Tag: hdr

Made back on Christmas Eve, I have been sitting on this photograph for a week now. No real reason other than way too much life happening right now, and far too little of it the good kind. Nevertheless the capstone holiday for many children the world over met well with a fine burn over southern Ocean County. Doubtless the North Pole swarmed and pulsed with its final pre-flight check as the sun kissed its goodbyes.

Tonight begins another round of goodbyes. Goodbye to both a year and a decade. It is time for the ’20s whether ready or not. No choice but to embrace what is and what is about to be. My wish for the new year is more love, hope, patience, and tolerance for us all. Less reacting and more understanding. Less judgement and more forgiveness. Less emptiness and more fulfillment. Appreciate all you have—for having that which matters most is always a temporary condition. So love full and love complete, and know yours is a life well lived.

Thanks again, everyone. Happy New Year to you and yours. I wish continued blessings to those whose cups are full, yet I will not miss the chance to recognize, love, and honor those whom struggle with loss and loneliness during this time. I see you.

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Yesterday afternoon was a treat. A late stage pulsing sunset served a tonic for the soul. An overcast deck held sway even as the sun dropped below the horizon leaving grays and blues dominating. Yet I waited. There was enough breaks to the cloud and enough experience chasing sunsets to know I ought lend time to the sky. Five minutes passed and sure enough a touch of pink begin building to my south-southwest. Over the next five minutes a panoply of pastel color flourished. The game was afoot.

Unfortunately, a fellow sunset reveler about a quarter mile away threw in the towel too early. They packed up early and missed the show, reminding me too often people bail on the sunset too soon. So one quick tip I’m more than happy to share: Wait at least 10 minutes after the sunsets before punching out. (20 minutes if you have time to spare.) This simple change will take your sunset photo making to the next level. Far more often the best color comes 5-10 minutes after sundown. Remember this and please apply accordingly. Now get out there and wait for it.

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Had you set about the salt marsh to draw up a sunset on a late September evening in the mid-Atlantic it ought look like this. Bronzed rust tones overtaking once green grasses in a slow, albeit determined race toward inevitability. Above you rainbow pastels are strewn and pulled into a never repeating gossamer stretched about the sky. All backlit by a rich clear blue heralding the return of stiff northern winds. Cold weather is coming, best to enjoy these last few weeks of comfortable temperatures before the drive toward darkness sets in anchored with the bitter bite of cold.

As I was on Cedar Run Dock Road’s salt marsh last night making photographs some thoughts came to mind:

• September is a solid month for sunsets. I hypothesize it has a higher degree of quality sunsets than most other months—the summer months at least. I have yet to verify with my own archives, but it feels this way. They all have this kind of color scheme and pastel cloud combination as photographed here. Of course, recency bias may be undermining better judgement since we are coming off about a week or so of this kind of sunset. If i am right, I wonder what drives this trend? Seasonal change? Angle and position of the sun? Something else entirely?
• Despite temperatures a shade below room temperature while I was shooting, I could feel the wind driving colder air and drying out my face. A reminder winter approaches.
• Seeing the marsh transition to brown always is bitter sweet. On the one hand the lush days of a vibrant green landscape are over, while on the other hand, the promise of superlative winter sunsets with a peculiar color palette draws near.
• I was able to capture quality photographs three out of the last seven days. It has been a long while since I had a run like this. (See also recency bias in bullet one.)
• I miss editing photos on a spacious 27″ iMac. Major first world problem, I know, but I do miss it. The added real estate brought me so much closer to my own work. Working on a laptop these past few years has left me feeling somehow disconnected to my art. A good craftsman ought not blame his tools but is it so wrong to miss them?

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Stillness. Calm quiet. Pausing chaos. A tranquility tonic serving up restoration to all who imbibe. Bartender care to fix another?

The evening approaches and cotton candy clouds thread across the sky. Pastels dance upon the strings. Stoic marsh grasses stand tall while glass calm waters reflect back the sunset tableau as would a mirror.

