Treehouse

Trees, there's something wondrous about them. The way they stand strong, sway in the wind, grab the earth with their roots. So much like people, each with its own personality.

So on my visit to the Bayard Cutting Arboretum with a friend last Saturday, I was captivated by a very special tree, a huge weeping beech presiding over the back lawn. It's long, heavy limbs cascaded to the ground draping its trunk, concealing it from view.

As we neared, we separated the curtains of small green leaves. Beams of light bounced off the main trunk and the many offshoots popping up, some curving over head, others lending support. We had discovered a treehouse on the ground, no climbing required.

Afterwards, I inquired about the tree and learned that it's been there for 350 years. When I told my friend, he said "I hope we look that good at 350."

W

Nurture

Yesterday while wandering around the Bayard Cutting Arboretum in Oakdale, known for it's ancient weeping beech trees, my eye gravitated to a line of coleus plants popping up at my feet. I sunk down to my heels and moved in as if a magnet was pulling me close.

One, two, three...I counted three hearts beating against one another. I thought of my daughter, Lauren, her little boy, and the new baby now growing inside her. I thought of her vibrancy, her thirst for life, her relentless energy. I thought of her glittering smile mixed with quite a bit of mischief.

But mostly I thought about how she nurtures her child so seamlessly, is able to balance the demands of the outside world with her maternal instincts. And I'm thrilled that it's so much easier for her than it was for me...now that's progress!

Tomorrow is Lauren's birthday, she will be 25, what a beauty...

Stoop

Stoops, they reveal much about the inhabitants. For years I've been looking at stoops wondering about the people inside. Perhaps, I'm a nosybody or worse, some sort of peeping Tom. But let's face it, aren't we all curious about others. Isn't that why we love biographies, novels, movies and yes, photography. They give us a glimpse into other people's lives.

So if you were passing by my house and saw my stoop, you'd learn that I love dogs, flowers, and autumn colors. And maybe if you're observant, you'd notice that my welcome mat is worn and my stoop needs repainting, that I'm in need of a handyman.

As far as the image itself, it appears quite straight-forward, but notice the high contrast between the left and the right. While the mums are in deep shadow, Copper is bathed in light. A lot to ask of any camera no matter how sophisticated. So I had to compromise, choose an exposure that provided enough light to see the flowers, but not so much that it would obliterate the dog. Either way, I had to sacrifice one for the other.

Setting my ISO at 400, I chose to expose for the mums, but about one stop 'under' so we could still see Copper. The result is rather haunting. Perhaps a precursor to Halloween. Doesn't he look like Snoopy with super-powers?

Off-Season

On the last day of September, this seems like the image to post. Most of the second homeowners have returned to the city or to suburbia. However, they've left their lounge chairs to us natives along with permission to roam free with our dogs. And while it's my favorite month here on the East End, it also flies by the fastest.

Each year at the end of the summer, therefore, I tell myself that I'm going to make an extra effort to savor September: walk on the beach everyday, swim in the warm water, take the time to sprawl out on the sand with a novel; ignore the fact that I might be the only soul sitting there under the sun.

Well I'm here to report that Copper and I did pretty well this year, as evidenced by the images posted in the last few weeks. While I've certainly dug deeper into work, spent more hours in front of this screen, and broken out my boots a few times, I've still been polishing my toenails and wearing sandals most of the time.

And look at Copper, he's trying to figure out where all the people went and why they left their furniture behind and in his way...

Abundance

Something magical happens here during the first few weeks of autumn in a place called Cupsogue Beach County Park that I just became aware of after living on the East End for more than 20 years. As the Monarch butterflies migrate from Canada southward to Mexico each year, they stop there along the way to roost in the pines trees that line the path leading from the parking lot to the inlet.

Last Tuesday my friend, Joy, called inviting me to meet her there at 5:30pm to see the butterflies and "make sure to bring your camera," she insisted. So off I went with my dog, expecting to see a few fluttering around.

As we wandered down the path, I looked up and indeed there they were just as she had promised soaring in circles, dancing with one another, then landing between the pine needles where they perched to soak up the day's last bit of sun. Switching to my long zoom lens, I became mesmerized by the "abundance," a word Joy kept repeating in my ear. Grateful that she had lead me there, I wondered how many more marvels may be unbeknown to me. So for any of you reading these words, do keep me posted when you discover anything I might have missed...

