Dawn in Napa brings the kinds of landscapes, with layer upon layer of hills and fields and trees, that I associate with prints of impressionist oil paintings scattered around the average home in the late twentieth century.
In a too-on-the-nose metaphor, here the Oswegatchie River joints the St. Lawrence River, with Canada looking on; this week, a new class (2024!) of Laurentians arrived to St. Lawrence University’s campus.
A wet, mild California winter (rather the opposite of what the Bay Area is unfortunately currently experiencing) may make for a lovely view in wine country, but I’m not sure I’d want to stop at that particular seat… It looks like it has captured more than its share of the dampness of its environs.
Rolling Adirondack foothills make for a whole array of waterfalls around the North Country. Lampson Falls looks particularly good from this “impossible” (sans drone) profile perspective, with sunset light reflecting off the pool in the foreground.
The little islands in Canton’s stretch of the Grasse River make me think of Huckleberry Finn’s stops along the Mississippi but, you know, scaled down.
Quadcopter drones give photographers access to all kinds of new angles for shots, but also introduce challenges that did not have to previously be considered. I should have thought in more detail about the orientation of the impressive Lampson Falls—and considered that I wouldn’t be able to get the steep face of the falls and the setting sun in the same shot. I guess I’ll have to get up at dawn for the “proper” version of this picture.
Late spring brings some of the best sunset clouds to Saranac Lake, but the evening temperatures would never let you confuse it for summer.
With the evening sky reflected in the water, this island in Saranac Lake appears to float like a fuzzy green saucer.
I mentioned in Monday’s post that I find structures built over water to be oddly cozy, and this dock and boathouse on a rainy late spring evening conveys the same kind of feeling.
The Californian subject matter mixed with the tiny details in this image, particularly in the cars and buildings around the rim of the reservoir, give it a Group f/64 style. In contrast to those images from the early twentieth century, the expanse of urbanized California in the distance shows a few changes in the state.
The conflicting land uses of California hillsides are effectively captured in this image: hikers enjoying trails on preserved land in the foreground, while the distance is divided between vineyard on the left and a quarry on the right.
Morning outside a classic Airstream camper in California has a lovely glow that reflects off the metal body. As today is Christmas morning, I’ll think of this view as my present.
My favorite view of the Bay Area (and the view that first let me define the idea of the civilization gradient as an element of my photography) is layered up with loads of detail. Down in Berkeley Lab is the building where I worked on sabbatical, and across the Bay Bridge is the completed Salesforce Tower hiding in the marine layer. The differences, particularly from the last time I showed a very similar shot from the spring, are in nature: the high-altitude clouds have been replaced with empty skies and that rolling marine layer, while the green hills have shifted to a dry, highly flammable tan.
As busy as the cities of the Bay Area become, there are the spaces in the fire trails (like the one in the foreground) to get some quiet and distance. There’s an odd orthogonality of the senses in being able to see all of the commotion below with none of the accompanying sound.
St. Lawrence University’s campus has an “everything the sun touches is your kingdom” vibe—the school extends over almost an entire quadrant of town. Just under the setting sun is the most-frequented version of campus, but it continues to extend over the woods to this oxbow.