HDR Photography
St. Lawrence University’s Avenue of the Elms is notable for being:
(1) Very lovely.
(2) Very long.
(3) Very colorful (at least when autumn arrives.)
The sense of space and hue and Alice-in-Wonderland surreality pervade the space. On the Avenue of the Elms, the “regular rules” don’t apply and crisp fall Saturdays are forever.
Perhaps acorns scattered on the beach don’t really count as castles (as in I, II, III, and IV of the series), but the neural pathways (cliché incoming: imagination) of a six-year-old, they can be elegant abodes of elves or the landing pods of a tiny invasion force. I think they fit the theme nicely. During my trip to Connecticut last week (again, tragically bereft of my Nikon), I visited Lake Wononscopomuc, where I spent the summers (and winters) of my youth. It brought my back to the thinking of that “miniature me,” if only for a few minutes.
The benefit of teaching early morning classes: I’m finally (routinely) up for the sunrise. Even when the morning is cold and my fingers don’t want to be operating a camera, the fall and the clouds and the trees conspire to make Johnson Hall of Science (a frequent subject) look like paradise.
St. Lawrence University celebrated Parents’ Weekend on Saturday with a gorgeous fireworks display on the south side of campus. Conveniently, this is the sky above Johnson Hall of Science. The combination of architectural textures, floral fireworks patterns, and fall foliage make for an image that would be more at home in a video game than reality.
The days just after Thanksgiving hold still, quiet moments; the early morning fog was thick, viscous, and sinister as the fairy tale stuff. The poisonous-looking red berries, the gnarled tree limbs, and the mysterious lamposts all seem plucked from the forests of Fillory. The somewhat shallow depth of field makes it particularly surreal.
Near Berkeley’s chemistry department are the faculty clubs. (Don’t get me started on why there is both a “Faculty Club” and a “Women’s Faculty Club.”) In any case, this lovely redwood log cabin is part of the complex. The tones of the redwood and the green roof tiles gives the picture a hint of holiday feel.
Though shots of tree branches are a bit cliche, I was really taken by the massive ginko tree on Berkeley’s campus. On a rainy day, when the leaves are turning to a bright yellow and the bark has that perfect texture, the tree looks like a panel from a Calvin and Hobbes Sunday strip.
In between the bouts of rain, we slipped up to wine country this weekend. Autumn is in full swing, and the fields of grape vines have turned to the perfect combination of reds and golds. It’s easy to get lost in those vines, for just a moment, until I popped my head up and took this picture. Across the sea of color, you can catch the hints of other vineyards and hills dotting the countryside.
Today is a double feature to make up for a lack of post on Tuesday.
This shot isn’t so much about capturing a subject as it is about capturing a time of the year. This was the moment I realized that the season was changing in Berkeley. The leaves were changing color and falling (well, as much as they will in sunny California) and the sun was shining on this fine fall morning in Berkeley.
First of a make-up double post, this old fountain caught my eye while I was walking through campus playing with my latest lens purchase. The colors and the setting were perfect.
Berkeley really does have some truly gorgeous vignettes, both on- and off-campus. This shot of a tree on Hearst Ave. last fall is so conveniently lit to accentuate the broad reach of its branches and their solidity relative to the leaves in the stiff breeze.
Decaseconds 