Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: salt marsh

  • Flip Side

    Flip Side

    HDR sunset photograph looking sublime over the salt marsh.
    Flip Side — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Baby, I’m a marsh man. I’m a marsh man, baby. This summer has shown off some scintillating moments out on the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh. I haven’t been there to capture all of them, but damn, I’ve managed to make the most of a quite a few—I’m not just talking photographs here, either. An idyllic amalgam of mild temperatures, a steady sea breeze wafting with it the unmistakable salt air that kisses your olfactory just so. Ahhhh… Then there’s the seabirds singing, the terrapin turtles crossing, and of course, the light show nature puts on as day transitions into night, painting cotton candy clouds with the unmistakable brushstrokes from the masterful hands of the ultimate artist. It’s pretty much perfect, you guys.

    Wednesday, July 20, just so happened to be one of those nights. It all came together. Yeah, the green heads were there doing their green head thing, too, but for whatever reason they seem so spare me the worst of their attention. I tell ya, I can’t even attract a fly. Anyway, instead of my usual southwest post-up along the roadside, I hopped over the north side guardrail, into the rock bed, and got low for a north-by-northwest exposure. Having done this sunset things a few times now, I have a good sense when the flip side from the conventional sunset orientation will light up with plenty of pastel drama. This is great, too, as it affords me the opportunity to use the oxbow lake feature that forms as the estuary meanders around the marsh section you see featured in the middle ground. Couple this with a foreground of marsh grasses and you invite the viewer to come on in to a sublime summer sunset scene.

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  • When I Think of Summer

    When I Think of Summer

    HDR sunset photograph featuring cirrus clouds colored in rich pastels over vivid green salt marsh.
    When I Think of Summer — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I’m on record as being firmly in the sunsets are better in winter camp. And while I’m not backing down from that claim, I cannot deny that when all the pieces come together for a summer sunset the results are damn near impossible to beat. After all, one thing you will not get here in the mid-Atlantic come winter time is lush green marsh grass to compliment a sublime sunset—no matter how vivid the sky lights up. The best you can hope for is some quality ice flows, or some other appealing foreground to mask the unmistakable look of the great browning.

    Last night I was hemming and hawing about whether to shoot; I’m sure glad the manifestation of motivation won out. What initially looked like a decent to slightly above average sunset steadily ascended the sunset potential charts. Cirrus clouds built in across the sky, and some 20 minutes before sunset I knew I was standing at the doorstep of a good one. Come on in, nature was calling. Of course the green heads were calling to, but I did my best to avoid the sharp bite of our most fierce winged foe. A few well timed hand slaps went a long way, too. Sorry, not sorry, flies.

    Before long the great sun disk dipped below the horizon and the pastels began to build. Pink and purple hues first began stretching from east to west steadily arcing over the sky; they were well met by orange and yellow hues pulsing to the west were only minutes before the sun went down. About 10 minutes after official sundown this colorful cascade merged in perfect harmony backed by azure blue skies. What a scene. My best sunset capture since May.

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  • Dead Calm

    Dead Calm

    Sunset photograph of dead calm conditions highlighting vibrant green marsh grass just after sunset.
    Dead Calm — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    There’s just something about marsh grass in early summer. A most perfect union of growth and green infused with all the promise and potency of life. Even in the face of a sterling sunset it was the marsh grass that captured my wonder. Conditions were wonderful this past Saturday, and I’m grateful I was perfectly situated along Great Bay Boulevard to take it all in. Sure the no-see-ums dined a great feast upon my bare shins—still sporting dozens of bites some five days later—but my gaze was undeterred. Content to be in the moment, it was going to take more than a frenzy of pint sized buggers making a meal of my blood to break my attention.

    Scanning back and forth across an endless array of bright green grasses the fluidity of life rose to the fore. As the seasons change so too does the marsh. It is at this moment, however, in the hopes and dreams of early summer that we sit at its peak. The moment when new life teems at the pinnacle of its cycle. Despite our best efforts this moment won’t last forever, and admittedly it’s hard to not fret over the inevitable aging and loss to come. Of course change is inevitable, and as the wheel rolls on life too will return anew.

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  • Not Today

    Not Today

    HDR photograph of a summer sunset over the Great Bay Boulevard salt marsh.
    Not Today — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Last week was rough. One for the memory banks. I will spare this space the details, but I will say things are looking up. Finally back on my feet, a rejuvenation elixir came by way of Great Bay Boulevard where I was out making photographs Saturday evening. Sunset was glorious—birds singing, marsh grass gently swaying in the dying breeze. Bait fish were boiling pockets of otherwise calm water providing an easy meal for the litany of seabirds that make the marsh their summer home. Families were out fishing together as young jet skiers plied their craft. I even took a moment to help out a new shooter with some camera tips to help her on her photo journey. It’s good to give back. It’s good to take it all in. The photographs were just icing on the cake. I struggle with being grateful. Perhaps this is a start.

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  • Max Relax

    Max Relax

    HDR sunset photo of a pastel sunset sky over a green marsh
    Max Relax — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Between the hour of 7:20 p.m–8:20 p.m. Cedar Run Dock Road was the unequivocal place to be for denizens of southern Ocean County. Conditions were perfect. I’m talking A+. 10 out of 10. Would do again. And folks, I’m not even talking about the sunset. It was one of those salt marsh nights you’re more than like to read about it a book. An evening that comes around maybe a handful of times per year. Room temperature conditions with zero wind, fully absent humidity; bugs nowhere to be found; crips, clear golden light pouring over the emerald green sedge grasses; with migratory birds making way with their evening meal. Pure perfection. Maximum relaxation achievement unlocked. That sunset? While beautiful and serene in its own right was little more than icing on the cake.

