HDR Photography
Big green fields at the edge of a forest are perhaps not what I normally associate with a college campus, but St. Lawrence University’s barn (technically the Elsa Gunnison Appleton Riding Hall) is indeed on its campus. Though the main halls and dormitories are off in the distance at the right of the image, effectively this entire picture is St. Lawrence’s campus. The perks of being a rural college.
The deep gouge in the landscape that is Stone Valley winds off into the post-sunset, on its way to meet the distant tiny tower.
Rook-esque clouds pillaring the sky on a crisp fall afternoon are one of the treats of living in the northeast, and a drone panorama does a solid job of capturing the effect.
Stone Valley’s sharp river slicing through the fuzzy trees is a good reminder that there are forces far more powerful than photosynthesis sculpting the world we see each day.
St. Lawrence University’s enormous campus includes both the barn and horse fields in the middle-distance and the Kip Trail that leads to it. A stroll through the woods and grassy fields sounds pretty nice in the depths of February.
Flying a drone makes me think a lot about my xyz position in space. Dark stone and glossy water and fuzzy trees seem to occupy orthogonal dimensions: the trees point along the z-axis, the striations in the stone along the y-axis, and the ripples and rapids in the water along the x-axis.
Stone Valley is a hyperreal place at sunset; the effect is a bit different from above but no less magical. The rapids do, I’ll grant, look a bit less steep from up here.
Last summer, Herring-Cole Hall in the foreground received a new roof. They say the building is haunted; I wonder if the ghost appreciated the upgrade?
The red-roofed Outing Club building has all kinds of odd decorations that have made it a frequent subject for me in the past; this sunset view puts my previous work in a rather different context. St. Lawrence University’s campus is just across the street, and the town of Canton is down the road in the distance.
Universities think on long timescales (decades and centuries) and as a result, the oldest building on St. Lawrence’s campus (Richardson, on the right) overlooks the newest addition (the quad in front of Kirk Douglas Hall).
Though school may be out “forever” when summer arrives, there’s a stillness that overtakes the campus of which I am not particularly fond. At the start of this spring semester, campus is bustling. Is it ironic that campus is “alive” when frozen solid, but “dead” when it looks like this.
Sunsets might be a cliché subject for a landscape photograph, but the North Country’s specimens offer such glowing, striated features with such regularity that the truly exceptional examples can strain my belief in atmospheric models of cloud formation and light scattering.
Next week marks the beginning of the Spring 2019 semester. I’m shocked that it has arrived so quickly, and sure that I’ll be equally shocked when the end arrives in May; that was definitely the case last year.
The tiny people at the left side of the image provide a sense of the scale for the wide face of Clare, New York’s Lampson Falls. In spite of the frothy surface, the river is placid and friendly before and after the discontinuity.
Even as deciduous trees enter their period of dormancy, a bright blue river winding its way through a wetland area can’t help but look rich and fertile. Just down stream, Lampson Falls change things up a bit.
Decaseconds 