nature photography – Page 13

Saturday Snapshot: Gliding Into The Sunset

On Thanksgiving Monday (Canada, Oct. 8), I stopped by Iona Beach in Richmond, B.C. On the smooth water illuminated in a golden hue were Mallards gliding into the sunset.

The common Sparrow too was swept in an amber tone. In that frame, nothing seemed common anymore.

And finally, I saw the sun slide down the distant sky. What a sight to wrap up Thanksgiving. If anything’s common… it’s common grace.

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Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books.

A Note About These Photos: No colours had been added nor saturation altered in any of them.

Saturday Snapshot October 6: Autumn Birdwatching

Taken two days ago while birdwatching in -5°C temp. That’s 23°F … Frozen flowers, leafless branches, but still bright and sunny Robin redbreast.

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Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books.

Saturday Snapshot Sept. 29: Canada Geese

While I was birdwatching this week, I saw a flock of Canada Geese fly overhead in perfect V formation. With my recently trained quick reaction, I pointed my camera up, framed them so beautifully in my viewfinder, and CLICK. Shoot, my camera was turned off. Another quick reaction, I turned it back on and tried again… catching the tail end of the troop.

Here it is, better late than never:

Thanks to Alyce of At Home With Books for hosting Saturday Snapshot, let me have a chance to hone my eye-hand coordination.

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Tomorrow September 30 is our Anna Karenina Read-Along First Post: Parts 1-4. Stop by again to join in the discussion and make some ripples.

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A Whole New World: Saturday Snapshot September 15

An Autumn birdwatching course I just started brings me to a whole new world I haven’t explored before. Of course I’ve observed birds, appreciated and even photographed them occasionally, but never so up close and personal, and purposeful.

Some in my group are equipped with long 400mm lens, nature paparazzi. But we leave nature be, of course, and being so far away from our subjects, no invasion of privacy. This pensive Gull isn’t a bit bothered by us.

With just a 50-200mm lens, this is the best I can do. The Osprey is harder to capture of course. With a little help from iPhoto, here’s a closer look of her/him perched high up in a tree, and even farther cruising in the bright blue sky.

I can only wonder why it has taken me so long to come to such a fascinating world. 12 more weeks to go, yes, into the snow likely.

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Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books.

Saturday Snapshot August 4

Found this while taking my evening walk a few days ago. A white spider on what looks like a miniature sunflower. Can anyone identify both? I’ve never seen a spider like that before, or such a flower in the wild.

Soon it begins its acrobatic routine:

a natural for the Cirque du Soleil:

These last two shots are taken pointing to the light, hence the hazy result. But if you look closely you can see this little spider having fun.

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Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books.

This is My Spring…

… and I’m fine with it.

I’ve seen lush green meadows, full bloom flowers, and fresh plump berries from many of your spring posts. I must share with you what I’m getting…

It’s a long process before green appears, but we’re used to that. Spring for us is a gestation of life, a long process. There can be false starts too, teasing us with more snow. It tests our patience.

First we wait for all the snow to melt:

The Melting Bow River — The melting Bow River

A closer look only fascinates me more, the sight and sound of spring… a rythmic ploink… ploink.

Ice dripping on stones — Dripping ice water

Melting ice on stones — Icy frame of a kaleidoscope

The slowness of spring allows me to cherish a while longer the sights of a season past:

Remants from last fall — Remnants of a colourful fall

Meanwhile… the buds silently appear. No greens yet, but still a sure sign of spring. Brown tips burgeoning out everywhere, keen and strong:

Before the greens, many colours have to parade by, nature’s processional. As a spectator, I can only applaud.

Spring will burst forth in all its glory… in its time.

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Looking for “Intrusions of Grace” in Nature

This may be the easiest to find, especially with our glorious fall this year. Not intrusions, but infusion of common grace. I’m amazed because everywhere I turn, I see beauty that’s out there and so accessible to me. Like their raison d’etre is for me to behold and enjoy. From the macro scale like these scenery at Banff National Park:

To the medium range, nature in our city streets:

To the micro scale. Last long weekend, I walked the Douglas Fir Trail. Again, I’m grateful for our urban parks:

And what an apt occasion, Thanksgiving Day, for me to discover all these minute wonders on the Trail. First, the colours:

Nature in the miniscule… the varieties of berries. Black against red:

Red against green:

And these pure whites like pearls in the undergrowth:

And the vibrant lives on two fallen twigs… I was mesmerized:

If we’re intruded by grace, I’m more than willing to give in.

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Signs of Fall

The changing of the seasons is best captured in nature. Immersed in the glorious sunshine and unusually mild temperatures, I took these photos in my neck of the woods on the last day of summer. Yes, I’ve enjoyed my occasional trips out to the B.C. Coast, or my excursions in Toronto, where the sign of fall is the Film Festival. But I’ve been solidly grounded all these years in Southern Alberta.

Here are the reasons…

These are glimpses of Fish Creek Provincial Park, a natural sanctuary of 13.8 km2 (3,330 acres) right within our City’s boundary. It is one of the largest urban parks in North America. This is where I see the signs of fall, Alberta style.

