Winter Wheat

 

2009

Yesterday I received an e-mail from a nice lady who stumbled upon my meager blog.  Googling "Winter Wheat" she'd found The Giraffe Head Tree.

 2009

 She was putting together a program for her church and wanted to use one of the images.  Why, of course, I said. 

2009

Please send me one for my portfolio, I asked, and she thought that funny.  It is funny, really. 

2010

This exchange whetted my appetite for those images again so I looked high and low, finally finding them on my stand-alone hard drive.  Neatly archived away.  Out of sight.  Out of mind.  Until this nice lady's e-mail. 

2010

Why do I do that?  Hide my images away?  Visiting these images brought back some fabulous memories.  More than that I really, really like them.  This is the same wheat field, two years in a row. 

2010

May 2009 I shot them in bright afternoon daylight, a coming storm looming on the horizon.  Bright blue skies being gobbled up by bright white and grey clouds; golden wheat swaying in the wind.  May 2010 I rose before dawn and drove to the field awaiting the sunrise.  A gentle fog and rosy light made these my favorite images of all.  What do you do with your favorite nature images, and what is your preferred method for a portfolio for your work?  I'm really curious as clearly I'm horrid at both.

Nesting

A pair of House Finches raised their four babies in my hanging fern. The babies have hatched and flown away but the sweet nest remains, albeit a little worse for wear. Mostly, we used the garage entrance while they were raising the family. Watering the ferns would panic them and they would fly to a nearby tree, nervously chattering among themselves. Over time they grew used to my presence. I miss listening to mom and dad and the peeping of the babies.

I am finding this area houses a great many songbirds due to the dense tree cover and the drainage creek that flows behind the house. A Yellow Breasted Chat - which I've never seen before and was only vaguely familiar with - collided with my sliding glass door last week. I hear many warblers and sparrow varieties, along with thrasher and thrush and others. The Eastern Towhee family are constant companions. Cedar Waxwings trill non-stop, and there are many bird songs I have yet to identify. It's a constant source of amazement, the music that plays outside day and night.

Down the road in a drainage creek lives a rather large snapping turtle. Rabbits, chipmunks and squirrels keep me entertained. Smaller hawks surprise me from time to time. I've heard owls but not seen them, seen bats but not heard them. The presence of so much wildlife is comforting to me.

Spiritual Sunday

Wheeler Lake
July 2003

"I thank you God for this most amazing day,

for the leaping greenly spirits of trees,

and for the blue dream of sky

and for everything which is natural,

which is infinite,

which is yes."

e.e. cummings

Black Butterflies, Take 2,

The lantana and asters really know how to attract the butterflies. By July our sidewalk will be so thick with butterflies that traffic literally stops to watch them. Actually, they're usually watching me taking photos of them. "What are you taking pictures of?" Some stop their car and walk up to watch and I enjoy telling them about the plants and helping them identify each colorful flutterby. Well, those I can ID myself anyway. The black ones are a challenge, as I've already stated. Here are a few photos to show you what I mean. Feel free to ID them for me - we'll compare notes and see how off I am in my research.

I've been catching up on John's blog at Born Again Birdwatcher today. His series of posts about Japanese Gardens is food for thought, and his photos are exquisite. Reading these posts and immersing myself into each photograph I could feel my shoulders relax and I felt calmed. Nature in all her forms is critical to our well being. Butterflies have their scientific purpose of pollination, but their unscientific purpose is simply to bring JOY to the world. Gardens invite us to stop and feel, really feel, the world. And no garden would be complete without butterflies.

Sunday Night

Storms brewing to the west at sunset enthralled us with a theater of cloud formations. Boiling, racing, brewing, ever changing charcoal mountains with gleaming white and silver accents. Rays of sunshine framed appendages of feathering puffs. The odd rainbow effect of refracted light would shift with the winds, which whipped the clouds into odd formations.

Powerful visions such as these humble me into silence as I ponder just how small I am.

Nature can paint a picture like no other.

Truly spectacular.

There are no words for these miracles.

