Tag Archives: white
One of the things the Groom’s mother most wanted was a photograph of the bride’s wedding and engagement rings. The Groom’s mom was soooo excited to know that someone good (that’s *moi*) was taking lots of photos; she recounted to me how she only ended up with 8 decent photos of her own wedding and she wanted more for her son and new daughter-in-law. I was happy to oblige.
I had published a post of my morning at this place and figured that was pretty much it. But as the afternoon then early evening progressed, I saw the day was still sunny and dry, the skies clear, and the clouds were amazing. So I hopped in the car and arrived back at the refuge by 5PM and proceeded to spend a couple of hours there.
The neat thing about this place is that it’s a bit out of the way for the Houston metro area, so there were very few people there, both during the morning the day previous, and especially this evening the day after. I saw a couple bicycling down the gravel road, and one other birder couple out with their binocs. And that was it.
This image was captured back at the refuge center. I was essentially looking directly at the sun. I had a circular polarizer on my 16-35mm lens, and also used a 4×6 Lee 4-stop grad filter which I handheld in front of the lens (rather than use a square filter holder, which I don’t own, I just put the filter flush with the lens and move it up and down accordingly. Works for me.)
This is a view of Big Slough, looking toward the Big Slough Trail. *This* time, I remembered to use some bug wipes and I had absolutely no problem with the mosquitoes at all.
Sometimes, you need to listen to that little voice inside your head. Usually, I don’t, but today, I did. And I’m glad.
Day 3 of my Washington State vacation saw me heading toward the Longmire entrance to Mt. Rainier National Park. I had a reservation for two nights at the National Park Inn. I love staying in historic park lodges. No, they aren’t 5-star hotels – they are very basic with no bells or whistles and usually no television or phone and definitely no internet service. But, they are always rich with park history.
April means The Mountain still has quite a bit of snow, making access to many places difficult to well nigh impossible. I’d already stayed at the Paradise Lodge, so I figured staying someplace a little lower in elevation would allow me to hike around without having to resort to cross-country skis (back in the day, I loved downhill skiing, but was a terrible alpine skier).
Naturally, I arrived at the National Park Inn way too early for check-in, having left my Seattle hotel around 7AM that morning (it only takes 2 hours to get to the Longmire entrance). So, I figured I’d try to drive up to the Paradise area to see how it looked covered with snow; I’d visited during the fall, when the huckleberry bushes were brilliant oranges and reds, and the sky was a deep, dark blue.
The best adjective I have to describe the day is: “bleak”. The sky was a hazy white. The cloud cover was high enough in altitude to not hide Mt. Rainer and surrounding mountains, but basically, the scenery was white on white, with a little bit of dark from the treeline and the rocks sticking out of the snow.
I realized I was fighting an uphill battle when my attempt to hike to Narada Falls was a total bust before even leaving the parking lot. The snow level reached above my head and I had no snow shoes (perhaps I should invest in a pair, although I do live in southeast Texas where snow shoes do nothing but make for an interesting wall decoration). Then, I heard a little voice inside my head telling me to head back down in elevation, away from the hues of white, and toward the multitudinous hues of green deep within the shadowy forest.
So, I did.
I parked, pulled out my tripod and cameras, set things up, then just stood there.
The forest is still and silent, yet alive with the sounds of nature: birdsong, wind blowing through the trees, the creak of the trees as they bend in the wind, the drip of moisture from the leaves to the ground, the flow of water from countless meltwater springs and rivulets.
I captured images I would not have thought to photograph had I not listened to that little inner voice telling me to leave the white-on-white.
Do yourself a favor – listen occasionally to that little voice inside your head because it may well lead you to the best images of the day.