The Kentucky Horse Park (particularly at Pony Finals) is a Mecca for pony-obsessed folks around the continent. Even this tiny corner of the facility, all paddocks and fences and barns, begins to show how that came to be the case.
Tag: farm
Old Barn, New Summer
When barns are no longer needed, they so rarely seem to be torn down. Rather, they sink slowly back into the earth, like tree stumps. New life is bursting forth around an old barn, and it does start to seem like just another feature of the natural landscape.
It’s been strange to see the degree to which the seasons and cycles of the Northeast have started to influence my photography. I don’t know that I thought as much about the passage of time and the seasons when I was in California with its nearly-unchanging conditions (pick between rainy or dry, but that’s about it.) Doing landscape photography in a place with drastic seasonal swings makes me more aware of them than ever before.
Summer Sunset Farm
On the quiet and winter-crushed roads outside of town, the density of nuclear mosquitoes skyrockets when summer finally arrives. Standing on the edge of a glacier-scared field, under the dome of clouds, and watching the thermonuclear fireball of our star vanish over the horizon, it’s easy to feel small. But if science allows me to understand these phenomena and my place in the world, the nature of what an image of that world means changes.
House on North Country Hill
In the rest of the world, it’s almost April, but in the North Country it still looks (and feels) like winter. The land and the people and the houses and the barns are battered by the weather, and when spring arrives we’ll repair and recover and regenerate.
Breakfast Run
As a spectroscopist and inorganic chemist, I’m constantly encountering symmetry and its effects. From the balanced shapes of molecules to the bilateral formation of our own bodies, nature is full of symmetry that informs its function and behavior. In addition to symmetry in physical space, the kind with which we are most familiar, there is also symmetry in the dimension of time. Some examples are rather uninteresting from an “elegant universe” perspective: the cycles of alternating current exhibit high symmetry, but hide under the surface of our everyday electronics.
The cycles of seasons, on the other hand, have been on my mind lately as the North Country oscillates rapidly between spring and winter. (One day on, one day off.) In those cycles, I’ve found a strange symmetry. Though most of the year lacks reflection symmetry (autumn is obviously different from spring), there’s a point where late fall lines up perfectly with early spring—the world is cold and still and brown, and I can pretend for a moment that the winter never happened.
Forever Farm
A Saturday special: it’s still winter in the North Country (basically). Though I took this shot a couple of weeks ago (during the true depths of North Country Winter), it still surprisingly evocative of the current climate. Those first hints of light (and spring to come) are just starting to force their way through!
By the Banks
Winter crisps and desaturates the landscape, and draws the eye from the Northeast to places more southern, where I wonder if, “the grass is greener on the other side.” That might sometimes be an illusion, but then there are cases like this one: the grass is literally greener on the other side.
Silo and Tree
The rolling, bucolic hills of the Connecticut-New York border are one of my favorite places. The foothills of the Berkshires roll along under the late-autumn reds and browns, the clouds pucker towards rain overhead, and the decrepit skeletons of agriculture linger among the charming homes that now dominate the landscape.
Oregon Surfaces
The topology of central Oregon at sunset is really very special: the land somehow has that “falling away beneath you” feeling of standing on a hilltop, that “in the hollow” feeling of standing in a valley, and that “goes on forever” feeling of standing on a plain all at the same time. Combine this with the variety of surfaces and textures to experience (gravel, grass, tarmac, wood, lake, sky, woods), and the experience becomes some hyperdimensional superposition of places and moments in time. With just the right car for the particular evening, you have a recipe for perfection.
Outbuilding in Red
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.
Moon Above
Back to lovely, bucolic central Oregon. Something about an active field, with the pines and the farmhouse in the distance, mixes with the moon above to convey a sense of “a hard day’s work.” If it were a painting, I’d call it “Western Art.”
Duchess Sunset
Sunset over New York’s Duchess County (as seen from the northwestern edge of Connecticut) glazed the land with an epic but bucolic light. The fields stretched out under a dusting of snow and Christmas lights glinted in the distant houses. The icing on the cake was the smell of woodsmoke on the evening air.
This is what New England is all about.
Across Autumn
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.
After the Grass Harvest
This bucolic hillside in Corvallis, OR is a special sight. In the rolling heartland of the state, the grass seed harvest happens for only a couple of weeks out of the whole year. I’ve previously posted other shots from the broad hills and valleys of this area, but I particularly like the interplay between the orange of the sky and the pink of the clouds as sunset creeps in.
The Homestead
My grandfather’s farm in Sherborn, MA is perhaps the only unchanging place in my life. Since before I can remember, I’ve sat on this screen porch and looked out through the trees and fields. The flora and fauna of the homestead keep growing and multiplying, but it’s all kept in check.
Decaseconds 