Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: pollinators

  • The Way of Walking Alone

    The Way of Walking Alone

    100mm macro photo of a dutiful bumblebee collecting pollen atop a fresh daisy blossom. The image is cross processed to give it a more moody tone.
    The Way of Walking Alone — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1000

    Or The Way of Self-Reliance (Dokkōdō).

    I’ve started listening William Scott Wilson’s translation of Miyamoto Musashi’s The Book of Five Rings on Audible. As something of a budding Japanophile, and a person long into all things history, the study of The Way and Samurai culture rings true to my soul as a monk’s bell meditatively struck in morning. In the forward, Wilson translates the final lesson handed down from Mushashi to his disciples: 21 precepts outlining The Way of Walking Alone. The teachings of Japan’s sword-saint are open to us all, and I thought I’d share a bit here.

    • Do not turn your back on the various Ways of this world.
    • Do not scheme for physical pleasure.
    • Do not intend to rely on anything.
    • Consider yourself lightly; consider the world deeply.
    • Do not ever think in acquisitive terms.
    • Do not regret things about your own personal life.
    • Do not envy another’s good or evil.
    • Do not lament parting on any road whatsoever.
    • Do not complain or feel bitterly about yourself or others.
    • Have no heart for approaching the path of love.
    • Do not have preferences.
    • Do not harbor hopes for your own personal home.
    • Do not have a liking for delicious food for yourself.
    • Do not carry antiques handed down from generation to generation.
    • Do not fast so that it affects you physically.
    • While it’s different with military equipment, do not be fond of material things.
    • While on the Way, do not begrudge death.
    • Do not be intent on possessing valuables or a fief in old age.
    • Respect the gods and Buddhas, but do not depend on them.
    • Though you give up your life, do not give up your honor.
    • Never depart from the Way of the Martial Arts.

    Second Day of the Fifth Month, Second Year of Shoho [1645]
    —Shinmen Musashi

    Shout-out to Digital Dao for providing the online text as I did not transcribe this from the audio text.

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  • Peony Leisure

    Peony Leisure

    35mm portrait orientation photo of a single bright pink peony blossom. Shallow depth of field and smooth bokeh frame out a pollinating insect flying to the flower.
    Peony Leisure — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250

    may peonies spring
    bright puffs to float you away
    to the home right here

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  • Working Class Hero

    Working Class Hero

    100mm low key macro photo of a single honey bee pollinating purple coneflower pistils. A strong single light source creates stark contrast of highlights and shadows. A deep blue monochrome treatment drives a dark, serious mood.
    Working Class Hero — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250

    Dutiful honey bee plying her trade. Drinking her nectar and loading her pollen basket, she works with intent. With energy and purpose she minds her craft. Even alone the hive is on the mind. Her community needs her; needs her singular focus to feed and to provide. To sustain the group. Bounding atop pistils by day, she works the land spending hours at the harvest. Undaunted she holds fast to her task. Mindfulness dams distraction. Even the focused lens of the observer matter little to our indefatigable worker bee. She need not pay us any mind—she strives for the hive.

    As ever, thank you, John Lennon, for enriching our lives with joy. Thanks for your classic song connecting to this lyrically inspired photo. A working class hero is something to be(e).

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  • The Technician

    The Technician

    100mm high key macro photograph of a honey bee feeding and pollinating a purple coneflower blossom.
    The Technician — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160

    Photo making is a task I invest significant time. 2020 marks year nine in my photography journey, and what an unexpected trip it has been. Beginning as a desperate distraction from depression, it has morphed into a real passion spanning the better part of a decade. I look back and ask myself what has changed since such a somber beginning? How has my perception shifted since my early days as a lost soon-to-be 30 year old with little clue how to use a camera?

    For years I thought of myself as a technician. An individual proficient in making appealing photographs. Something of a process driven camera operator churning out landscape and nature photos per the rules. Viewing myself as a proper photographer, let alone creator, took many years of inner wrangling. I was a guy who followed procedure and protocols to produce a good clean image. There was nothing more to it. Follow steps one, two, and three, and a good photo you will be. As ever labels and semantics tripped me up, and I refused to think of myself as something more than a well trained individual who executes a task list. Anyone can do this, and creativity is no factor.

    This view, pedantic and self-limiting, was a silly exercise. Over time I eased up on these pointless restrictions. Why put myself in a box? Or the better question, why exclude myself from other boxes? It’s foolish. After several years I grew inured to the photographer label. Being called a photographer didn’t leave me vexed and uncomfortable, with a furrowed brow looking over my shoulder for someone else with a camera . We must accept what is.

    Fast forward to the past few years, and I finding growing comfort traipsing into creator territory. Might I be creative? That’s all cool and artsy sounding, so can it be true of a self-professed technician? Here I submit my writing as evidence. Even though my clear renown, such as it is, is as a photographer, it is my writing that brings the most intrinsic joy. This creative act is far less natural to me than making photographs. There is no technical process for me to follow. No clear roadmap for success. This is a wholly feel-based enterprise, and I am certain that leaves learned readers with a proper taste for grammar cringing.