To the east, the clouds were beginning to cover the rising moon.
An hour later it was dark and the rains came in torrents.

Brief Hiatus

Hi gang. I'll be taking a brief hiatus from blogging while attending to a family member's needs after surgery. Fortunately, my trip will include my beloved state of Arizona but it's doubtful I'll have time go to travel about and shoot cool images. I'll post when I can, but in the meantime please enjoy this photo I took at Wheeler Wildlife Refuge and a quote from one of my favorite naturalist.

I'll Be Back sometime after the 20th of January. (that's a promise, not a threat - LOL!) Be good, be safe, be creative and loving. I will miss you all.

October 29, 2008

My bestest buddy Carroll took me off into the wilderness Thursday. We'd read many of the Looper's blogs and some boaters mentioned following the American White Pelicans southward along their journey. On this day I got my new camera body - a Canon 40D - so we thought we'd see if we could spot some white pelicans at the dam.

We arrived to a very windy, choppy lake below the dam. Fishing boats were rocking in high waves. Fishermen struggled to keep their balance as they threw their lines out into the chop. The Great Blue Herons were having a convention and we spotted a couple of cormorants and coots, but not one white pelican. We know of a trail through the brush that sometimes reveals "pelican island" when most of the leaves are gone. We give it a shot, but no pelicans. Obviously, they're not here yet.
Walking back along the trail we spot some beautiful berrying vines draping the trees like holiday garland. The glorious Virginia Creeper was in full autumnal glory with its deep, garnet red leaves and blue-black berries with red stems. This is one of my all time favorite vines.

This particular area is listed in the North Alabama Birding Trail and it's easy to see why birds of all manner are attracted here. There are high limestone cliffs upon which eagles and osprey perch watching for fishes. Herons and ducks and cormorants and loons and coots and all manner of water fowl are here as well for the great fishing. Songbirds twitter high in these trees thanks to the abundance of food and shelter. These Virginia Creeper berries won't be here long.

Several species of Sphinx moths rely on Virginia Creeper as host plant, and a variety of bees are attracted to the nectar and pollen.

Virginia Creeper is not poisonous but does tend to tangle in the wild with Poison Ivy, which you can see in the photo above. Poison Ivy has three leaves whereas Virginia Creeper has five. Poison Oak doesn't grow in North Alabama (so say the experts), plus it has whiteish berries, so if you see a five-leafed vine with blue/black berries in the wild it is Virginia Creeper. We also saw a brilliant red-berried vine with which we were unfamiliar. After consulting with our local Botanical Garden director we now know what it is. That'll be the next post.

For me, I love the autumn color of this vine and think it's fall finery makes for some pretty shots. So...what do you think? Are these photos clearer than my 20D photos? I wanted more resolution and the 40D is 10 pixels versus the 20D's 8 pixels. The 40D has lots of new tricks I've yet to learn, and I can't wait to play with it more. (...fair warning)

October 15, 2008

This past week was exceptional in regards to sunrises and sunsets. Wednesday morning was the first where I was able to rise before dawn, ready for the show. This peach sunrise was soft and sweet and chilly, which set the stage for a lovely walk with Baylee after coffee. The Giraffe Head Tree seemed to be enjoying the view as much as me. This inspired me to once again rise before dawn for walking, despite the odd ambling armadillos and sneaky feral cats that make Baylee try to remove my right arm from its socket as she bolts for a chase.

So, Friday morning I woke unbidden at 5am and knew it was the day for a pre-dawn walk. Saddling up Baylee, clean-up bags in hand, I donned a jacket and stole out the front door heading for the marina. My idea was to stay on the main road, which is level and well lighted, and keep my hand on the leash loose in case Baylee darts after some hapless creature.

