HDR Photography
I captured this shot on the way up to Laurel Falls on a stretch of the AT near the Tri-Cities region of East Tennessee. Along the way there were a bunch of camp sites near the creek, and all I could think was how great it would be to wake up to this scene. I will definitely be going back.
The Kingsport greenbelt runs along a picturesque stretch of Reedy Creek.
I was amazed at how long I could follow this Blue Heron (I believe?) as it waded through a creek in a park near Kingsport, TN.
A year ago, I stood atop this waterfall in the corner of Connecticut, relaxing and hiking in the last few days before I traveled north to Canton to begin the faculty life. There are three things that this image captures:
Yet another image from Muir Woods: when you’re faced with such beauty, how do you say something that hasn’t been said before? Maybe some pictures don’t need text accompaniment.
Muir woods, especially on a day with a bit of a drizzle, reminds me an awful lot of the good old pacific northwest.
The “real-world Zen garden” effect of northwestern Connecticut at the end of November was just the calming experience I needed: after a busy semester, stopping for a moment by the edge of slow stream, standing among the red, crinkly fallen leaves and short grasses, and feeling the wind lift puffs of snow from the rocks to my face.
Thanksgiving is around the corner, and New England has equilibrated to early-winter leafless distributions. On a morning coffee-and-breakfast-sandwich run, snow encrusted rocks form the boundaries of a real-world Zen garden.
Waterfalls don’t necessarily have the same impressive drama from the top, but they present another kind of wonder: the calm, burbling stream that disappears to infinity, replaced by the view of a sylvan landscape beyond. The pebbles and the trees contrast in lengthscale dramatically, but they all “belong” here.
I cooked up a bonus Sunday post: from the same waterfall on Mt. Riga where I took last week’s picture,another shot of the lovely swimming hole (and perhaps a broader perspective on what makes it such an incredibly lovely place to relax on a muggy summer afternoon.)
Here is your intrepid photographer (a.k.a. me), standing at the foot of a lovely waterfall on Mt. Riga. Near the summer solstice, on the perfect warm and breezy day, we paused here just long enough to take a few shots before we dove into the natural pool beneath the falls.
In the dead of winter, the rocks and trees and streams of northwestern Connecticut are a textured but monotone canvas. In this photograph, I’ve only exaggerated the stark difference between the dormant surroundings and the bright red of the small barn-like structure perched at the creekside.
Muir Woods astonishes and tempers with its beauty, but I had trouble avoiding the feeling that it was all a bit manicured and controlled by man. At first, that disappointed me. When I thought back to some of the gorgeous Zen gardens I’ve visited, however, I realized that curated natural beauty can be just as spectacular and authentic as true wilderness. The gentle drizzle between sequoias and down into the creek is the American version of the Zen garden.
My brother stands on the bridge over the creek behind our childhood home. Inside all of those prepositions is the feeling that it used to be so much larger, grander, and more exciting when we were kids. Though we used to make whole forts under the bridge, we now barely fit.
This brook runs behind my childhood home; today, I present it to you as I remember it. Smooth currents of dark, freezing water (even in the summer), and the entrancing mishmash of old stones and roots encrusted with snow. No video game tops the pleasure of watching a leaf drift downstream.
Decaseconds 