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.
Post Script
There is a bit of a back story to this photo. I took this photo on the morning of August 11. Three days later, I was packing my camera gear and discovered that my beloved Canon 24-105 4.0L lens was missing. I searched the house. Twice. No lens. I opened Aperture on my computer to find the last photo I had taken with the lens. It was of this tree. I concluded that I had left the lens exactly where I had taken it off - sitting on top of a fence post. (I used my 70-200 telephoto lens so I could try to blur the background.)
I drove north of town feeling pretty confident that I would find the lens. After all, this spot is fairly remote and I didn't think the country road would have had much traffic. I also imagined that the lens would blend in, looking like part of the post.
And from an eighth of a mile away, I could see the lens. But it didn't look like part of the fencing - it looked like a lens. Fortunately, it hadn't rained and there had been little dew over the three days that it sat on the post. And, aside from a fine layer of dust on the filter (no, I hadn't put on the lens cap), the lens was pretty much as I had left it. Lucky me!
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.
Even though I've posted stargazer lilies here and some would say, "If you've seen one stargazer, you've seen them all," I feel obliged to post photos of these beautiful flowers again and again.
Anyone driving along the forest service road I used to get to this photo location would have wondered why a man was lying prone near an old, dead tree at 5:45 am this morning. But nobody else was likely to do that. In fact I could lie prone for the whole day and not be seen.
For a person who thrives on warm weather and sunshine, June is an important month. The grass is pretty green by now, the days are incredibly long and there is the promise of summer.
The last time I had pondered my favorite little stone bird, 
So have you ever pondered the backside of a pink tulip? You have now. The title, as my friends from the '70s may recognize, is borrowed from Joni Mitchell's song by the same title, though in her case, she's talking about clouds.
When the sky began to grow light this morning, I looked out my den window and noticed something that gave me my first laugh of the day - a mallard standing on top of the building across the ally from our house. I quickly ran to get my camera and took several shots of him silhouetted against the sky. I thought he would fly away any second but it turns out there was no rush - an hour later he was still there. Maybe he sleeps up there? A room with a view. . .
Here's one more version of the pink tulips I've been posting for the last couple days. This is the side view of the same two flowers pictured two days ago.