Canon EOS 1D Mark III, Canon 40mm ƒ/2.8, 1/400 @ ISO 100
“I believe there have been men since his day who have ridden a long way to avoid a rencontre, and then galloped hastily back lest they should miss it. It is favorite stratagem of our passions to sham a retreat, and to turn sharp around upon us at the moment we have made up our minds that the day is our own.” - George Eliot, Adam Bede
I have been learning that spring in the Midwest is as slippery as a eel. I’m still sore from at least one complete wipe out on my sidewalk. But in a seasonal sense as well, the winter keep feigning retreat and then doubling back and surprising us. George Eliot’s description of the foibles of ambivalent gentlemen seems an apt description of our climate.
I had to feel sorry for this leaf as, a moment before making this photo, I watch it blow off of its tree and land in the cradle of the half-buried sprig. It was five months late for its deciduous cycle, and a month or two early to truly claim to have outlasted the winter. It had hung on so long, but fell too soon and joined its frozen brothers and sisters on the journey of decomposition.
The winter is like a tragedian trapped in a comedy. It wants the frozen world to think that there is no hope. In truth, its retreat is inevitable, but meanwhile it will do everything is it power to convince us that it’s reign is inexorable and irresistible.
Come soon, denouement.
It was fun, last Thanksgiving Day, to step outside and frolic in a chilly Minnesotan sunset for a few portraits with my professor and his lovely wife.
I can’t resist a quote which seems to have been taken so completely to heart by my canny professor.
A poem apropos of the melting snow:
No more gloom
My day –
A serendipity worth noting:
This poem was not written with St. Valentines day in mind, nor was it particularly appropriate to that day in my mind, until I discovered (via The Inky Fool) that birds have a long and important relationship with the holiday.
Written in the 14th century, Chaucer’s The Parliament of Fowls (readable here) is among the first references to St. Valentine’s day as an especially romantic day. A perusal of the poem reveals that it is both overwhelmingly better than mine, and quite a difficult read for a modern English speaker.
So there you have it, my first published poem and some extraneous information.
A Soft Summer Sunset
Canon 1D Mark III, 40mm, 1/60 @ ƒ/2.8, ISO 100
Christian Gulch, Idaho
I was driving home last night at about half past eleven. The last of a storm system that had poured rain and lit up the sky with lighting was moving off to the east. To the west, a brilliant half-moon hung low in clear sky. Amazingly, two hours after the sun had set, the moon cast a double rainbow in the receding and dissolving clouds.
What better way to enjoy the shade along a river, than with a bit of quiet flatpicking?
And have you ever met someone who has music in their blood, to whom all life can be expressed in his subtle melodies and harmonies?
If you have ever met my brother, you may know what I mean.
Canon 1D Mark III, 85mm, 1/250 @ ƒ/1.8, ISO 1000
Pahsimeroi Valley, Idaho
Hooker River, The Southern Alps, New Zealand
Canon 1D Mark III, 24mm, 1/800 @ ƒ/8.0, ISO 100