When the marsh takes quiet my world slows down. My anxieties made void in the deadened wind; a resolved peace reflected back in still waters unmoved by nervous energy. Here I seek shelter. Here I find welcome. Here I learn amity. Set upon hushed grasses I hear silence surround me. Anxiety, outflanked by the power of tranquility, falls silent before the still tones of peace.

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A rough seven days it has been. Long hours, careless mistakes, inattention, and stress all smothered in a shroud of anxiety addled uncertainty. A zero out of 10. Let us not do this again.

Then I come to Dock Road, and I remember. Reminded of the beauty of the natural world I remember there is more to life than our failures and anxieties. We are not the embodiment of our worst selves. We are the light that burns manifold colors over the serene stillness of the life giving marsh.

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Hey, it’s me. The human tasked with running this website, a would-be content producer or something. Of course running is a loose term considering I’ve ghosted for about a month. Since launch in January 2014 I have never missed a month getting at least one post up. So here I am, getting in under the wire on August 31, 2019. For a while this year I was churning out of modicum of quality content but I slipped. Here’s hoping I can get back to regular posts and photographs.

This photo, Late Summer, takes us back to a sparkling sunset that stunned the LBI Region with evening drama on Friday, August 23. I was out at dinner with my family and missed the best parts. Rainbows and mammatus clouds dominated the eastern vantage gracing any and all whom happened to be open on the beach at that hour. It must have been an absolute stunner.

Chagrined and full of missing out anxiety we beelined for home. My toes tapping nervously from the passenger seat at each red light. Looking out the window handcuffed to inactivity, I could do nothing to arrest what I was missing. Finally home I made a mad dash into the house to grab my gear. The clock was ticking. From there it was a full tilt beeline—all while observing proper posted speed limits—to Cedar Run Dock Road.

Once in position I had about 5-10 minutes to capture the remaining light. Nature at least begged my pardon with a sparkling second act. Sure I missed the rainbow infused mammatus, but at least I made out with a pleasing late summer sunset.

With that I check the box for August 2019 posts. Let’s go September; let’s do this. Summer is late but I have no time for early fall.

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I bring you the marsh. I bring you a sunset. I bring you an idiom. The salt marsh was lit last night, and I have the brackets to prove it. I am fortunate to have such a spot to photograph so close to home. Topping the list is Cedar Run Dock Road. A hop, skip, and a jump from my house is holds sway as a striking salt marsh. It is a classic example of a Mid-Atlantic marsh ecosystem primed to support substantial annual avian migrations. How lucky am I that I can be out there in 10 minutes?

I want to critique myself here; not something I do often but it is nagging me enough to share. So out with it: I am not sold on this composition. My eyes and brain struggle with where to look. It’s not so much a balance thing, the weight seems right, as much as the multiple tide pools are somehow disjointed. It’s disrupting my usual ability to know where to look and how to get there as I move across a photograph. I am curious if others feel the same way.

That said the awkward spread of brackish water pools and marsh grass tells a more complete story of the marshland. It lets the viewer in on the spread; the random array of water and green grass as it spans square miles of salt marsh. In this respect it better portrays the salt marsh as it is, a living complex of life and color.

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Pastel and glass at sunset on the marsh. Cotton candy spun across the sky looking down upon its mirrored reflection. Serenity now, and to hell with the insanity later. Marsh grasses flex gently in the slightest of breeze, a hint of baby’s breath to complete the tableau. Exhale and smile—it is summer on the salt marsh.

There was nothing too crazy in the execution of this photograph. Tripod and 14mm lens. The former set to a height of about four feet, and the latter dialed in to maximize hyperfocal distance with an aperture of f/8. From there a simple check to get leveled out and then popping off seven bracketed exposures, a one step separation between each. With the lazy shutter on the final bracket allowing more light to illuminate the marsh grass, giving the ghosting effect demonstrating movement. Bringing the baby’s breath breeze into the frame. It is the only hint of motion in an otherwise still scene.

When Mother Nature shows up with a perfect mix of elements execution is simple. It’s a point and shoot situation, and your job is to know where to stand.

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