Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: landscape

  • Back on the Fire

    Back on the Fire

    Sunset photo of pastel color clouds over reflective water and green salt marsh.
    Back on the Fire — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Two sunsets in one week? Two sunsets in one week! This is like three months photographic output at my paltry 2018 pace. Photography has been on the back burner this year yet I am keen to get back on the fire. As it was earlier this week, I made a last minute 8:00 p.m. decision to drop the apathy and get out to the marsh. Standing in my driveway I saw Mammatus clouds were setting up over head. It looked to hold through sunset. To my gear I bolted.

    From there it was the usual drive out to Cedar Run Dock Road. Engaged in rapid knee bouncing to exercise the am I going to make it in time? low grade anxiety. I arrived in 12 minutes in a world of peak green. At a salt marsh imbued with the emerald glow of life and energy. Nothing beats it when a pastel sky sets up over top casting a subtle pink veil over the sea of green landscape. Especially when the pink tones reflect powerfully in the small pools of brackish water cutoff from the main estuary flow. The pink and the green compliment each other so well rendering a scene made to transfix.

    Getting back into the sunset flow and returning to the basics that brought me this far I set up low on the marsh. Tripod and camera a little more than a foot above sea level, nestled in a patch of eel grass. Once I’m dialed in it is little more than bracket city from there—making exposures and day falls to night. The fire is back and the pace will quicken.

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  • The Turn Around

    The Turn Around

    Pastel color sunset photo over green salt marsh and tide pools.
    The Turn Around — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I am glad I got off the couch. Exhausted, I arrived home from work at 7:00 p.m., turned on the Yankee game and immediately fell asleep. I did at least catch Brett Gardner’s first pitch dinger. Fast forward forty minutes and I woke up on said couch. So began the stay here you’re so warm and cozy versus the no, go out and make a photograph battle.

    The latter won out—and thank goodness. With a quick scramble for suitable clothes, I grabbed my gear and stashed them in the trunk. I made my way east to Cedar Run Dock Road listening The Order of the Phoenix. I cannot get enough of all things Hogwarts these days—albeit more than a decade late.

    Over the next four miles I was oscillating between sunset anticipation and sheer disdain for Dolores Umbridge. Checking the clock obsessively in between to calculate how much time I’d have to set up. I was cutting it close to sunset.

    With a few minutes to spare I was on the marsh and making the most of a quality early simmer pastel sky. Cotton candy coloring overtop a rich green carpet of fresh marsh growth. I am glad I got off the couch.

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  • See You Again

    See You Again

    Pastel sunset photo of salt marsh, sedge, and tide pools.
    See You Again — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Stirrings on the marsh. Signs of life are springing up along Cedar Run Dock Road. Ospreys are back, herons are skulking, and tender sedge is starting to pop through. The great browning has seen its end.

    After a slow start to spring, fresh warmth has made its way to Ocean County, New Jersey, this week. It’s a welcome feeling hitting the marsh in minimal clothing with a warm breeze kissing your face. It’s made all the better when the warm pastels of summertime color the sunset sky.

    My photo output has waned woefully in 2018 and it’s bumming me out. I’m not sure if it’s only a phase or an inauspicious sign of things to come. While I hope I get back on the grind, churning out quality photo content on the regular, there is a growing chorus of doubt in certain corners of my conscious. I can hear the small voice whispering here it is, another hobby ready to drop. We’ll see. Maybe it was just a phase and this is the beginning of a turnaround?

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  • Winter Holds

    Winter Holds

    Blue hour over late winter salt marsh and tide pool.
    Winter Holds — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Things were quiet on the salt marsh tonight. A subtle blue hour affair in our slow march toward spring. While the calendar insists spring starts tomorrow, winter has other ideas. And so here I sit griping about three backloaded winters in a row. Backloaded meaning winters that will—not—end.

    March 2018 has been active with coastal storm after coastal storm. Wreaking havoc with rain, snow, sleet, thunder, lightning, flooding, and power outages. Most of which happened at the same time. This spot I made photos tonight has been underwater quite a bit this month. And now here we are, set to welcome spring with a winter storm watch. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Le sigh.

    Now if you’re thinking, wait a minute, Gregory Hypocrite, I thought you loved snow? Well you’re not wrong. But while I love snow I am not its biggest fan once March hits. I am all about furious rates of maximum dendrite growth from December–February. But once March rolls in, with longer days and all its hopes for spring and summer I am ready to move on dot com. Yet again, as it was in 2016 and 2017, it looks like we are going to have to wait. As it is, winter holds.

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  • Soothing Skies

    Soothing Skies

    Sunset over Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh.
    Soothing Skies — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    We are near on March and this marks only my third sunset photograph of 2018. I could chide myself for slacker ways, but I am taking it easier on myself these days. I am more willing to take things as they come—no need to force issues and ratchet up pressure were there should be none. Thanks to a cooperative sky and my willingness to step away from an A Link to the Past replay I made it to Dock Road in time for sunset action.

    This evening was all about peace and calm. The marsh was sedate. The tide was out. The winds were still, and the air made clean and clear from crisp winter air. The visibility had that extra sharpness that doesn’t come to often. It felt like living in real life HD vision. The recipe made for ideal photo making.

    The heavens brought the finishing touches to a restorative evening. A tack sharp crescent moon cut the sky casting a wry, cheshire smile. Later still Venus took to glowing bright and bold. The evening star lending companionship to the cycling moon waxing through its youth. May these reminders of our small part in a much broader universe never cease carving smiles on my face.

