Lime

Lime, it's the hallmark of spring. That fresh green color that sprouts from the branches and pops up in the garden. All that grey and suddenly, almost overnight lime takes over the landscape.

Late yesterday afternoon, I was looking out a second floor window of my home and found myself staring at the blossoms blanketing the maple tree in my front yard. At first I tried to take a photograph from the window, but the image in my mind's eye did not translate through the camera lens as often happens when shooting from afar.

So I decided to step outside and move closer. I had never stopped to examine an individual maple blossom before. What I discovered was quite beautiful and much more complex than I expected.

Turner

During these last weeks of winter, it's been quite a challenge to find anything other than mud to photograph. So despite the damp weather this weekend, I was pleased when I visited this special spot in Quiogue--a tiny hamlet tucked between Westhampton and Quogue--and noticed the dappled grey overhead.

As the March winds made it difficult to steady my camera, I was reminded that dramatic skies signal a change in season. Spring may finally be on its way!

After shooting a few frames I decided to underexpose by 2/3 of a stop to enhance the contrast making the sky even more striking. And again, I've created an image that's almost black-and-white.

Although it lacks color, it also reminds me of the skies painted by William Turner, the British artist, in the 19th century. Hence the title and the romance...

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

Tree Down

After several sunny days in a row last week, when spring seemed to be just around the corner, I planned to attend the St. Patrick's Day parade--a big event in Westhampton this time of year. With green in mind for this blog, I conjured kilts flashing by or four-leaf clovers reflected in store windows. However typical of March's schitzophrenic nature, a major storm gathered forcing officials to postpone the event until next weekend.

As the wind whipped and the rain pounded on Saturday, my fair-weather visions vanished. So I practiced patience (not easy for me) and waited for something, anything to replace them. I was already late in posting. Then just before dinner as the sky darkened, the power went out...
Sunday dawned with nothing new in mind and still no electricity; so I surrendered and reviewed images already taken, particularly those with a hint of spring. When the rain finally stopped in the afternoon, my daughter and I went out for a while. Driving home, we came upon a large tree blocking the roadway.

"Hey Mom," Jackie said, "why don't you just photograph the tree?"