All my years making photographs in southern Ocean County, and I never before tread at Cloverdale Farm County Park. All this time a wonderful bit of landscape has sat in wooded hiding mere miles from my home. I had no idea. The park itself is an old cranberry bog, and it features wooded trails, duck blinds, and numerous shallow pools full of bramble and sedge. I wish I had this in my spot rotation years ago.
Here we have another blurry pan shot photograph. Only this time the camera motion is top to bottom vertical, instead of left to right horizontal. While we have an out of focus image, we know where we are, what we are doing; walking along a golden sun lit wooded trail at golden hour.
We are but a few days away from 2024 and I still I try to work through my 2023 photography backlog. With luck I will get a few more pictures posted before year end. Right in time for the best of 2023 year in photos retrospective. For reference, I made this shot on 2 December 2023.
The Green Zone — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Not much beats the salt marsh in June. It’s about as good as a flat, horizontal landscape can look. For me it’s the way the newborn emerald green sedge grass complements a royal blue sky at golden hour. This power trio realizes its highest level in early summer; running about mid-June through the fourth of July. Pair this with dramatic clouds fed by a tropical airmass and you have yourself a proper summertime treat. Real glad I took a moment out of my day to make it to the Dock Road marsh last night.
I finally found myself at Longwood Gardens. An exquisite bit of preserved property open to the public—for a fee, of course. And I do not mean to be cynical. Such a place needs and deserves its funding. I am happy to contribute to such conservation and presentation. My brother from another mother took me with his family, and we had ourselves an afternoon. Wandering the grounds, exploring the conservatory. An exceptional afternoon.
Worthy of its name, flowers were everywhere. Color and smell played upon the senses on what proved an idyllic spring day. It was wonderful to take it all in. More uplifting, however, was to be among the people. The families families and friends; the solo wanderers, all brought together to experience a garden in springtime. I cannot wait to return.
Autumn colors burn with such righteous intensity it’s as if we can breathe it in and hear its glow serenade at the core of our heart. The last golden ember of a great fire poised for transcendence. As a symphony to all senses it plays true to a cultivated soul. It’s a paradox, of course, nature revealing the esoteric mystery of life’s fated dance with death while veiled in a golden cloak of unspeakable beauty. The death of life colored in celebration for its promised rebirth. Autumn intones this ministry to the world. A miraculous offering made for those with the keen sense to receive.
Color the Season — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/40
The calendar flips, it’s getting short on pages. The daylight wanes and I take stock of my photography. Judged on quantity alone this will be my least productive year yet. Fewest number of posts since starting this site in January 2014, and the fewest number of photographs since I began shooting in January 2012. Such a surface level analysis falls short, leaving the scene unfinished. When assessing the quality of my work I take more solace in my production. My photography continues to improve, and that’s the metric that counts. Though I’d be lying if I said my reduced output hasn’t gnawed at me. Yet the story doesn’t stop here.
The best, and most surprising development in 2017 has come by way of writing. My photography has always been the feature on this site, and that will not change. Even so, writing has assumed new prominence and personal joy. I would go so far to say I experience more intrinsic reward writing when compared to shooting and processing. I’m not going to contend I am great—or even good—at writing. But I will contend it stretches my mind and creativity in unexpected ways. The reality that writing does not come as natural to me as photography is a factor here as well. There is reward in the effort.
In previous years I’d make a photo, post it here and write a paragraph or two about the shot itself. If not that I’d discuss the motions I was going through in making said shot. It was little more than a narrative recounting of the scene I was capturing. Of course, a well made photo can do a far better job of conveying a scene. Lately I have been poring more energy in telling stories. I let the photograph trigger a thought, idea, or suggestion and I run with it, even if it has next to nothing to do with the photo itself. This freeform flow follows a similar trajectory to how I have always settled on my photo titles. I most always let the first thought or phrase that comes to my mind stick. And now so it goes with my writing exercise. It creates a nice companion piece to stand aside my photo work. While it may not be for everyone it helps me grow as a person and as a creator. It also makes me more excited about my own photography.
There’s no reason to expect this trend will not continue as November turns to December, and as the calendar reloads with a fresh stack of pages come 2018. I will continue to take more risks with my writing, letting my mind stroll where it is wont to go. My hope beyond this is that I can work more creative risk taking into my photography. To take new steps, take more risks and infuse more creative to my work. A lot can happen in a year, and not all of it expected.
Midas on the Marsh — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
What is it about gold? It’s beauty renown; it’s appeal universal. Coveted across cultures and throughout ages, gold transcends. An economist may chalk it up to scarcity. A philosopher may cite an intrinsic modality difficult for lesser minds to parse. An historian would describe it as a mechanism to transact both conquest, trade, and subjugation. While the artist muses on its form. A keen jeweler lauds its malleability and costly demand. The scientist matter of factly notes its place among the stars.
I like to think humanity has somehow known gold’s unique origin. An inbred sense of understanding its special creation. A creation that happens in the immediate aftermath of an exploding star. This is where the heavier metals come to be—the cauldron of a supernova factory. Through this gold shines through, connecting heaven and earth, culture and tribe, epoch and epoch. Whether in the search of avarice or beauty, gold calls to us all.
The Old Wood Span — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/30
To the romance of wood. The fuel of the hearth. The bones of the home. The backdrop of the written word. Nailed to the story of man wood’s place in civilization’s ascent is both secure and unsung. Its importance overshadowed by the power of stone, bronze, and iron. Perhaps there being no Wood Age—nor great monuments to its own—lends to its secondary status. Regardless, the power of the trees have freed us from the land and we should not forget.
While it has not the historical cachet of stone, bronze, or iron, it does invoke the warm feelings of a simpler time. This is where my mind runs when I look upon old, well-fashioned wooden structures. From an early age wood crafts, buildings, bridges, and even roller coasters fired my interest. The fine tuned skill and the care left behind from the souls who put all into their work. Underneath that work is history. Who built this? Where did they master their craft?And with whom? When was it built? How long did it take? And what of the material? Is it oak? Is it ash or pine? Where was it milled? From forest to work site to finished structure is where the grand narrative sits. For while this is the story of but one bridge, it’s the story of the bulwark of our civilization writ large. For ours is a story warmed by it, built upon it, and sheltered underneath it—the shaded age of wood has never ceased to be.
I invite you to journey with me. But first you much breathe. Close your eyes and breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Slow your mind and follow your breath. In. Out. Deep breaths at first. Three or four long inhalations followed by slow and steady exhalation. Focusing on the breath. In. Out. Forget about the world. Repeat. Now let your breath find its way back to its natural rhythm. Let the calm wash over you. In. Out. All in its own time. Ah yes, now you are ready to go.
Now open your mind and drift. Drift as the dancing leaf carried on an inspired breeze, unencumbered—free. Slow and calm you descend. In. Out. With your mind settled to a natural focus you transport to a sense of place. A place of warmth—of hope and possibility. A place of sprawling green, flowing water, and the sweet kiss of waning summer sun. A scene to soothe the soul. Stay in that place, bathed in golden tones, ever safe and bright. Stop the time and breath. Uplifted and free. In. Out.
