As a macro photographer, I drop everything for a moment like this. When a brief but gentle rain has just ended. The sun is trying to peek through clouds. Leaves have started drifting down from nearby trees already starting to change color.
Nature sparkles outside my window.
Out the back door and down the stairs I go.
Although partially hidden from view, I catch a glimpse of red as I (almost) walk by an evergreen tree. I bend in between the branches, careful not to dislodge my discovery…a perfectly balanced leaf.
The sun plays hide and seek as I wait and focus…repeatedly clicking the shutter until the millisecond moment when light, color and shadow…hopefully…merge.
Once in a while – with a bit of luck and cooperation from Mother Nature (who is, after all, the one really in charge here) – I am rewarded with my favorite kind of photograph.
We are in the middle of a severe drought here in the northeast USA and nobody complains when dark clouds appear in the sky.
Mother Nature was kind enough to grace us with a brief period of rain one morning last week. The leaves are falling faster than usual and one landed on the back stairs in time for a photo. The wind picked up and within minutes it was gone.
Yesterday I visited a local apple, peach and lots of other fruit orchard. It also featured a socially distant Harvest Festival of sorts. By the time we arrived, however, it was late afternoon – which for me – is perfect camera time.
Behind the buildings selling fruits, local vegetables and their specialty – apple cider donuts – was a huge field of sunflowers. It looked like a convention of yellow…everyone slouching and trying to pay attention.
The sunflowers struggled to lift their faces to the sun. Their drooping leaves and browning petals evidence of the area’s severe drought.
However, as with anything…there are always exceptions…and I did discover a sunflower rising a bit above the rest. Its face backlit and lifted.
I discovered these sweet little wildflowers yesterday on a walk along the local river. The chain link fence always provides an interesting backdrop to flower escapees as I like to call them. Flowers and vines and such that Will Not Be Contained.
Mmm. Maybe too much projection going on, but I call it as I see it.
My husband, aka the sometimes expert in residence, (whose father’s business was hunting, collecting and selling wildflowers worldwide) declared I think Dad called these flowers “Butter and Eggs.”
I recently discovered a multi-generational family of leaves…all coexisting quite nicely. The senior leaf, age spots and all, appeared to be going strong as it generously showcased the younger flashier leaflets.
I’m sure they all have much to learn from each other.