A bead of water hitches a midnight ride down Ore Creek on a snow white feather in mid-August 2009. By now, it may be halfway to Niagara Falls if the winds were kind.
Rust: Painting the Town Red
March 8th, 2010 § 0
I like to go behind buildings to see the junk they leave unattended, big objects that don’t fit in their dumpsters. These things collect until the load is large enough to haul away. Here, a steel box has become a pedestal for a gasoline pump nozzle in the afternoon sun. The dull sheen of the aluminum sharply contrasts with the rusting scars of the painted surface, and a rust feast is in progress on the never-painted rectangle in the upper left. A few years ago, the aluminum nozzle would buy a hamburger if it was taken to a metal recycler. Not in this economy.
Rust: Nature’s Paintbrush
March 7th, 2010 § 0
God, isn’t rust beautiful? :-)
It’s easy to find in Michigan these days. Just look at all of those colors, the flaking of paint layers and the colorful pitting in the larger version. Come back tomorrow for more decaying man-made things. One is in the batter’s box.
Veinglorious
March 6th, 2010 § 0
In another attempt to assuage Winter, here’s a dose of color for you which veers from the usual images at Words4It. In 2006, a poinsettia I had in my office for several years developed particularly colorful leaves. I suspect it was because I didn’t give it proper nutrition. As leaves fell off, I scanned them for no good reason except to record their patterns. This image is a composite of those scans. The larger version (2400 x 1292, 393k) is quite spectacular in detail. You are welcome to crop it down to fit your desktop.
Riffraff Chaff
March 6th, 2010 § 0
I doubt many passersby notice this clump of dried ornamental grass. It stands about three feet high on a sliver of dirt between the Main Street sidewalk and a parking lot beside Ciao Amici’s, a very fine Italian Restaurant. The snows from the sidewalk and parking lot have been plowed against it. It isn’t considered important, but if you really look at it up close as I’ve done in the above image, the color comes forth along with the visual mix of delicate seeds, vertical stems and swirling leaves.
Nightgardens #3: A summer reminder
March 4th, 2010 § 2
To satisfy my need for color and things that grow during this dormant time of year, here’s a reminder that in a few months we’ll be at summer’s peak again. These daylilies were photographed at the close of the day in Ruth Esper’s garden which has been mentioned before on Words4It.com. The image is part of my Nightgardens series.
How Autumn Works
March 4th, 2010 § 0
A Magritte hat tip to Pierre Bretagnolle, N-Sided (3D character creation), for finding this gem by Brighton, UK filmaker David Packer at SheepFilms
The Arc in Arctic
March 3rd, 2010 § 0
In summer, they circle wrought iron tables where friends gather to drink. In winter, they are stacked against the patio’s brick wall of the Downtown Martini Bar in Brighton, MI. The arcs of the chair backs are more noticeable in winter when they are damned near the only organic shape in eyesight. In the summer, our eyes are drawn to the plants nearby, but when plants can’t grow even small towns like this one seem linear and cement covered. We seek reminders that organic shapes exist at all. I think that’s why we find deep snow beautiful. It softens shapes.
The bedraggling of winter
March 2nd, 2010 § 0
The harsher phase of winter is over. Gone are the bitter temperatures and biting winds although we can still expect storms dropping significant amounts of snow during the next six weeks. But warmer days and bright sun melt layers of snow and we start to see the grime and debris which has accumulated during the winter months. Here, a bedraggled Canada goose feather rises to the surface near open water where the geese and ducks have spent the colder months.
Ikebana Redux
February 28th, 2010 § 2
More than a month ago, I posted an image of this arrangement. It’s still intact after several storms. There’s more snow now, more drifting, and scars of freezings and thawings yet it endures as a small winter footnote. Silent. Fragile.
Black on black
February 28th, 2010 § 2
This is definitely a black duck, but not an American Black Duck. No, it’s an American duck because it’s in Brighton, Michigan, but it isn’t an American Black Duck. Confused? Let me obfiscate the issue a bit more: if this was an American Black Duck it wouldn’t be black at all. Now do you understand? I thought so.
