I went looking for something that made me smile and this photo of father Brian holding daughter Glenyce upside down is the first thing I found. I used to hang him upside down when he was two feet tall and so Brian is obligated to continue the tradition. No children were harmed in the making of this photo. :-)
Canon 5DIII 1/50s f/5.6 ISO1600 32mm
In all of my travels, perhaps the most bizarre place I have ever visited is the Capuchin Crypt in Rome. I have no photos of my own of this place because photography is prohibited, but here's a photo that gives you a sense of the place. It has room after room decorated with the bones of deceased monks. Hanging in the crypt near the many skeletons is a plaque that reads: "What you are now, we once were. What we are now, you will be." That's a happy thought, isn't it?
When I see vast fields of withered sunflowers, I can't help but think of this plaque, because, to me, dried sunflowers look like withered skeletons hanging their heads. Like all flowers, they show their beauty and all too soon, they pass on. Just like us, I suppose. . .
Astute readers of this blog may be inclined to think that, combined with yesterday's post, I am on an existential kick. "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace" blah, blah, blah.
But don't worry. I am happy, well adjusted and I rarely recite somber soliloquies like Macbeth's. I'll try to find something bright and happy for tomorrow's post.
Canon 5DIII 1/640s f/4.0 ISO100 102mm
This blog rarely editorializes. But today's post could have existential meaning. Rather than merely documenting damage from a recent heavy snow fall in the Black Hills, am I saying something about life in general by posting a fallen, twisted twisty road sign? As with all art (if that's what this photo is) you'll have to impose you own experiences and sensibilities in an attempt to answer this question.
Canon 5DIII 1/100s f/5.0 ISO400 80mm
Anyone who knows this blog knows that I often repeat myself. I have not yet tried to re-invent myself as a photographer and, at my age and inclination, I'm not sure that it is possible. Or worthy.
So here I am again at Iron Creek. But today, when I made the trek from our family's cabin to this spot a few miles away, I found a flow of water unlike anything I have seen in the many years I have been photographing the stream. I am at our cabin right now to clean up several fallen trees on our property. There was a major winter storm three weeks ago that dumped 4' of wet snow on the Black Hills and that caused significant tree damage.
The Hills are a mess - it looks like a bomb went off. But the up side is that the snow melt has caused significant run-off. And thus, my trek to Iron Creek.
Astute observers will not doubt see that this photo is not quite, "real." And they would be right. This is actually 4 separate exposures combined in HDR Efex Pro 2.
I hope you like it.
Canon 5DIII 0.8s f/20.0 ISO100 40mm
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So it's been several days since I've posted a photo of our grand daughter, Glenyce Jane. So here you go. . . .
Canon 5DIII 1/80s f/4.0 ISO320 100mm
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My friend, Scott, may dispute my choice of the word "hope" in the title of this post. I have no idea if he was hopeful when he took his rod and reel out into the gentle surf at sunset on a perfect October evening along the Florida Gulf Coast.
I know he would rather catch fish than not when he casts. But I wonder if his fishing isn't sometimes like my photo hunting: it is often less about getting a photo that is a "keeper" than it is about the hunt for the photo.
Scott didn't catch anything of significance on this particular outing but he didn't seem too depressed when he came back to our room. He will live to fish another day. . . .
Canon 5DIII 1/250s f/2.8 ISO500 70mm
By Scott Shephard
It's hard not to get caught up in the amazing symmetry of humble sea shells like these. And when you move in close, as I did here, you are seeing details that many fail to notice.
This photo, incidentally, was taken at a state park near Gulf Shores, Alabama. The sand is some of the purest powdery sand I've ever seen. When you walk on it, it squeaks. And in October the beach is nearly empty.
Canon 5DIII 1/3200s f/2.8 ISO100 100mm
To be honest, I don't know Jack all that well. But I couldn't resist stopping by the Jack Daniels distillery in Lynchburg, TN, on my recent trip to Alabama. Photography was allowed during the outdoors portion of the tour I took but wasn't on the inside of the buildings. The reason, we were told, is that a spark from the camera could ignite the high proof product being made. I don't believe it but I wasn't willing to test the truth of the statement.
Canon 5DIII 1/60s f/5.0 ISO400 45mm
Is it creepy that I lurked briefly behind a tree in Centennial Park in Nashville, TN, to get a candid photo of a photographer at work? Maybe.
Canon 5DIII 1/200s f/4.0 ISO100 90mm
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This cemetery, which is south of the Missouri town of Boonville, is yet another place that I have driven by and then turned around so I can get a closer look. And then, when I got out of my vehicle, I didn't take my camera. Frankly, I just wanted to walk among the tomb stones, some of which dated back to the late 1700s.
There is something evocative about cemeteries, especially at the end of the day, when the sun is low and the shadows grow long. It isn't creepy to me. But it is a bit sad and more than a little thought-provoking.
This cemetery was well maintained, had a great view of the Missouri River valley and the recently deceased shared space with those who had been lying there for a a century or more. Many of the older tomb stones were seriously weathered and it was next to impossible to read the inscription.
Such is life. A stone may mark our final "resting" place but who we are may have been long ago forgotten. . . .
Canon 5DIII 1/125s f/4.0 ISO100 45mm
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