HDR Photography
Coachella Valley is a desert that was once home to a lake, so careful management of water—both where it should go, and where it shouldn’t—leads to some fascinating human-engineered structures. I like this image for the sense of depth, but also for the way that the unmodified hills rise above the human-produced forms in the fore- and mid-ground.
The National Gallery of Ireland has plenty of galleries with the white walls that I expected of an art museum; stepping from monochromatic spaces into this deep red room was a figuratively visceral experience.
Canton is the seat of St. Lawrence County. The multistory stone buildings amongst the sea of single-family homes that out here because they (and the church steeples) are the only structures tall enough to catch the remaining red light of sunset.
Sustainable farming has found a home in New York’s North Country.
My favorite images are those that contrast (apparently) natural and human-populated places. Escaping all of the noise of the holidays to a hike in the desert has a certain appeal at this time of year.
Today’s image comes from along the same trajectory as my Cantonhenge shot, but farther down the path of Route 11. In the foreground, parks, businesses, and homes cluster around the center of Canton, New York.
When winter arrives, the last of the garden needs to be harvested and wood needs to be stacked.
Deep reds and purples stretch across campus at sunset. My favorite time to capture with my drone is the moment between when campus’s lights come on and the sun finishes setting—that time in which the two sources of illumination are dueling.
Nothing makes the incredible scale of a western landscape apparent like some tiny people navigating the scene.
The topology of a town, the shapes of its roads and the storefronts that citizens navigate each day, shifts from quotidian reality when bathed in sunset light and seen from several hundred feet up.
A North Country homestead demonstrates clearly the shifts in seasons.
Waking to 24ºF (-4ºC) temperatures this morning has me in mind of winter—but not the winter one might imagine. Spending last Christmas in California’s Coachella Valley meant that my holidays were far more rocky hillsides than snow-capped pines.
Autumn went by quickly this year; the thermodynamic realities outside my door make clear that the adaptations of the North Country trees aren’t coming any too soon.
The bucolic setting of Equus Run is so charming and quaint (and well-shielded by trees and hillside) that I can easily forget the Interstate runnin’ through the yard.
