Linda Grashoff's Photography Adventures

Nature

From the Archives of 2005—4


July 19, 2020

When I went to Japan in 2005, we visited Hiroshima. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I remember feeling uneasy during the ride there. I really didn’t want to go. It turned out to be a moving experience I’ll always remember. I’m posting only two photographs from Hiroshima because you can find many online. On another part of the trip our group saw the Aso volcano, site of a geothermal power station.

1 Thousands of origami cranes hang near one of the sculptures in the Hiroshima Memorial Peace Park. A plaque near the park entrance was my first indication that the park was to be a particularly memorable experience. This is what the plaque says:

Memorial Monument for Hiroshima, City of Peace

(Cenotaph for the A-Bomb Victims)

Erected 6 August 1952

This monument was erected in the hope that Hiroshima, devastated by the world’s first atomic bomb on 6 August 1945, would be rebuilt as a city of peace.

The epitaph reads, “Let all the souls here rest in peace; For we shall not repeat the evil.” It summons people everywhere to pray for the repose of the souls of the deceased A-bomb victims and to join in the pledge never to repeat the evil of war. It thus expresses the “Heart of Hiroshima” which, enduring past grief and overcoming hatred, yearns for the realization of true world peace with the coexistence and prosperity of all humankind.

This monument is also called the “A-bomb Cenotaph,” for the stone chest in the center contains the register of deceased A-bomb victims.

In putting together this post, I learned that the plaque is controversial. This is from a Japanese travel site:

The carefully-worded Japanese message inscribed on the cenotaph says: 安らかに眠って下さい 過ちは 繰返しませぬから. In English this translates to, “Please rest in peace, for [we/they] shall not repeat the error.” The “we/they” discrepancy is a result of an intentional turn of phrase. The sentence, written in formal Japanese, does not include a subject, leaving it open to interpretation as to whose error is being mentioned. However, right-wing political activists have taken exception to this possibility, and strongly objected to it possibly admitting Japanese guilt. In 2005, the cenotaph was vandalized by someone for this very reason.

While the decisions of all the related governments will likely be discussed and debated for generations, the Memorial Cenotaph will continue to remind us that the loss of any life is a tragedy for us all, and the loss of so many lives should be remembered forever.

While we were in Japan we felt no blame, even when we met with a woman who had survived the attack. The emphasis was always on peace.

2 This was the morning view out our hotel window in Hiroshima.

3 Our travel to the volcano wound through mountains that fascinated this flatlander.

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9 We visited a sake brewery; that may be where I took this photograph.

10 A building and the reflection of a person somewhere in Tokyo—or Kyoto. I regret not identifying the locations of many of my photographs while I still could.

11 Even in 2005 we saw many Japanese, mostly young people, glued to their cell phones, but we also saw people reading paper books on the subway and elsewhere.

12 View from a subway platform in Tokyo—or Kyoto

13 Nightscape from our hotel room window

14 A construction fence with reflections

15 We visited a fish farm . . .

16 . . . and some pipes.

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Close to Home—and an Excursion


July 12, 2020

These days several disasters have been claiming my attention: 1) the worst one: the one we are all dealing with now, 2) corrupted photograph files on an external hard drive, and 3) a burst pipe and subsequent flooding in our cottage. I’m happy to say that the second disaster turned out, I think, to be not much of a disaster after all. I’ve cloned all the files to a new hard drive and checked all the photos from 2001 through 2011, finding only nine corrupt files, all in the folder for 2005. None was a serious keeper, and I deleted them. I’ll keep checking the rest of the files, just in case, but meanwhile I am much relieved. The third disaster, the most  recent, ruined three large prints kept under the bed and the mats of two framed medium-size prints along with a very large drawing. We are living in chaos until all the flooring is replaced and things—rescued from the flooded rooms and relocated to the unflooded room—can be set to rights. As for the first disaster, I’m coping, as are we all, more or less.

All this is to say that I haven’t been out with the camera much lately. But here are four photographs taken in my neighborhood in May and downloaded to the new hard drive. The fifth photo is from a mid-June drive in the country. My locked-down community has begun what it calls a soft opening that allows such drives (as long as we don’t exit the vehicle). After I tame the chaos a little, I hope to take more such outings.

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From the Archives of 2005—3


July 5, 2020

In January 2005 I accompanied my husband and 10 Oberlin College students to Japan. We were there three weeks—they to study land use, and I and my camera to drink in whatever we could. While our group saw sewage-treatment plants and fish farms and such, we also visited tourist attractions, including these two Shinto shrines.

July 8, 2020 Update

New information added in the caption to #5, thanks to a comment from fellow blogger Steve Schwartzman.

