TS Eliot was wrong. Februrary, not April, is “the cruelest month.” At least for me. Yes, the days are getting longer. Yes, the temperature ocassionally soars into the high 20s. But it is often in the heart of February that what I think is SAAD (seasonal affective disorder) hits me. And I lose my will to post new photos to this blog.
So I’m posting old stuff. . . But, in the event that you haven’t meticulously looked at all four years of my posts, you’ve probably never seen some of these. So maybe they’re not old.
This is deja vu all over again, given that I have already posted an HDR photo of this tree. I moved closer to the tree for this shot and I used a slightly different HDR process to make this picture. And Monet painted the same thing over and over and look where it got him. . . .
Well, how about another golden aspen tree? This photo was taken a few years ago near Center Lake in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
This photo could have been captured anywhere in the western world, I suppose, though its not something you’d see in our small town, mainly because they would feel like they would stand out.
This photo was taken in a busy section of Ljubljana, Slovenia, and the woman was so enthralled by her book that she wasn’t aware of my camera, which once again turned by into a bit of a voyeur.
Canon 5DII 1/125s f/4.5 ISO320 102mm
This is an HDR photo I took on San Juan Island in Washington state.
We don’t have trees like this in South Dakota – at least in my part of the state. I think it is an oak tree and oak trees have a very distinct form of brachiation. The branches are twisted and, in my mind, gothic. I would have bare, twisted oak trees in front of my haunted house, if I owned one.
This tree is about to leaf out and lives (happily or hauntedly?) on San Juan Island in Washington state.
It looks like I’m in to looking up trees’ trunks given this and yesterday’s post. And I guess I am. . .
This is a tree that our family named “Big Boy” over three decades ago. It lives on our cabin’s property line in the Black Hills. It was old all those years ago so it is now Old + 30, I guess.
Recently, Deb and I made the pilgrimage up the hill to see this venerable giant, in part to see if there is any evidence that Big Boy had fallen victim to the tree beetles that are killing trees all over the Black Hills right now. His boughs are green and he stands tall, though there was sap leaking out a hole a few feet up his trunk.
We walked down the hill hoping that this huge pine tree wouldn’t let a few small bugs bring him down.
I drove up to what some people in Watertown call “Harmony Hill.” It was a foggy morning and I was thinking that I would get an interesting shot of the ethanol plant down below, belching steam into the early morning fog. But when I got to the top of the hill, I couldn’t even see the ethanol plant. But I did see this small group of trees, edged with the serpentine road that led to a nearby monastery.
This shot is pretty seriously Photoshopped, in part because I’ve been learning a few new things and I wanted to practice them. This photo had 4 layers before I flattered it to publish it.
Revision: I orignally posted a nearly square version but Jack’s post inspired me to look again at the original crop. Jack’s right: the full view is more “atmospheric.”