    English class was not my thing as a youngster, and this remained the case throughout high school and college. I showed neither promise nor interest in writing. And yet, for the past few years, it is far and away my favorite form of personal creative expression. The words I write to accompany each photograph I share means more to me than any photo I make. Do not get me wrong, it feels great to have a photo meet with broad community appeal. Those likes, shares, and thumbs up feel good! But nothing pleases me more than a person talking about what I wrote. This praise removed the technician from the uncomfortable box he placed himself in. So allow me a giant thank you to every one of you who takes time to read and resonate with my words. Your time and attention is a gift amidst this tripped up world, and I thank you all.

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  • The Collector

    The Collector

    100mm square format macro photo of a honey bee pollenating a Black-eyed Susan flower blossom.
    The Collector — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/125

    Honey bees! Working, buzzing, collecting. Pollen clinging and clumping in large, impressive blobs stuck about their legs. Dutiful, the bees worked over one flower head after another, nonstop in their quest for pollen. They did not seem to mind my presence much, either. Showing no ill will toward my camera intrusion. Though getting tack sharp focus was not the easiest considering they never slow nor settle.

    But seriously, I cannot believe I have honey bees. There must have been dozens milling about the flowers strewn about my property. I never remember seeing this many honey bees in an entire season, let alone on a single day, and I have been photographic my yard extensively since 2012. My little black and yellow buds were doing their best work on my other little black and yellow buds, my Black-eyed Susan blossoms. It was awesome to watch.

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  • Identify Yourself

    Identify Yourself

    Macro photo of a carpenter bee collecting wisteria pollen.
    Identify Yourself — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/640

    My brain gets the best of me. Often I wrap myself sideways in details that stand meaningless to most. Mired in Minutia: A Greg Molyneux Memoir. Case in point, I present this photograph. I’ve been scrutinizing Google images for days, sweating over proper bee identification. Is it a bumblebee? A carpenter bee? A rusty patched bumblebee? Which until yesterday I knew nothing about; bombus affinis is one cool species name, though. Or is it some other bee I don’t even know about? Ah yes, the endless fretting of a runaway mind.

    Taxed and unable to commit I sent a photo of my photo to Ben Wurst today. South Jersey’s Captain Planet, Ben’s the clear choice for local wildlife identification. Almost immediately Ben confirmed my suspicion. Declaring this here bee of the carpenter kind. Whew! Are you tired from this tedium, too?

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  • Stage Left

    Stage Left

    Macro photograph of a blue bottle fly atop a daisy petal.
    Stage Left — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/640

    Time is weird, man. While I feel mired in quicksand, struggling to move in chronic slow motion I am juxtaposed by the fast moving reality that it’s July. In 2016. Or so I’m told. Somehow, somewhere, I’m still stuck in April 2006, but hey? Any Multiverse theorists want to take this on? So here I sit watching Nintendo Voice Chat pounding out a post on my computer one evening removed from the Fourth of July—my favorite holiday by the way. Even though overcast skies and incoming rain may put a damper on tomorrow’s firework festivities, I’ll embrace the fact the calendar is turned to the month added in honor of Julius Caesar. We’ve reached high summer—the Saturday of summer—as much as it doesn’t feel like it.

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  • Let’s Pollinate

    Let’s Pollinate

    Macro photograph of a blue bottle fly pollinating a daisy blossom
    Let’s Pollinate — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    With summer in full swing it’s high time to get back to my macro roots. In the front yard fresh daisies are in bloom affording the perfect opportunity to return to some good old fashion handheld camera fun. Macro work is a chance to get back to basics—a chance to ditch the tripod, ditch the bracketing, ditch the timer, ditch the routine to make some old school point and click shots. The other day a blue bottle fly came to visit, pollinating away on the fresh blossoms. Not easily scared the fly was more than willing to let me get up close and personal with my 100mm lens; these shots were made at a distance of roughly 12 inches from my subject—allowing me to bring the viewer right into the frame. Now I have to admit, shooting macro far less frequently these days I’m a little rusty, but I still made off with a few decent exposures. Practice, yo—I hear it makes perfect. More to come.

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  • Beeswax, are you minding it?

    In this macro photograph a carpenter bee is captured from behind as it pollinates a quick fire hydrangea, basking in golden hour light.
    Beeswax, are you minding it? — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/250

    This shot is a holdover from this past Sunday. I spent a good half hour stalking my quick fire hydrangea as it lay awash in rich golden light and carpenter bees. Despite the abundance of airborne insects doing their pollinating thing it what seemed like fast forward, I couldn’t get a single carpenter bee to stop let alone face toward me. Left with just the business end of the abdomen, I’m still happy with the result.