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.
***
Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books.
Saturday Snapshot hosted by At Home With Books.
At long last, Spring has finally sprung. For those of you in a much warmer climate, you can’t imagine we’re just beginning to see greens and buds.
Here are some of the photos I took while taking an evening walk in my neck of the woods a couple of days ago.
Wildflowers emerge:
The evening sun turning the green trees into golden fall colours.
And this morning I find all these buds on a pine tree, haven’t seen them so red like berries before:
Yes, Spring is finally here for us.
***
… 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:
A closer look only fascinates me more, the sight and sound of spring… a rythmic ploink… ploink.
The slowness of spring allows me to cherish a while longer the sights of a season past:
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.
***
There are films that I expect to glean meaning from but leave me disappointed. And then there are those that do not appear to provoke thought at the outset and yet manage to do so, sending me out the theatre with gratified resonance. The Grey is one such film.
A plane carrying a group of Arctic oil-rig workers crash in the deep snow of the Alaskan wilderness. There are seven survivors. The task of leading them out of the crash site to seek safety falls on the shoulders of John Ottway (Liam Neeson). His job at the oil rig is security, a marksman protecting the workers from wild wolves. At the beginning of the film Ottway is shown to be suicidal, overwhelmed with grief from the recent passing of his wife. It is ironic to see at the end, he is propelled by courage to fight for his life.
In the cold expanse of Alaska, Ottway leads the surviving men to trudge through deep snow, trying to get to safety away from wolf territory. The men are pitted against each other, stranded at nature’s mercy, defenceless against a pack of carnivorous grey wolves. It’s a survival story, a suspense thriller that has me on the edge of my seat. But it goes further than that.
Director Joe Carnahan does not just show a group of roughnecks toughing it out in extreme condition, facing death at every turn. He brings to the forefront some existential queries, as one by one the men fall prey to the wild. Stripped to bare existence, how is man different from wolves? For what do we live? For what do we die? Such moments of ruminations are enhanced by Masanobu Takayanagi’s meditative cinematography.
As they leave the crash site, Ottway tells the survivors to collect all the wallets from the victims so they can contact their family, if they ever get back home. From the photos in their wallets, we get a glimpse of lives lived, and know that they have loved ones waiting. Following their treacherous path, we might sense that their outward skepticism masks a painful and silent hope for a transcending force, One who can save them from their fateful predicament.
The men don’t bond right away. The unruly, the scared acting tough. But extreme circumstances change them quickly. Sitting around a fire, they learn to cherish the memories they’ve had in their life, and begin to value each other. We know their fears. We listen to their stories. In one moving moment, Ottway shares a poem he remembers his Irish grandfather had written. Little does he know those words would become the fuel that catapults him to fight for his life at the end.
There’s something about Liam Neeson that stands out in a film. He embodies a kind of dignified charisma. But here in The Grey, it’s not just charisma, it is like poignant reality. The look on his face speaks volumes. In the film, he conjures up in his mind the wife he has loved and lost lying beside him. “Be brave,” he can hear her loving whisper. In real life, he just may be aching for the same, as his wife Natasha Richardson died after an accident in the snow three years ago.
Animal advocacy groups have voiced out their opposition to the portrayal of the Grey Wolves in the movie. Wolves are social animals, gentle and non-aggressive, they argue. The film gives them a bad rap. My thought is this: If a young human can go into his school and massacre his peers, and if humans can murder members of their own clans, why is it hard to imagine carnivorous wild wolves would prey and attack intruders in their territory? Showing that animals do act on their instinct is no disrespect.
After all, this is not a scientific study of wolf behavior. The film is less about wolves than men. The questions it poses cannot be answered by Science. And if you have to be accurate about all the facts, it’s not in Alaska where they shot the film, but here in Arti’s territory of Western Canada, Alberta and British Columbia to be exact. But what does it matter?
I will not give away spoiler about the ending, for it struck me most strongly and left me with deep resonance as I walked out of the theatre. It is poignant and powerful, although I did hear a gasp of ‘what?’ from someone in the dark theatre. If you go to see this movie, do sit through the credits, and stay there until the very end of the roll, you’ll see something more.
Yes, there is suspense and some action. But what’s more important is that there are quiet moments for ruminations. If you are comfortable with that, you would likely care to follow these men in their precarious strive for survival.
~ ~ ~ Ripples
***
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:
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To the medium range, nature in our city streets:
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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.
***
All photos taken by Arti of Ripple Effects in the fall of 2011. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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.
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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.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
For more wonderful fall photos CLICK HERE to my post Looking for ‘Intrusions of Grace’ in Nature
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.
***
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
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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
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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.
***
This is what I was listening to… Chopin Piano Concerto No. 1, Second Movement, Romanze Larghetto.
