Park Street might have been named for a different park (the one up the street), but the glow of St. Lawrence’s campus at night (the reverse view of this shot) has a delightful Central Park vibe that matches the street name well.
Visiting my colleague’s property at the height of fall foliage, I was impressed by the contemporary solarpunk aesthetic of a solar panel installation in an orchard.
Nearly the entire territory of Margaux has been adjusted (terraformed, if you will) to serve its equestrian focus. I appreciate, however, the more pleasing, smooth shapes to the roads and paddocks, in the place of the grid system that might have otherwise been manifest.
Following principles of green design, St. Lawrence University’s Johnson Hall of Science was built facing north-south, such that light throughout the day could be used to light rooms on both sides. The inner courtyard even features a light stone facade to help bounce more light into the inner offices. (I can attest that this works.) When the rest of the campus was constructed along the local street grid, rather than the compass points, the result is that JHS looks like a bit of a rebel among its neighbors.
Fall brings both fantastic foliage and dramatic sunsets to the North Country; my favorite evenings are those in which the hues of the the sky and the leaves match the red brick of St. Lawrence University’s Richardson Hall.
One of St. Lawrence’s monikers is “A Candle in the Wilderness,” and this drone shot of the bright campus with the dark forests beyond explains the name.
Everything the sun touches is Margaux Farm. This red-roofed barn in the foreground is but one example; look off into the distance and count how many additional structures appear with a matching color scheme.
Over the course of the past few years, Canton’s park fountain has been graciously renovated and restored. The aerial view of the fountain at the lower edge of today’s image is nicely highlighted by the light streaks of passing vehicles.
Route 11, the main road connecting the whole North Country (we don’t have any Interstates), runs through a series of quaint downtowns, where it temporarily becomes Main St. The impressive stability of the DJI Mini 3 Pro meant that I could capture long, smooth light trails from headlights and taillights representing the evening’s traffic.
The opposite side of Equus Run (in both space and time) from Friday’s post finds a concert letting out and light trails along the normally empty Moores Mill Road.
Sunrise over northern Kentucky, when captured from a drone, seems to present layers on layers (creek/patio/driveways/vines/forest/interstate/forest/sky) that look like an ukiyo-e print.
Good news, everyone! A new, much-lighter, yet equally capable drone (the DJI Mini 3 Pro) means aerial photography while traveling in a way that was never possible with my chunky Phantom 3.
In today’s image, northern Kentucky presents a classic American combination: old barns and farms, crossed by the monolithic expanse of the Interstate system.
Bright Saturday morning sunshine warms Salisbury, Connecticut and make the town ski jump flash in the distance at the left of the image.
Neal Stephenson’s “Fall” suggests that that pattern of one’s childhood hometown is patterned deeply into the brain. This picture captures pretty much everywhere I could get to on my own (i.e., on my bike) when I was seven years old—so, basically my whole world at that point.
This particular acute crossroads in Salisbury, Connecticut is home to the White Hart Inn, and it turns out that it’s photogenic in just about every season.