The newly renovated pond in Bushnell Park had crisp, clear water this fall and I assumed that I’d lose sight of the rocks at the bottom from the build-up of fallen leaves. Instead, it turns out that a frozen surface was the bottom-obscuring victor.
HDR Photography
The newly renovated pond in Bushnell Park had crisp, clear water this fall and I assumed that I’d lose sight of the rocks at the bottom from the build-up of fallen leaves. Instead, it turns out that a frozen surface was the bottom-obscuring victor.
After a summer spent under construction to fully overhaul the pond, work is finally complete and our city park looks more beautiful than ever. In the distance, the State Capitol is lit by the last of the warm early-autumn sunshine.
The benefit of living in a beautiful place is finding those days when (i) a beautiful location and (ii) charming lighting and (iii) special circumstances align. On a perfect late-summer afternoon, the pond in Bushnell Park is just finished its cleaning and repairs and has had its bottom protected with a layer of large stones. This is sort of a once-in-a-few-decade chance to capture the odd site of the dry pond.
The Netherlands’ relationship with water and land is such a long and complicated one. This site, Ommermars Natuurspeeltuin (which I believe translates to “nature playground”—Dutch speakers, get in the comments!), feels like it might be prepared to cast some sort of deep, ancient magic to influence that relationship.
Several posts ago, I showed you the view from Mohonk Mountain House’s Skytop, including its fire suppression water supply. Seen from the other side, that reservoir makes for a perfect mid-morning reflection.
After a teaser from the climb up on Friday, here is the full view from the top of Mohonk’s Skytop. This high-resolution panorama is definitely worth clicking through to Flickr for the full-sized version. There’s a lot here: the hotel and its namesake lake, but also the trails and conserved forest space around it. The water retention pond in the foreground is the semi-secret reason for Mohonk’s continued existence: though there were a variety of all-wood structures like Mohonk in the past, most have burned down over the years. This is the water source for the Mountain House’s fire suppression system, which was installed early and has preserved the structure through tribulations.
The grassy, rolling, limestone-based Kentucky countryside looks too perfect. Precise fencing geometries and gently rippling ponds are just too much. I’m reminded of the famous Microsoft Windows XP default wallpaper, “Bliss.” The key to making both images work, I think, is an overall very clean image with just enough small details and imperfections at the edges to show you that it must be real.
When the weather outside is frightful, go to Florida! With sunrises like this to greet me, I might never leave.
There is something enormously satisfying about the moments when a great shot comes directly to me—no setup, no searching, no prep. I looked outside, the scene was beautiful, and all I had to do was compose and shoot. The “easy” feelings keep coming in Florida: I don’t have to shovel any snow, either.
A photograph should “work,” should have meaning, in isolation. I suppose that really means that it should work without any context other than shared culture. Without my words, you can know that this is a Japanese Garden (though perhaps not in Oregon), know that it’s an artificial simulacrum of some elegant natural setting—but can the sense of calm in being in that place be conveyed by the image? (I suspect that this aspect might be the easiest to convey.)