Gazers

If you gaze out your window tonight, you'll see the Super Harvest Moon. It's a rare event when the autumnal equinox coincides with a full moon. I took this picture last evening while outdoors at dusk after photographing Monarch butterflies at Cupsoque Beach in Westhampton Dunes---to be posted soon.

Satisfied with the expedition, a friend and I were headed for the parking lot about to leave when I looked up and saw the moon hanging over the dunes. It was so vibrant I could actually see the man in the moon.

Immediately I thought of Serge Gal, director of Image Ouverte, a photography school in the South of France, someone who shared his passion for photography with me and many others. Serge passed away this past August. He spent his life helping others learn how to see. Today he would have been sixty years old.

Holy

In observance of Yom Kippur, this seemed like the right image to post today. Although I don't go to synagogue like I did in my youth and find other ways to connect spiritually, this highest of Jewish holy days still weighs on me. Marked as the day to atone for our sins and memorialize the dead, I still try to fast, but usually don't make it to sundown.

Interesting how this sad day falls in September, the most beautiful time of year here on the East End. The water has warmed, the air has turned crisp, and the ski seems bluer. As I walked along the beach in Westhampton the other day, I took pictures observing all three. But then I came upon this black rock that had washed up on shore and was shimmering in the sand, soft to the touch, filled with pores. I leaned in close, was again captivated by all the nooks and crannies.

Gazing at it now, I wonder if those are my sins or the people I have lost. Whatever the case, it's definitely holy...

Peach

Peach is one of my favorite colors. While most houses here on the East End are painted grey or tan, mine is painted a pale peach. And my living room which I redecorated about two years ago is covered in a more vibrant shade of that hue. After a few trips to Mexico, I was inspired to brighten up the long, wet winters here by the shore with some color from the tropics.

So when I was walking my dog last weekend and spotted this splash of peach, I stopped and sank down to my heels trying to get as close as possible with my camera. Within a few moments, I was lost in the color and texture; the nooks and crannies grew more interesting to my eye than the object as a whole.

While I usually specify exactly where I unearth my images, I'd like to leave this one up to your imagination. Leave a comment below telling me what you think it is and where it was discovered...

Leaving

While I try not to use this blog to showcase my family, I couldn't resist posting this image. Here's my younger daughter, Jaclyn, (my baby) at the airport a few days ago, about to leave for her semester abroad in Barcelona. Excited yet clearly apprehensive, she clutched her wallet and her rollie in the middle of the terminal just after checking her other two bags.

When I raised my camera, she covered her face and screamed, "Noooo, Mom, it's so embarrassing!"

"Come on, let me take just a few."

"Ok," she sighed and looked away."

At first I thought this image so aptly epitomized the moment. But maybe, it just mirrors the mixed emotions of the photographer who happens to be her mother. Even though separating has gotten easier, I must keep reminding myself that she's twenty years old not twenty months. Which raises an interesting question about portraiture.

Where do we leave off and they begin? Are we portraying how they feel at a given moment or how we feel about them?

For me, it's a dance of give and take, just like any relationship.

Engaged

With an autumn chill in the air this morning, I chose this image today, the official last day of the summer, hoping that the season will continue well into September.

Last week I met friends at Meschutt Beach, a narrow strip of sand on the Peconic Bay, where young families gather to enjoy the seaside. On Friday evenings, a band plays while adults munch on fried food and their children swim safely in the calm water.

As my girlfriend and I talked about our busy week, I had one eye on the kids running in and out and splashing about. Now that my daughters are in their twenties, it had been years since I had sat in that spot savoring the sight.

"Excuse me," I said to her in mid-sentence, "I have to go get my camera." Luckily, I had stashed it in my car, but left it there in hopes that I could just sit back and relax. Returning to my beach chair ten minutes later, I switched to my long lens and started shooting.

Quickly I focused on this group who had been seriously hunting for crabs since I had sat down. Because I like to engage with my subjects and capture their expressions, it's rare that I opt for a telephoto lens and shoot from behind. But in this instance, facial features were not required; their stance and the evening light warming their skin tells us everything we need to know.