rain

Photographing during a light rain, or just after a light rain is one of my favorite conditions to capture in the garden.  The foliage of many perennials like this native bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) will be joyously singing towards the sky from the renewal rain; and their colors seem more saturated in the overcast light.

I’m finding my photography more and more following a water theme this spring, but not always obviously so.  I’ve just purchased a Think Tank Hydrophobia® 70-200 rain cover that is a dream to use.  It offers my gear and especially zoom lens great protection when I have more than a few hours of photography planned in adverse conditions.   I still carry an OP/Tech RAINSLEEVE™ in my kit for emergencies and that unexpected shower not found in the weather forecast  since it’s extremely light and portable.  I’ve even used it to keep my gear protected from blowing sand at the beach.  Both rain covers offer easy use with or without a tripod.  I decide which one to use based upon shooting conditions, weather severity and how quickly I need a cover.  I’m really looking forward to seeing how the Think Tank Hydrophobia works during a snowstorm next winter!

simple moments

Today was about simple moments:  a toddler playing in a leaking hose, the smile of a good friend, the dance of sunshine on brightly colored spring flowers.  These kinds of experiences greatly influence my photographic vision and process.  And after reading John Paul Caponigro’s blog post, “Take Note of Your Process”, I’ve been running through my process every moment I see another potential image.  Even thought I have not taken out the camera in 4 days, swamped with computer software issues, I’m still going through his exercise and will put pen to paper during my next venture.  I highly recommend a read and practice of his exercise for photographers and visual artists of any media.  It will help you clarify your own process and vision.

Autumn

Rich Seiling wrote a great blog on Photographing the Sierra in Autumn yesterday.  I echo his sentiment that often the fleeting nature of Autumn is what captivates me this time of year as a photographer.  One day, just a few hours or even just a few seconds can make an entirely different moment any time of year, but Autumn seems to be exceedingly fleeting and what might be a beautiful scene of fall color one day might be a bare landscape the next.  Or the subtle color of this Nandina domestica ‘Harbor Dwarf’ (commonly known as heavenly bamboo but is not even related to bamboo) might be blazing red in just two days time.

There is so much to take in visually and I also find my sense of hearing and smell heightened at this time of year.  Just this weekend the sound and scent of Eastern white pine needles toasting in the afternoon sun took me back to sleeping on a bed of these needles in a pine forest when I was about 10 years old.  Cercidiphyllum japonicum (or Katsura tree) foliage released its cotton candy perfume and immediately I had a visual image of the very first time I met this species at the Seattle Art Museum in Volunteer Park.   The warm mid-day breeze mixed with a cool draft off a local river on Long Island had a different scent yesterday than a few weeks ago.  Autumn is an amazing transition; moments in time to become closer with knowing ourselves.

Discovery in nature

I was reminded today of how our culture’s children are growing up without direct contact with and understanding of nature when I saw a college student working on a senior project constructing an earthen wall.  Needless to say, she lacked basic shoveling skills that I thought any five year old would normally have.  It’s disturbing to me on many levels that this lack of understanding seems to be all to common.   Richard Louv describes the concept of the  “Eighth Intelligence” in his book, Last Child in the Woods, as naturalistic intelligence; the human ability to recognize plants, animals and other parts of the natural environment.  He suggest that we develop a lot of our understanding and sensitivity from the experience of childhood free play.  That’s where I remember my very first sense of wonder about the natural world, playing in my backyard and the meadow across the street at my childhood home in Ohio.  I spent endless hours playing by myself among plants and critters.  A month long hospital stay during my 20s reminded me of how I need an active connection to the natural world.  I cannot imagine living a whole life without ever making this connection.

Rain

Today it rained.  When I lived on the west coast, rain seemed like an every day occurrence that most people would rather not have to live with.  It was usually a cold rain and layers of fleece and rain gear was all that could keep you dry.  I always appreciated what rain brought, growth and life to the wonderful beauty of the pacific northwest.  But now that I live on the east coast, rain means something very different to me.  I miss rain most of the time and find simple pleasure and comfort in hearing the beginnings of a gentle rain; I feel connected to the bigger picture at that moment and all my senses are awakened.  But most of all, I love what rain reveals to those who listen.

Morning surprise

Just the other morning, I was ready to pack up my camera gear and head back home after spending some time photographing some trees when I found the morning light hitting a clump of Nasella tenuissima (Mexican feather grass) just right to reveal the morning dew.