With its olive-colored bill tucked into its feathered back, it’s difficult to tell what is duck and what is the black of night in this image. If its eye didn’t reflect my camera’s flash with an unworldly raspberry glow, I doubt you would know it’s an animal at all. The larger image gives you more clues. I like how the feathers have iridescent qualities like those of ravens and there’s a faint sheen of green on its head.
Worlds within icicles
February 27th, 2010 § 0
The trash containers at the Brighton millpond are durable and quite handsome as trash cans go. They have a mildly convex lid about a foot above the barrel so you can reach in them to drop your McDonald’s wrapper but the lid prevents rain from filling them. There’s an outward flairing ring of vertical slants around the barrel to prevent critters climbing into them. It was designed by someone who spends too much time at their CAD workstation. They need to visit a public park as the sun sets. They’d see how ingenious raccoons and o’possums can be.
As critter guards, they’re a flop, but their refracted image adds beauty to the icicles hanging from the lid. See the larger image for more detail.
ADHDuck: Pointless meanderings of ducks
February 27th, 2010 § 0
When there’s a light coating of snow on the millpond, the tracks of the neighborhood critters can be amusing. Here’s an example. As you can see, there are no beak prints along this trail so the duck wasn’t seeking food. It was just mindlessly walking and then it changed its mind and did a 330 degree turn. Perhaps it was just bored with being around the other ducks or needed to keep its legs active. This isn’t a rare occurence. I see tracks going no where all of the time. Maybe ducks are just filling their day because they have so little to do otherwise.
Mid-Winter Duck Yoga
February 24th, 2010 § 0
This feathered yogi practices the Stand On One Leg Touch Tail posture near shore at the Brighton millpond. While it may look like a mass of random duck parts, it’s actually a fully functioning Pekin preening its lower tail area. The orange patch above the beak is its right webbed foot held against its body. The water is very cold now so I imagine the feathers warm each foot periodically throughout the night. Click the picture to see the larger version.
Curious Chiaroscuro
February 23rd, 2010 § 0
The children’s Imagination Station is a jumbled maze of two-by-fours plunked next to the millpond. It’s an eyesore but a child’s paradise with many nooks and grannies to explore. In the middle of the night, I can explore it without anyone around to raise an eyebrow. Light from the street lamps slices through the fences creating glorious patterns of chiaroscuro. The blurry image (above) gives no clues what it real and what is light or shadow. It has a juicy air of mystery about it. You can discern parts of the playground structures in the lower image, but it’s still unclear what’s what. Your eyes dart around attempting to make sense of it all. Both images remind me of my years with charcoal dust deeply embedded in my fingerprints from college drawing classes. The colors in these two images is accurate. I didn’t alter them in Photoshop.
Monster on a Coneflower
February 22nd, 2010 § 0
I like to look at insects, but I don’t know what the hell I’m seeing most of the time. I’d rather spend my time looking at them than fiddling with guide books to identify them precisely. Consequently I have no idea what this is, but I can tell you it’s a miniature predator (about 1/16″) by its praying mantis-like forefeet with tiny hooks at the end. The spiny perch is the center of a purple coneflower about 1″ in diameter.
Wounds of Summer
February 21st, 2010 § 0
We think of butterflies as fragile but they endure and often have the scars to prove it. This one is an Eastern Comma, I think. Seventy-six of the 500+ North American butterfly species are in the “True Brushfoots” category. There are several Commas varieties. They are named for a comma shaped mark on the underside of their back wings, not seen in this photograph. It bathed in the sun on my balcony one July afternoon. There is also a Question Mark brushfoot named for the same reason.
While Monarchs have up to four life cycles a year, Commas apparently have only two with the winter “form” seeking a comfy place to over-winter so they can breed in the spring. I believe this one is part of the summer “form” nearing the end of its life because its wings are scarred. Note the wide range of colors of the scales and hairs from purplish browns to green-tinged yellows. This butterfly identification site helped me create this post: www.butterfliesandmoths.org
A time to rust, a time to tow
February 21st, 2010 § 0
This chain pulls cars out of ditches in peak season. When last winter ended, it was given an unceremonial toss onto the driveway cement where it awaits another slippery season. While it waits, it rusts and reflects the blue sky in an almost pearlescent manner. It’s an interesting mass of unappreciated textures, light and color.