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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All photos taken by Arti of Ripple Effects, May 27, 2010. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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Here we are, our clan of extended family, out for a Mother’s Day picnic. The weather’s just fine, though a bit chilly. But for a May afternoon in Cowtown, we think it’s acceptable.
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Well you got to eat out some time. What better day than on Mother’s Day. Why, our human neighbors have to cook… can smell their Bar-B-Q from far. What a chore! Wonder if it’s their Mom who has to clean up. As for us, even though the grass is a bit dry, at least we don’t have to deal with all that trans fat and high sodium.
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Wait, this is just too good to pass up.
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And an evening stroll after dinner. Ahh… Mother knows best.
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Hey, who’s that trying to take our pictures? Haven’t you seen a deer family picnic before? Oh right, not in your backyard… but, isn’t this our backyard?
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A Note About the Photos: Arti took them in her neck of the woods, the shared backyard with the Deer Family, on Mother’s Day, 2010. All Rights Reserved.
***
Arti disappeared from Cowtown for a few days and reappeared in Ketchikan, Alaska. That’s the cause for the delay in replying some of your comments from the last post. I decided to rid myself of all internet and phone access so I could make these short few days a real getaway.
But herein lies the nagging dilemma: Is there a better way to access nature other than the commercial route? Arti had to follow the crowd and board a cruise ship, not her choice of transport, but … what are the options?
So here it is, a visual account of my journey at sea to Ketchikan, the south-western tip of Alaska, north of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.
We set sail at the Canada Place Terminal. On deck looking out, Port Vancouver’s famous architectural sails look slightly surreal, a virtual outdoor gallery of sculptures larger than life:
Leaving Port Vancouver:
After a couple of days at sea, we arrived at Ketchikan, Alaska. Among other things like being the salmon capital of the world, Ketchikan is famous for its rain, measuring its precipitation in feet, not inches.
Here’s Ketchikan under overcast sky:
A little more cheery scene:
Ketchikan is also home to The Tongass Rain Forest, the largest national forest in the United States. It is part of the Pacific Temperate Rain Forest Region, which is second in size to the world’s largest Amazon Tropical Rain Forest.
Arti ventured into this area with a naturalist. Together with 15 others in our group, we trod the trails of the Alaska Rain Forest Sanctuary. Here are the sights I’ve sailed all the way for:
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Colorful undergrowth
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One of the many species of mushrooms, some giant ones grow on trees.
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Devil’s Paw, food for the bears. Underneath are poisonous hooks, but the bears deftly eat off the stems of the plant.
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Ferns and moss: Even tree branches are covered with moss. As the branches grow heavier, they will break off the tree, fulfilling a natural pruning process.
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Momentarily, we came to a creek. Yes, salmon swam up here: Right in the middle of a rain forest we saw gulls gathering, competing with the bears for the salmon in the water. We were fortunate to see a mother bear with two cubs. Here in this fuzzy (sorry, Arti was too excited) photo, you can see, even though ‘bearly’, the mother and one of her cubs on the left:
And this next one is out of this world. Gulls flying all around above the creek, a magical, even mythical sight to behold:
We next visited a reindeer farm. I’ve seen elks and deers in my neck of the woods in Alberta, but this is the first time I saw reindeers. Here’s a curious fella:
When we left Ketchikan, it was pouring rain:
On our way back to Vancouver, we cruised through the Inside Passage. It offered one of the most beautiful sights in the whole journey:
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Of course, it’s Arti’s nature to find ripples everywhere:
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The Inside Passage at dusk, the silence punctuated only by the calls of gulls and frolicking dolphins splashing in and out of the quiet water. Yes, I saw the synchronized dances of two dolphins jumping out of the water and diving back in, but it was just too impromptu to capture by my camera.
This is my best memory, sunset along the Inside Passage:
*****
Photos taken by Arti of Ripple Effects, September, 09. All Rights Reserved.
Arti is blogging from Vancouver these two weeks. Here are some initial sights from yesterday’s roaming.
Rhododendrons everywhere:
Views from Spanish Bank:
Vancouver Skyline
Solitary Moment
Woodpecker hard at work and play
Despite the temperamental weather, Arti will be soaking in all the views, making best use of her solitary moments to peck away … oh, who cares whether it’s for work or play. The woodpecker knows there’s no boundary separating the two.
ORIGINAL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY ARTI OF RIPPLE EFFECTS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. MAY, 2009.
IF YOU SEE THIS ON A SITE OTHER THAN RIPPLE EFFECTS, YOU’RE SEEING A POST THAT’S BEEN COPIED WITHOUT PERMISSION. CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE ORIGINAL SITE https://rippleeffects.wordpress.com
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