Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: snow

  • Winter Turn

    Winter Turn

    14mm winter salt marsh photograph at blue hour. Snow and ice dominate the dormant marsh grasses and tide pools as restorative pastels of pink, blue, and purple paint the whole scene.
    Winter Turn — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Short and quick post this evening. It’s late, been a long day, and I’ve got some maximum couch relaxation to do before calling it Wednesday. First week back at the grind and all that after a much needed end of year break.

    South Jersey saw its first snow Monday. A true South Jersey express. The type of event where the bulk of New Jersey—geographic and raw population—goes about its day without so much as a flake. The southern third of the state saw anywhere from four to 12 inches, with my hometown Manahawkin coming in at about six. It was the perfect end to my two weeks off. I am, if nothing else, a certifiable snow lover, and therefor I am pleased.

    Fast forward to yesterday evening (Tuesday), and I made my way out to see what was doing on the Dock Road salt marsh. I lucked out. The snow and ice formations spanned out to the horizon, with even the tide pools icing over. It’s been a few years since I had this look. As sunset moved into blue hour, the colors painted over pure relaxation atop the wintry scene. It was a long slow burner, too, with this set of seven brackets coming some 25 minutes after sundown. The lesson, folks: Don’t pack up and leave immediately after sunset. More often than not the real goods take time.

    Lucky me, more snow is in the forecast for Thursday overnight into Friday. Another quick hitter event with South Jersey set in the cross hairs. It’s January and that means little more to do than sit back and take in the winter turn in stride.

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  • The Winter Narrative

    The Winter Narrative

    100mm macro photo of a Hemlock tree pine cone hanging from snow covered pine boughs.
    The Winter Narrative — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/640

    The calendar flips March and 2019 has supplied scarcity for New Jersey snow lovers. Several nickel and dime events, sure, but not the mother lode that leaves us ditching rulers for yardsticks. Jim Cantore has monster measurements to make out west this year. This is the ebb and flow nature of winter in the Mid-Atlantic. Boom seasons sprinkled in typical years of bust.

    Yet recency bias dominates the narrative. Social media is rife with it doesn’t snow like it used to claims, and while I share the frustration it is not true. Consistent, big snow is not the norm. Take the dry years that carried us from the 80s through the early 2000s where the foot plus storms could not add up enough fingers to make a full hand. You had 1993, 1996, and 2003. I remember a big event in 1987 or 88—the first primetime snow storm I remember—when I was a kid in East Brunswick, but I am not sure that cracked a foot. After that, however, the boom time set in. Dispersed between down years (not unlike this one) you had 2007, multiple foot plus events in winter 2009-2010 and 2010-2011. 2012 and 2013 were a total roast fest but then more big time action came in 2014, 2015, 2017, and 2018; much of which documented by this photographer. New Jersey snow lovers have had it made. A regression to the mean is probable.

    None of this is to say I am not bummed. I love snow; it can never snow enough. But considering our low latitude—the 40th parallel—that has us due west of Portugal, mind you, many variables must come together to produce big snow. This casual rant is a simple reminder to fellow NJ snow lovers to appreciate our big storms since we never know when we will bust out the yardsticks next.

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  • When Winter Comes

    When Winter Comes

    14mm winter sunset photo made over frozen and snowy salt marsh.
    When Winter Comes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    The onset of winter has me inspired. After a subpar shooting season in 2018, leave it to a modest snowfall to turn the tide. First came the photo I made at Stafford Forge—an inspired output that pleased the residents of your favorite social media platform. Two days later, when a fine splash of color made an appearance over the familiar expanse of Dock Road marsh, I was there, and I was ready. A calming sight—the serene scene. Ice creeping in atop staid tide pools, snow pack propping up marsh grass, and sublime pastels coloring the sky with a master’s touch.

