Today's a dull and rainy day, so I've been looking back through photos from last year about this time. This one is to me hugely appealing. The mystery of what's just around the bend...
I love the frosty rosehips, and the dried grasses that bound the trail: soft wintery colours.
Each morning, when I take the dog out for her first walk of the day, I venture out to the Point for a clear view of the morning’s light. If it has rained at all, I note the measurement in the rain gauge, and then empty it for the next 24 hour monitoring. And I take photos.
Every day is so different —the light, the angle of the sun, the patterns and textures of the clouds, the tide’s height in its constant ebb and flow, the way the waves are meeting the shore, the presence of various shore birds, gulls, otters and seals. Occasionally, on a very still morning, my attention is caught by the breath sounds of a humpback whale, and I see the spray of it’s powerful exhalation far out in the distance.
For over a year I’ve been documenting the mornings under the title ‘The Point this morning’. I had intended to do my photo project only for the 6 months from winter solstice to summer solstice, to note the wide varying of the sun’s position at sunrise. But these daily photo glimpses became such an important part of my day’s beginning, I carried on. Now, I can't bear to give it up so I’m thinking I will contimue for the time being and see what happens...
These autumn days are particularly beautiful, with the stunning colours in the brilliant sun.
This gallery shows just a few of this week's mornings when meandering to the shore as the sun was rising.
-click on any image for a larger view-
I took this photo last week in the warmth of the afternoon light and the stillness of Whaler Bay. What caught my eye was the complex reflections with the fallen tree, the tangled lines of its branches both above and beneath the water and the curves of the sandstone intersected by the straight lines of the wharf's shadow.
The resulting design is intriguing: another instance of the playful art of nature all around us.
The fawns are growing quickly. Their spots are gone, and they're often on their own. This one visits our place at least once a day, if not more frequently along with quite a few others. As long as they all stay off our porch (away from the flower pots! ) I enjoy their company.
This delicate flower is always a surprise to me when I come across it. I've rendered it here, blending several photos and textures together, to present the soft colours, the delicacy and vulnerability of this little flower the way it appears to me.
This sight stopped me in my tracks today: pink honeysuckle climbing and blooming all the way up an anchor cable of a power pole. Sunlit against the shadows and fir trees, with fragments of blue sky visible through the spaces— the beauty and colour invited standing at the roadside, looking, and capturing a photo (or three).
So often honeysuckle clings to the trunk of a tree, choking its life from it, but this one's found a place to thrive and bloom, doing no harm at all. And it has transformed the harsh hard lines of the anchor cable into a striking beauty.
I have loved walking in the forest since I was small. It is, for me, a place of mystery, of wonder— and a veritable feast of beauty.
Here in this image, the warm sun pierces the canopy— its light falling on the tender fresh green of a young hemlock.
What is it about this that evokes such pleasure? even a simple joy... I wonder.
The curves and lines in this image have been intriguing me since I captured it on Friday.
What keeps me looking is the contrast between the long clean lines that have been so carefully drawn in this garden, and the rough 'imperfect' lines and curves of the tree and its shadow. The intersection of these lines— their juxtaposition— provokes all sorts of thoughts for me.
I wonder what it suggests to you?
