlook just off of Mulholland Drive, isn't alien to the denizens of LA. But to a flatlander in a relatively rural state (with little or no air pollution) this landscape is certainly foreign.
If you were lured to this post because you thought you were going to see a beautiful church, I apologize. But there is something dome-like in these trees that arch over the snow-covered ground and that's what inspired today's title