    I had great company, too. My girlfriend’s two year old daughter made the trip with me. An excellent co-pilot if there ever was one. We hung out roadside taking in the bracing air and pretty pinks in an understated bonding moment. I even had her pop off a few shots of her own, hoping to bring joy to the next generation of photographers. It’s remarkable, really, the intensity and focus an untarnished brain brings to new encounters. I’m not sure where we lose that capacity as adults, but we are no doubt poorer for it. Oh for the wisdom of babes.

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  • A Window to Winter

    A Window to Winter

    Square format 14mm photo of fresh snow atop pine trees at sunset.
    A Window to Winter — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Somehow I made it through the entirety of 2018 without making a single photo trip to Stafford Forge. I know it was a down year for photo output, but sheesh. At least I am checking it off my list early in 2019, am I right? With fresh mid-January snowfall it was the perfect destination to capture the final light of day.

    The pines were magical. Cotton ball snow resting easy atop pine boughs as far as the eye could see. Fresh powder and a last gasp of golden pink light set a dramatic stage. More than the photography it was invigorating to stand outside in crisp, bracing air; taking in the unmistakable air of fresh fallen snow. There’s nothing quite like it. A true tonic for the soul.

    I was out shooting and catching up with Jonathan Carr—who turned 39 today, happy birthday, man—and we couldn’t help note how similar the whole tableau was to March 2015. A similar snow fell across the region and the skies broke right in time for a power play golden hour into sunset. I made three great shots that day, and you can seem them here, here, and here. That kind of setup never gets old, and I will take more of that, please.

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  • Four Seasons

    Four Seasons

    Tiger lily sprouts surrounded by snow and oak leaves.
    Four Seasons — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50

    New Jersey is welcoming spring with a fresh coating of snow, sleet, and ice. The weather is suboptimal for anyone other than the most ardent of winter lovers. This simple photograph sums up the disjointed situation best. Winter, spring, summer, and fall in one head scratching tableau. We’ve got tiger lilies pushing up the greenery calling us to spring and summer. An old, spotted oak life carries us back to fall. This all set upon a fresh blanket of snow and ice anchoring us to a wintry fate refusing to ebb. It’s all here, an entire year in a single 35mm camera frame.

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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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  • Streetlight Delight

    Streetlight Delight

    Low key black and white photo of heavy snow lit by streetlight.
    Streetlight Delight — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 1600 | EXP 1/125

    A boy’s fascination runs deep. For as long as I can remember streetlight worship of steady snowfall has been a most welcomed seasonal companion. Growing up obsessed with snow I would eagerly strike days from the calendar in anticipation of winter weather. Winter was magic, and snow the tangible proof. Countless hours I’ve spent whiling away watching snowfall from any window that would have me. The daylight hours afforded easy, unobstructed viewing of my favorite weather. Come night fall, however, the snow scaled back to a more demure display. Hidden by darkness only in streetlight could I once again lay reassured eyes upon the flakes.

    And so I would watch for hours on end, eyes focused sharply between finger wide gaps in the window blinds. No curtain was safe, no window dressing untouched as I bounced from window to window, streetlight to streetlight, maintaining an ever watchful eye on the falling snow. Mixed with the sense of wonder, small fits of worry would work in as I’d fret over the snow letting up. Inevitability taught me early what is good must always end, and so I took to my post with purpose in hopes to maximize as much snowfall watching as possible. Sensible adults would often chime in with raised brows noting I’d grow out of this first love with age and responsibility. Wait until you have to drive in it, they said. Wait until you have to shovel it, they said. First came the shoveling responsibilities, and I loved it—still do. Then came the driving responsibilities, and I loved it—still do. I suppose Miss Snowfall is a keeper, fickle as she may be.

    All these memories came flooding back last night as I walked under the streetlight amidst a snow globe style snow squall. For 20 minutes my hometown was transformed into a convective array of heavy snowfall. Precipitation moved in and out just as a warm summer storm, but for a few minutes at least I was kid again standing tall at all those windowsills.

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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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