April Fool’s Day played a prank on the reemerging plants of the North Country, dropping ice and snow onto green grass and growing buds.
Just before the solstice, I most appreciate processing my pictures from spring. The needles and fallen leaves of winter are still on the ground in this image from Lampson Falls, but new life is pushing through.
(Can you spot me on the left side of the picture, at the top of the falls?)
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.
I like the way this picture captures the inviting calm of sleepy boats and an open boathouse in the evening. Perhaps it reminds me of a castle with a moat, but I find an odd sense of safety in buildings built over water.
Our campus’s oldest building (Richardson Hall, just below) and its newest building (Kirk Douglas Hall, farther down) match with a certain degree of symmetry, but while the older building’s symmetry is pretty flawless, the newer building adds wings and windows that disrupt the pattern.
The temperature is rising and ice is melting and after the gritty, dirty snow finally vanishes, spring will come to the Adirondacks.
When foot upon foot of snow stacks up outside, looking back to pictures from springtime on St. Lawrence’s campus helps to remind me that this condition is not permanent.
When spring shades into summer and the students go home for break, the campus is oddly empty for the best weather it ever sees. The empty dorms feel a bit like the result of a very tidy zombie apocalypse.
We may be deep within the glowing core of autumn in the Northeast at this moment, but I can’t escape the feeling that spring and its attendant graduation drama is fast approaching. If winter proves deep and dark, that may prove itself to be an illusion.
Spring marks the return of leaves to the trees around the North Country; in the tiny window between snow-covered and leaf-obscured, I get to imagine the story behind this long-abandoned and island-isolated shack. Was it a weekend fishing spot? Was the construction of the nearby bridge what caused it to be abandoned?
Far north, spring comes late but brings Bob-Ross-ian scenes with it. This particular landscape in Tupper Lake has been a frequent favorite of mine; I’ve watched it change over the years as the currents shift the islands around.
Winter’s lockdown continues (it might warm up above -10ºF today!), but spring will eventually return. The footbridge to SUNY Canton will eventually be free of ice and the smallest hints of leaves will peak out from the tree branches.