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  • All Too Familiar

    All Too Familiar

    Wide angle landscape photograph of ominous storm clouds rolling over a lush green salt marsh
    All Too Familiar — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/80

    Hey, New Jersey! Maybe you’ve noticed it’s been raining? Or maybe you live under a rock? In which case you’ve more than likely been claimed by the Drowned God. It’s been over a week now and it seems to be the only weather we know. This photo is actually a throwback to April 26 when a pattern flipping cold front powered through the mid-Atlantic bringing strong storms and powerful straight line winds to the region. Since that day it seems we’ve been in omega block city—only we’ve been on the wrong side of said block. The cold, wet, raw side. Not exactly the pattern anyone wants in late-April, early-May. Unless of course a sea of endless grey is your thing. While it looks as though a few breaks in the clouds may appear over the next couple days, it seems we’re heading right back into the soup for much of next week. To modify the cliché, April flowers bring grey skies to May that never end. Welcome to Ireland, New Jersey.

    Heh, fittingly enough Jerry Garcia & David Grisman’s “Dreadful Wind And Rain” just randomly queued up on my iTunes as I finished paragraph one. If I could go back and do it all over again, I think that’s what I should have titled this shot. Alas, hooray for a fitting coincidence. Now where is that blasted Sun?

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  • Spring Marsh

    Spring Marsh

    Wide angle landscape sunset photo revealing spring's return to the marsh with the greening sedge
    Spring Marsh — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I made my way to Cedar Run Dock Road Sunday evening. While I wasn’t greeted with the exact sunset I was hoping for, I was welcomed with surefire signs of Spring. Ospreys perched on their platform; various seabirds I cannot identify—an ornithologist I am not—plucking out easy meals in the friendly confines of harbored tide pools; and sparks of green signaling the sedge grass’ return to life. A sight for sore eyes all after months enduring the Great Browning. From here on out conditions on the marsh should only get better. The sedge will grow and thrive, providing ample cover for productive marsh habitat simultaneously becoming more picturesque. Before long tall waving grasses colored in deep rich greens will fill our foreground and middle ground. Good times.

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  • Run Out the Tide

    Run Out the Tide

    Golden hour photo of dead low tide at the Great Bay Boulevard salt marsh
    Run Out the Tide — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Friday evening, about 20 minutes before I made this, some primetime golden hour light was pouring over the salt marsh along Great Bay Boulevard. Better yet, the clouds were decent with the tide dead low and dead calm. All signs point to decent photo making when these conditions are met.

    Compositionally my goal was to key off the remnant bulkheads—the roughly 1 foot in diameter stumps of wood you see aligned at an angle about the foreground—while conveying the extent of the dead low tide. To do this I kept my tripod higher than usual, putting the camera body about 5 feet off the ground, giving me enough angle on the marsh. More often than not I tend to get low and close when shooting wide angle—this makes closer objects appear more dramatic (re: large), but limits your ability to push the viewers eye depth further out toward the horizon. In other words, if I was crunched down here as usual, the tidal exposed marsh and the still water to its right would appear as much thinner strips. However, the bulkheads would be given much more visual weight. These are the kinds of decisions you have to make when you approach a scene. What am I trying to convey? And then, perhaps more importantly, what concessions do I have to make to achieve said conveyance? This is where I cannot advocate trail and error experimentation enough in an era of digital.

    But it’s not all faeries and roses here. Due to the extreme angle I placed the sun—setting it to the outer sixth of the frame—chromatic aberration and lens flare marks the horizon from right to left in several spots. While I’m not sure if it’s a bad thing, I’m fairly certain it’s not a good thing. Ultimately I will leave this up to the subjectivity of the viewer. At the very least I should concede this effect was not intentional.

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  • Machinations of a Pastel Sky

    Machinations of a Pastel Sky

    Landscape photograph of pastel clouds over marsh at sunset
    Machinations of a Pastel Sky — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    For southeast New Jersey peeps a vantage to the north and east had it going on at sunset last night. Bailing on the traditional west by southwest exposure at sundown—which had nothing doing but clear skies—I did a 180 and posted up on the north side of Dock Road. A whole 20 foot walk from my usual spot. Whew! From there I let nature do the work. Admittedly I had a bit of trouble centering on the turning waterway while keep some rouge elements of the guardrail out of the foreground. With a little fiddling of tripod height adjustments I made it work. After that it was all just pushing buttons.

    Heading into yesterday’s shoot on what was 4 March, I had been in a bit of a dry spell. I hadn’t been out doing the photo thing since 16 February, when coincidentally another striking east facing sunset took shape. Landscape photography is full of peaks and valleys; hot streaks and dry spells. When you’re at the mercy of weather, timing, and real life responsibilities, opportunities to shoot come and go. As tedious as it may become at the tail end of an extended hiatus, the reward of a steady supply of great light makes the wait bearable. If nothing else photography is a lesson in control—insofar as we ain’t gonna have it.

    In other photography news: I picked up a long overdue 35mm lens yesterday. Fifth Prime I’m calling it as it joins my 14mm, 40mm, 50mm, and 100mm as the fifth prime lens in my bag. I’m excited to see what new opportunities this long coveted piece of glass affords me. I’m even thinking of dabbling in some people photography with this at my side—it will be interesting to see if this actually materializes.

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