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  • Once Forgotten

    Once Forgotten

    Fiery sunset over winter salt marsh.
    Once Forgotten — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Last month revisiting all my photographs for my 2017 best of list I came across this image in Lightroom. Made on the same February 2017 afternoon as “The Observer” I remembered, oh, I meant to post this picture, too. It was post-processed and everything—fully baked and ready to post. For whatever reason it didn’t happen. The back-burner of forgetfulness won the day. It’s a shame, too, as this is a fine shot. Showcasing sparkling sunset colors and an ensnaring reflection. Better still, it’s composed in a portrait orientation. Which is a fancy way of saying vertical. A composition I little utilize and struggle to execute.

    Of course this has me wondering what other forgotten gems have I buried away in my backlog cache? A trove of photographs that now measures in the tens of thousands. It’s been my wont no to do much looking back on my work—annual retrospectives aside. So maybe it’s time for something new?

    Coda

    The irony is not lost on me that on an evening I made a photograph entitled “The Observer” I made the mistake of overlooking another shot.

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  • A Pearl in Winter

    A Pearl in Winter

    Snowy sunset photo of Antoinetta's Restaurant and a frozen bay.
    A Pearl in Winter — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Antoinetta’s Waterfront Restaurant. My old stomping grounds. Undoubtedly one of my favorite locations to photograph. It holds sway as an idyllic bayside vista. She’s a fine structure worked in a modern Victorian motif. This joy of design stands tall at the east end of Cedar Run Dock Road. A seaside beauty for sure. Oh, and the food is pretty good, too.

    Over the years I have made several photographs of this near exact composition. You can take a look at my Antoinetta’s tag if you are so inclined. In recent years, however, my time spent photographing this spot has lessened. Increased year round hours has this fine eatery packed to the gills on the regular. It would be poor form to prowl around while paying customers sit down to a delicious meal, set to take in delectable sunset views. Besides, all those cars in my frame would prove problematic to good photo making.

    Tonight I had my way. A closed restaurant and the whole area locked in ice. The latter being far more important to my opportunistic photographic sensibilities. I am enthralled with winter weather. Always have been. This is doubly true along my local bayside and marshes. The counterintuitive juxtaposition of ice where sun and warmth should be drives my fascination. The result? I cannot get enough of making this kind of photograph. I like it so much in fact, this shot marks my third take at this composition. Take a look at Winter has its ways and the Never quite the same. The former made in 2014 and the latter in 2015. The choice is yours as far your preference.

    Until next time. Cheers and keep warm.

    Coda

    I did something rather unusual with this post. A last minute change to the photo title. I was all set with The Choice Is Yours but as I was typing out the post description A Pearl in Winter shot through my brain. It struck with a resonance. You know the kind where you whole body syncs to melodious vibrato. Or the feeling you get when you listen to Crosby, Still, Nash & Young. There’s a rhythm and tone that works down your whole spine setting your life in tune. And so the change—a rare change where I most always stick with my gut.

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  • Sand to Snow

    Sand to Snow

    Sunset photo over frozen Barnegat Bay in Harvey Cedars, NJ.
    Sand to Snow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/15

    Harvey Cedars locked in ice. A beach paradise locked and bound in frozen bonds of wind driven snow, ice and unstoppable cold. The arctic has found its way south and wrought with it a landscape better tuned to penguins.

    Trudging through Harvey Cedars Sunset Park I felt myself alternating discomfort and awe. Foremost was the wonderment. I strode incredulous among magnificent shapes carved by the master hand of wind driven snow. Three to six foot mounds of stratified snow dunes in all directions. Features that would look more at home marking the desert sands. The juxtaposition made more striking contrasted against wide swaths of grass and stone blown free of any trace of snow. This is mind-boggling considering the foot plus that dropped up and down the New Jersey coast less than 24 hours ago. As the snow was busying itself building mesmerizing drifts it was leaving whole swathes of park untouched. Never before have my eyes seen its equal.

    Enhancing the displaced winter landscape was the transformation of Barnegat Bay. This familiar waterway left frozen solid and topped with reticulated patterns stretching to the horizon. Any vestige of the summer paradise fell away as it bent the knee before the reign of ice.

    Through my wonder a crippling west wind carrying biting cold air tested my limits. Setting up to shoot headfirst into 20 mph sustained winds posed a threat to exposed skin. Despite my layers and heavy dress I struggled for comfort. In a battle of diminishing returns against a relentless enemy I made a few dozen exposures over span of 45 minutes. I will share one or two more photographs in the coming days. In the meantime I am off to thaw a replay the magic frozen before me.

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  • Another Year Sets

    Another Year Sets

    Pastel winter sunset over dormant salt marsh.
    Another Year Sets — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Hours away from 2018. Time surges. The accelerant of our lives. Time. The hidden force running faster and more elusive than each year to come before. Our grammar school time but a distant memory. A patina etch from the halcyon days where the conquest of the calendar year stood more daunting than Odysseus’ long voyage home. The annual primary school quest that needed parceling into such small chunks that still made weeks feel a feat of strength. A month felt an accomplishment worthy of new construction paper cutouts to mark out each day on the classroom calendar. The marking period quarter pole left us grizzled vets of the mathematics wars. But by year’s end, learned and wizened, came the triumphant return of vacation. The final march off the bus sounding the horn of endless summer. It was over two magical months the youthful burden of time paid off. Endless weeks spanned on forever to our heart’s content. But now when years pass as eye blinks is is our deepening wrinkles and our tired bodies signal the passage of time. Replacing construction paper cutouts with stress, fear and anxiety. W look no farther than our own aging as the clear marker in the unstoppable acceleration of time.

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