Hugs

A few weeks ago, I finally succumbed and upgraded to the iPhone, just the 4, not the new 4S. And yes, like the rest of the world, I've become obsessed with its ability to bundle all the technology I need in one little device. But it wasn't until today, that I started to play with the camera.
Before leaving on a two-week road trip to Savannah and Charleston, that will include finding more Phantoms for my new series, I took Copper to the park for one last run before taking off tomorrow morning. There we made friends with two Labradors, Lola and Riley.
With snow covering the limbs and ice coating the lake, I regretted leaving my camera home in my haste to get things done today. But then I remembered my iPhone and it's photographic powers. Holding the small screen up, I started to press away trying to figure out how it works. After a string of bad takes, I caught this one by chance when Riley jumped up to hug his master.

Accumulation

Just when the foot of snow dumped in my yard last week is starting to melt, they are predicting more for tomorrow. This winter is surely bound to set records for accumulation here on the East End. Imagining how treacherous it's been for commuters over the past few weeks, I feel fortunate that I work from home and can find images, if need be, by just stepping outside and looking around.

After the last storm when the sun finally came out, I tromped around in my back yard looking for something noteworthy. Since I've lived here for almost twenty years, it's quite a challenge to see things anew on my property. But once again I was surprised when I gravitated toward a line of bare lilac branches that hung down under the weight of all that snow.

As I zoomed in close, the ratio between the spindly branches and the amount of snow accumulated there magnified before my eyes. It's a wonder of nature that I doubt I would have noticed without my camera.

Ever-Present

On New Year's Eve while driving through Riverhead, a little early for a lunch date, I turned into Indian Island State Park and drove around looking for an image to post for the New Year. Although I haven't been drawn to landscapes lately, I was attracted to this scene, classic for the area because of the common reeds (or phragmites) on the right invading the marsh.

No matter what the season, they appear wherever you look here on the East End of Long Island. Hovering over the dunes, lining the roads and waterways, crowning private gardens, these tall grasses are always waving in the wind. In the winter they become particularly beautiful as their hue turns from straw to auburn and their fronds fill up with seeds becoming ever so bushy.

If it weren't for the reeds, this spot with no leaves, no sign of life would appear bleak. But the cattails (as I wrongly refer to them) lift the spirit. Not only because of their spiky beauty, their tufts of silk, but because of there persistence, their ever-presence.

More Snow

As February draws to a close, I was hoping to move onto more spring-like subjects, but when I sat down at my desk this morning and saw more snow out my window, mother nature dictated.

Here is an image I captured after the last snowstorm while walking around my tiny town tucked amidst "the Hamptons" on eastern Long Island. While most of the world envisions this area as a seaside resort, those of us who live here year-round experience small town living that in the off-season resembles any little place in the Northeast.
Aside from the snowy path canopied by trees trailing into the distance, what I like most about this picture is the rusty maple leaves on the right catching the midday sun and throwing the composition a little off-kilter. The long shadow from the telephone pole falling diagonally across the foreground also disrupts the symmetry of this typical scene drawing the eye in.

Inside Out

With the wind howling outside my window and snow blanketing my yard, I find myself sitting inside again writing about shooting during the winter. Another alternative to charging outside into the cold is to aim your camera at your window.

Windows provide a natural frame that we rarely notice since we’re usually focused on what we see outside. However, if we shift our perspective inside, something interesting may come into view that we hadn’t noticed before.
One of the favorite features of my house is the grids set inside the casement windows. During a storm, they contain the chaos outside calling attention to patterns forming on the glass and how the light varies from one square to another.
To capture this image, I picked up my Canon Rebel setting the zoom lens to about 35 mm – the “normal” focal length for my digital camera. Then I stood far enough away from the window so that the grid filled the frame.
Next, I flipped the dial to shutter speed priority with a setting of 1/30 of a second – the slowest speed that I can hand-hold without shaking. It’s suggested that a tripod be used when shooting at longer intervals than 1/60 of a second.
In my opinion, however, that choice depends on the steadiness of the photographer. And most important, the flash must be turned off so the image isn’t washed out and the nuance of natural light shines through.