The eastern sky was just beginning to change to rose when we crossed into the next phase of the neighborhood. Suddenly, up ahead about 50 yards I see something standing in the roadway watching our approach. I stop, Baylee stops, the world stops. The night is perfectly quiet as we all wonder what to do. The creature makes the first move. Oh great, I think, it's a cat as the small, furry creature begins scurrying toward the common area. No, not a cat but perhaps a small dog. No, not a dog...a coyote? No, too small. It's a fox. A red fox. Small, so it must be a female or a young fox. As she continues her rapid pace down the roadway Baylee and I continue to simply watch her. She ducks out of sight behind some garages and though we cannot see her we can discern her progress by the sound of barking dogs.

When we first moved to the lake a pair of red foxes were frequent visitors. One foggy morning I was standing on our deck and watched as the male padded down to our lower deck. Red foxes are so beautiful, and these were a well-behaved couple. As the neighborhood grew the foxes retreated more into the forest so I was amazed to see one visiting last week. Obviously, they haven't gone away at all but simply choose their visits at an earlier hour. My friend Carroll was alarmed by the sighting. "What if that fox had rabies?!!!??" I was touched by her concern for my safety. But still...

Yes, foxes can carry rabies but so can the ubiquitous raccoons. The bumbling armadillos carry leprosy, and the squirrels have fleas. So what. We chose to live among nature here, and every sighting is cause for celebration. The neighborhood here has its problems, but every negative is countered by the vast amount of wildlife we are privileged to observe, every breathtaking sunrise and sunset upon the lake, the very wildness of this place that makes us feel awe.

That takes me to my rant - I'm amused by developers who name their monstrous, sterile housing projects after nature. "Fox's Run," "Walden's Wood," "Hawk's Bluff," "The Preserve at Eagle Canyon," etc., when the very creatures after whom they name these developments have long since been run off by the bulldozers and noise, discouraged by the felled trees, and killed by the herbicides and pesticides that turn the ground into lush green lawns devoid of interest, beneficial insects and butterflies. (....no offense intended to anyone with a neatly manicured lawn...I think you know the kind I'm talking about.)

Nature is messy and random - it doesn't have curbs and gutters or a clubhouse. I know that I am atypical when it comes to this subject but somehow seeing that fox and feeling the riot of joy and glee that erupted deep within me made me feel very blessed and whole. Give me foxes any day of the week - you can keep the clubhouse.

February 4, 2004

Gaia

by James Taylor

JT on Sony.com: "There is a theory suggested by the planetologist John Lovelock, that life (on earth) is one inter connected, self regulating organism (watch out). He named it the GAIA theory after the ancient Greek earth goddess (evidently). Your basic tree huggers anthem."

A self-professed tree hugger of the highest order, this song by the original and best JT speaks to my heart. This sunrise photo always brings the verse "petal sky and the rosy dawn" to mind. Enjoy James Taylor's words and give the song a listen. If I could get my Playlist to change for me (major tech problems I'm not in the mood to fool with) I'd play it for you.

The sky was light and the land all dark

The sun rose up over Central Park

I was walking home from work

GAIA

The petal sky and the rosy dawn

The world turning on the burning sun

Sacred wet green one we live on

GAIA

Run run run run said the automobile and we ran

Run for your life take to your heels

Foolish school of fish on wheels

GAIA

Turn away from your animal kind

Try to leave your body just to live in your mind

Leave your cold cruel mother earth behind

GAIA

As if you were your own creation

As if you were the chosen nation

And the world around you just a rude and

Dangerous invasion

GAIA

Someone's got to stop us now

Save us from us

Gaia

No one's gonna stop us now

We thought we ought to walk awhile

So we left that town in a single file

Up and up and up mile after mile after mile

We reached the tree line and I dropped my pack

Sat down on my haunches and I looked back down

Over the mountain

Helpless and speechless and breathless

GAIA

Pray for the forest pray to the tree

Pray for the fish in the deep blue sea

Pray for yourself and for God's sake

Say one for me

Poor wretched unbeliever

Someone's got to stop us now

Save us from us Gaia

No one's gonna stop us now

So on this lovely, cool, pre-fall Sunday morning during my walk with Baylee, the sun was rising through the trees and a fog was lifting and it was beautiful and this song came to mind. Enjoy.

