Spent

There's nothing more "springy" than tulips. Last week when I was given this bunch they stood up straight at attention, their petals closed tight into yellow fists. Each day I admired them as they opened little by little, spreading wider over my dining room table.

Then over the weekend, they started to droop. As they reached down almost touching the cherry wood, I waited until this morning to photograph them in the natural light shining through the nearby window.

Yes, fresh flowers are lovely, but there's something remarkable and quite touching about tulips when they're spent.

Worker

When my grandson heard that a truck had dumped a mountain of mulch on my driveway last Sunday, he begged his parents to drop him off at my house so he could help. Shovel in hand, he dug right in, helping to fill the wheelbarrow and spread the mulch over my many beds. Of course, in between trips around the yard, he ran up and down the huge pile, filling his sneakers with his own private stash.

As the sun sank down in the afternoon, I realized this was the perfect photo opportunity. One of the most difficult jobs as a photographer is to capture young children as they dart around. However, one of the best ways is to engage them in an activity that they love so they forget about the camera.

My grandson loves to work, especially in the dirt. Can you tell?

Color At Last

Looking out the window or walking down the street these days here on the East End, the landscape is still cloaked in grey. Grey skies, grey shingles, grey branches. Since I usually shoot in color, it hasn't been easy for me to find images in recent months.

I've been dreaming of April and the colors of spring. Like most, I forget that April is perhaps the greyest of months.

Therefore, on a walk in the Quogue Wildlife Preserve this past Saturday with a friend, I was determined to find some color. One of few sunny days of late, I could at least count on the blue sky. But again, the greyness enveloped me.

"Could you help me look for some color," I asked my friend who can be quite observant.

A few minutes later, he pointed out some red branches poking through.

"Thanks," I sighed moving in close.

Blake

This morning at 12:21, Blake Levi Schaffer arrived. Eight pounds, two ounces. After just three hours of labor, he's finally here!

As I've said before, I don't like to use this forum to show-off my family. But you'll have to bear with me on this one. After all, I am a Jewish mother and now a grandmother of two.

Here's the first photograph taken of mother and child together. Just ten hours old and he's already my model. Although I hate the flash and the automatic portrait setting, it's the best choice when there's just one chance to get it right and no time to experiment. And fortunately, his other set of grandparents are blocking the wall behind them, so there's no shadow...

Repeat

Today on a walk in the park with my grandson, I saw the first forsythia blooming. With my dog in tow too, I hadn't brought my camera on this sunny yet cold day. Returning home, I thought I'd run out again, but once I sat down my energy waned. Fortunately I recalled this image taken in 2007 along a back road in Riverhead.

Displayed on my website as part of my Lines series, I'm still pleased by how the double yellow lines mimic the blooms so beautifully. Sometimes a repeating pattern or color is enough to make an image memorable. Its a simple tip that seems appropriate to share as we wait for spring until the bitter end...

Beans

After spending most of last week indoors due to back trouble, I was itching to get outside with my camera yesterday, especially since I was overdue to post here. Driving toward Greenport on the North Fork, I was sure I'd see some signs of spring, pansies on the side of the road or tractors back in the fields.

Although the sun was shining and tiny buds tipped branches, vistas remained bare. Nothing caught my attention nor stirred my imagination. I had all but given up, tucked my camera way under my arm, when we stopped at Aldo's for a pound of coffee before heading back.
Well known for his premium beans (and biscottis), Aldo is one of the few who continues to roast his own. As we ordered Ethiopian, I noticed an apparatus attached to the roaster, spinning in the window, stirring a tub-full, cooling the beans.

Drawn to the sight, I set my shutter speed at 1/5 sec to blur and thus, emphasize the motion. Then I held steady, snapping many frames in order to get one where the blur is in just the right place.

In photography like in literature, "the best laid plans of mice and men (and women) often go awry" or perhaps, amount to a hill of beans...

Bottoms Up

Despite their ornery nature, swans seem to be one of those subjects that photographers just can't resist. They fall into the postcard category like sunsets and sailboats.

Last weekend after I photographed my "Turner"--a rather moody comment on the change of seasons--I swiveled around and was tickled when these two caught my eye on the other side of the waterway.

Beyond the chuckle and humor here, I'm amazed at how the mood and light can vary so drastically in one location, from one spot to another under the same sky. It just depends which way you point your lens.

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...

Absence

There's something wonderfully mysterious about this image, somewhat like a graphic novel.

On a trip into Manhattan this past week, I was sitting on the train, a double-decker, shooting down at the door. When it opened at each stop, I photographed the people coming in and out. Of all the images, I found this one most interesting.

Like in writing, it's sometimes what is left out, what is absent rather than what is included in an image that makes it memorable. Here we can feel the anticipation of waiting for someone to walk through the door or sit down on the bench. Our imagination starts to work...

Will it be someone old or young, male or female, black or white, healthy or infirm?

I'm also attracted to its black-and-white properties with a hint of red repeated inside and out. None of this could have been planned. And how it happens is always a mystery.

Canopy

Around now we're all sick and tired of the winter. Enough already. It's so bad for me that I can't seem to find any inspiration to take photographs around here. I've covered the ice, the snow, even the train tracks. A week has gone by and I haven't taken one photo...

So today I decided instead of braving the cold and trying to overlook all the dirty snow that still lingers, I'd continue to reflect on the week of warmth in Florida (I've been back for only a week).

Here's an aluminum canopy framing the palm trees in a municipal square. While South Beach is known for its Art Deco architecture, there's also an abundance of contemporary sculpture that caught my eye. Many of the gates, doorways and public spaces are adorned with intricate metalwork bending in all directions.

For all its associations with the old and the infirm on the inside, I found Miami to be a place with a healthy appreciation of the new on the outside.