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I won’t see the red as in B.C. or the East Coast where maples are prevalent, but here our own golden, rusty shades are soothing and ethereal. Remember the colour scheme in that movie “Far From Heaven” with Julianne Moore, or Terrence Malick’s “Days of Heaven“? Funny that both films have the same word in their title.

And with succulent fruits ready for the picking, here’s a sure sign of fall:

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All Photos taken by Arti of Ripple Effects, September, 2011.

For more wonderful fall photos CLICK HERE to my post Looking for ‘Intrusions of Grace’ in Nature

The Tranquil Side of Vancouver

I’m not a hockey fan. I go to Vancouver mainly for the tranquility of forests, gardens and greenery. There are places where one can be utterly alone, in quiet solitude. Especially now after the ugly Stanley Cup riot, I must show you this side of Vancouver, the quiet gardens and forests that offer one a haven far from the madding crowd.

The flora on the UBC campus… the budding irises, hanging wisteria, exploding rhododendrons, and the unknown flowers and foliage (I’d appreciate your identifying them for me below the rhododendron)… and the sequestered Nitobe Japanese Garden:

The Nitobe Japanese Garden:

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Art of gardening

nature reshaped, redesigned

prune the riotous heart

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Winter in November

Just a mere two weeks ago, I was taking an Autumn walk, where I enjoyed a feast of sight and sound.

But now, besieged by a snow storm two days ago, we have been made captives by the fierce side of nature. We skid through icy roads and make it home only to perform our due diligence, the removal of mountains of snow on our driveway and sidewalk.

After two days, I am determined to break out of this physical and psychological confinement. If we are to have winter in November, so be it. Might as well embrace nature in all her facets. Donning a toque, gloves, winter jacket and snow boots, I ventured out earlier today. Here are some of the sights:

As I treaded through knee-deep snow, I came upon the place where I spotted my deer friend munching on his foliage just two short weeks earlier. And even just a few days ago, I saw his clan scavenging the dry grass. Where could they be hiding in this minus 15 C temperature? What would they have for supper? Where and how do they sleep at night with the fierce wind blowing at even colder minus 20’s?

Just then the sun broke out through the overcast sky, I seemed to hear my deer friend saying: Don’t worry about us. We’ve gone through numerous winters, and still able to raise a clan. As long as the sun comes out everyday…

Even the evergreens seemed to be waving at me, you mind your own slippery drive and cabin fever, we’ll be fine.

Yes, as long as the sun comes out everyday, we’ll soon see spring.

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A Late Autumn Walk

What’s more pleasurable

than a late Autumn walk in the wild

Chopin as companion, ballade cinematic

Tonal colors streamed through earbuds

Sight and sound in perfect harmony

Stripped of adorning leaves,

the birches displayed their true essence.

Backbones strong against the wind,

Branches lifted to reach the remaining sun

Stoic elegance intertwined Romanze Larghetto

And then we met,

A surprise encounter, a momentary start,

Among the low bushes a deer, antlers majestic,

Eyes darted up from his quiet meal,

Weighing my next move.

I walked past without stopping.

It’s not polite to stare,

especially when someone’s eating.

His gaze held me a moment, then let me pass.

I sensed a mutual respect, nature shared.

And so we parted, unperturbed,

after just a split second of cautious exchange,

leaving each other feeding freely,

foliage in his mouth,

and Chopin in my ears.

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This is what I was listening to… Chopin Piano Concerto No. 1, Second Movement, Romanze Larghetto.

That Was Then… This Is Now

Just three days ago I was walking along The Bow River, enjoying the brilliant double-digit temperature. Today is quite a different picture. These are photos I took just a couple of hours ago, temperature hovering around 3 degrees C. They were taken not too far from the deer sighting location on Mother’s Day. But today, May 27, three days after Victoria Day, the scene is another world.

As one who tries to preserve the most natural and authentic images, I’ve left the photos as they are, no adjustment, not even cropping here. I like the blurry overtone, their lack of colors, for in reality, it was snowing heavily and the sky was grey. I’d enjoyed this impromptu photo session. I came home soaking wet.

But all this time I’ve been thinking about the oil spill down in the Mexican Gulf coast. It’s one thing about snow in May for us, or even in July, or baseball-size hail in August, or the fierce blizzards in the winter, these we’ve learned to take as they come, knowing they’re ‘act of God’.

But, if something happens due to human errors or negligence, or which is preventable if more caution was paid, or less greed was involved, or political interests were laid aside, or more value placed on life, human or nature, then it’s a different matter. Such are the times when we can’t be docilely yielding, as to a sovereign deity. Drastic measures are definitely needed in a time such as this.

No doubt, these pictures are thousands of miles from the Gulf coast, a huge gap in climate, a drastic difference in natural habitat. Nonetheless, the air that once was in Chernobyl would ultimately reach us just the same as the tides from the tsunami of the Indian Ocean. We’re shrouded by the same atmosphere; we’re linked by the same waters. So, your pelican is also my pelican, likewise, my deer, your deer.

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