Murder on Milkweed
February 20th, 2010 § 0
Nature may often be beautiful, but its beauty masks a savage world. By mid-summer, I start to explore milkweed plants to see if the caterpillars of monarch butterflies are feasting on them. I arrived a few minutes late at this one. A marauding yellow jacket beat me. Here it dines on a monarch butterfly caterpillar that won’t make the winter migration to Mexico. Its fluids coat the milkweed leaf. There is no larger version of this image. Sorry.
Winter Yearnings: Summer Color
February 19th, 2010 § 2
I didn’t punch up the colors in Photoshop. This is how my camera recorded them. This 1999 vintage 1-megapixel Nikon always skews to the blue range so I can’t say it’s a realistic representation of the flowers. They’re still beautiful surrounded by the rich greens at the close of twilight.
Pop Quiz 1: Where’s the Animal?
February 16th, 2010 § 0
Somewhere in this millpond garden of daylilies, sedum and hosta, there is an animal that’s larger than you think. Can you find it? It might help to view the larger version of this photograph. Here’s the answer.
Spinning at the end of the millpond
February 14th, 2010 § 0
Snow covers sins in design and the debris of Swinus Americanus. It’s a perfect time to show you a few things near the end of the millpond where the water descends into oblivion. Each of these images is linked to a larger one that shows more detail. Standing on the Main Street sidewalk (above), you look northward. In the far end, you can see the Tridge. In the foreground is the “ice tunnel.” It has enclosed the falls, about 5′ tall, at the dam. The rocks on the right support the dam and look like rubble when they aren’t covered in snow.
The photo on the left (below) was taken at the fence on the far left of the above picture. The resident ducks have a small patch of open water in which to swim. A snow-covered octopus is in the center. Yes, an octopus. It’s part of Brighton’s effort to toss sculpture around downtown. Whoever placed this whimsical sculpture in this terrible place ought to be fired. It’s a fun piece and deserves to be mounted above the water so people can see it without having a fence within a foot of it. Harumph.
Standing on the small bridge in the above picture, you look to the southeast (below, right) over the top of the dam. The millpond cascades into a cement chasm and culvert that whisks the water under Main Street, the shops, and parking lots behind them. It emerges a block away. On this snowy morning at 5am, a yellow salt truck blurred by as I was taking this picture. Except for it, there was no sound or movement other than the occasional quack from a disturbed duck.
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A reason to hate the Green Movement
February 13th, 2010 § 0
The lights on the Tridge illuminate the fresh snow on February 10th before dawn. The light is so bright, it burns out the highlights in this image, but it’s so energy efficient you can lay your hands right on top of them and cannot warm them. Too bad. There are times like this morning when I detest the environmental movement. Nothing chases me back to the warmth of my car than numb fingers that can no longer detect the shutter button. Damn.
Ripe cottonballs, ready to harvest
February 12th, 2010 § 0
As you can see, it’s time to harvest the cottonballs! They are big and very ripe on this February morning. Now that the auto industry is on life support in Michigan, perhaps this exciting new agricultural product can bring us back from oblivion.
Whenever I can photograph scenes without using my camera’s flash, I’m thrilled. Thrilled! The flash flattens all things and often leaves harsh, unrealistic shadows. I’d rather shoot fuzzy images illuminated by available light than use it. Here, the light comes from a spot attached to the soffit of a Brighton home. It casts beautiful shadows on the freshly fallen cotton, don’t you think?
The pre-dawn glow of fresh snow
February 11th, 2010 § 0
Nothing covers the sins of the world better than 7″ of fresh, fluffy snow. Above, Main Street is on the left; the millpond on the right. In the distance, you can see one of the tall pointed roofs at the children’s Imagination Station. On the left edge, you can see the bronze figure that wore the party hat on New Year’s Eve.
At about 5:00 am, a city worker scooted by on an ATV that had a plow on the front of it. He looked like he was having a blast sending the light snow through the air as he cleared the sidewalks in downtown Brighton. He’s the dark blur (far right) in front of the storefronts, below.