Class is in session

I'm a sucker for a lovely Sycamore tree. Glorious textured, shedding bark reveals a gleaming white, smooth surface beneath. Shades of browns, greens and grays frame the white in my idea of irregular perfection.

A Sycamore can be spotted miles away during the winter months with ease because the crown of the tree is mostly stark white. Their leaves are massive, shaped roughly like a maple leaf. After they drop in autumn you'll find them curled up like a baby ready for winter's sleep, and they're a beautiful chocolate brown that is soft, almost like velvet.

This particular Sycamore tree is located in a pretty little side yard of our local community college. I signed up for a couple of classes - one on digital photography, the other on Photoshop CS3. Being self-taught I recognize fully that I need to fill in the blanks and round out the edges of my knowledge. Last week we took some new-found skills outside and played in the courtyard. There, in the setting sun was this glorious, glowing Sycamore just waiting for me.

Sycamore trees have a fascinating way of exposing their beauty. Yes, their trunks are stunning, especially in autumn with a cobalt blue sky behind them. The shot, above, was taken during an autumn run to a local nursery and you can see how striking the trunk of the Sycamore is as compared to the other trees. Sycamore tree roots have the same characteristics as the rest of the tree. Rising above the ground in various and sundry fascinating patterns are these tree roots. These roots are no doubt the bane of some grounds maintenance guy, but for a photographer this is sheer heaven.

This is one of my favorite shots - and I haven't even turned it in to teacher yet. These exposed roots are just like the tree itself, with a trunk and branches. Reading about Sycamores on Wikipedia, I learned that every tree's bark must expand as the tree grows, but Shagbark Hickory, some maples and the Sycamore are examples of those who exhibit that process more openly than others. Apparently, it is due to the rigid texture of their bark which lacks the necessary component to expand that creates the shagginess.

It's nice learning about tree structures and the like, but basically the draw for me is the outward personality and character of a Sycamore. They're different, and they glow in the sunset and are such fun to photograph.

Why Giraffe Head Tree?

My good friend Carroll and I agree that nature is our church. We are both spiritually moved by the profound silence of a deep wood, the slap of waves on shoreline river rocks, the call of an eagle on the wing. Nature speaks to each of our senses. A spectacular sunset has moved me to tears, a lunar eclipse is cause for celebration, the sight of a white pelican brings joy and laughter, and the smell of woodsmoke is one of my favorite autumn pleasures. Every trip into the countryside, walking a woodland trail, or sitting by a waterfall reinforces my spiritual self and brings a peace like nothing else.

Nature is important in my life as nature calms me, but nature also teaches me lessons. An obvious example - many here have asked me "Why 'Giraffe Head Tree'?" What is the significance? The visual allure is obvious. This big old broken off branch clearly looks like the head of a giraffe, while the lower broken off branch appears to be a front leg, perhaps. That was the initial appeal when we first bought this lot, cleared the underbrush and crowned up the trees a little. The tree guy wanted to cut off those broken branches but I wouldn't let him. "It's a giraffe's head - don't you see?" Clearly, he thought me bonkers.

One day carefully walking along the slope to see what treasures were growing there I happened to stand beneath the giraffe head tree and look up. What I saw astounded me. This lovely, old Shagbark Hickory is a survivor. All old trees are, of course. However, this grand tree in her younger years had been tested, had been threatened, had been assaulted for she twists upward like a whirling dervish reaching for the sky with all that she has.

This corkscrew pattern of growth means this tree beat out her competition. Long ago another tree competed for this space, this patch of sunlight, the meager nutrients in that one spot of ground. As they grew the battle became fierce, and this tree curved around her competitor until she eventually won the war. It's a survivor, my Giraffe Head Tree, and it now stands tall and strong as a testiment to endurance.

I use this tree as an example to my daughter - how persistance and patience and determination will win out as she strives daily to reach her goals. Since I'm still a developing person myself, I have posted a photo of my Giraffe Head Tree on my vision board for constant inspiration. She's a grand old lady, this Shagbark Hickory. Today, this post is about her in thanks for all that she gives me.