1 Aoshima is a small island off Kyushu with an unusual shoreline. In English it is known as The Devil’s Washboard, but I don’t know if that is a translation from the Japanese. If I remember right, the island itself—rather than something on the island—is considered sacred. Shinto shrines are identified by their torii gates, the orange structure in this photograph.

2 On this day the waves were strong.

3 It was low tide when we arrived, so these rocks stay at least partially submerged.

4 I could have spent days just photographing the rocks.

5 The erosion alone is fascinating. I’ve seen photographs of rocks similar to these taken in other parts of the world. Thanks to Steve Schwartzman, who commented recently, I now know that these rock formations are called tafoni.

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7 Iron nodules like this are embedded in the sandstone along Ohio’s Vermilion River.

8 Bits of shell adorn the rocks like confetti.

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10 Some depressions are nests for smaller rocks.

11 Thousands of torii gates wind around the Fushimi Inari Shrine in Kyoto. The beautiful Japanese characters on some of the gates give the names of corporate sponsors. I prefer to think that they are poems.

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13 We arrived shortly before sunset, which offered interesting shadows.

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Close to Home 6


June 14, 2020

I’m no closer to solving my corrupted-files problem than I was last week, with the possible exception of reassurance from fellow-blogger Michael Scanlon that putting corrupt files on a pristine drive will not harm the new drive. So this week I hope to migrate all the files from the damaged drive to the new one even if I can’t fix the corrupt files. Meanwhile (and earlier), I’ve been sending photos to some people in my community that I took close to home before basically abandoning my failing drive. These are ones I sent out this past week. Most have already appeared on this blog. I hope you don’t remember or don’t mind seeing them again. 1 Before our tennis courts were prepared for action this season, the courts looked like this. Photograph taken April 15, 2020

2 I like to think the yellow posts are keeping the fireplug from harm—and they are. Photograph taken October 16, 2017

3 Housing renovations require dumpsters. How lucky for me. Photograph taken June 12, 2018

4 Don’t fret for these flowers; there were plenty still left on the plant. Photograph taken June 9, 2018

5 The Flowering Chair. Photograph taken July 30, 2017

6 Rock Pond at Sunset. Photograph taken July 3, 2016

7 Rock Pond with Ducks at Sunset. Photograph taken August 8, 2016

8 Rock Pond with Waterlilies at Sunset. Photograph taken August 8, 2016


Close to Home 5


June 8, 2020

It’s been three weeks since the last post, and three weeks since I finally decided not to push my luck with the external hard drive that houses my Lightroom catalog and all my photographs. I had been seeing just too many corrupted files as I was going through the archives. So I have not turned on that drive except to try repairs. My attempts didn’t work, and I’m waiting for an IT person at my former place of employment to get back to me with her suggestions. I have a backup of all but the most recent downloads, so all will not be lost. But still . . .

Meanwhile, here are a few photographs I took around my neighborhood last year that I don’t think I’ve posted and a few more that I downloaded before declaring my drive dangerous to use. Maybe by next week I will have repaired the damaged files and transferred the uncorrupted ones to my new drive. But if I can’t repair them, I have a question for other photographers or techies reading this post: Will cloning corrupted files to a brand-new hard drive hurt the new drive? I have thousands of photographs, and to go through them all to find those that are corrupt would take a bit of time. If you’d rather not put your recommendations in the comments section, you may used the email form in the About section of this blog.

Tree reflected in Buttonbush Vernal Pool, May 5, 2019

2 Ghosts on Wildflower Hill, June 15, 2019

Waterlily leaves in Meadow Pond, May 3, 2020

4 The last—for a while—sunset through bare branches, May 7, 2020

5 Dumpster discovered in the groundskeeping area of our community

The side of the dumpster in full sun

7 Another side of the dumpster

8 Detail of an untitled sculpture by Forbes Whiteside on the Kendal at Oberlin grounds


From the Archives of 2005—2


May 17, 2020

Here are some photographs I took in Ohio in 2005.

1 Yes, Ohio. This photograph featuring a portrait of Joseph Stalin was taken at the Ohio State Reformatory in Mansfield, Ohio, where a movie set in a Soviet prison was shot. The 1994 movie The Shawshank Redemption was also filmed here. The reformatory has long been shut down, and the facilities are now used for special events, like my husband’s high-school reunion.

2 The Flats—A.K.A. the floodplain of the Cuyahoga River—requires many bridges. The sun was setting on this one.

3 Otto’s Greenhouses once thrived near Vermilion, Ohio.

4 Morning light hit the redbud tree outside the second-floor window of my former residence in May.

5 I used to pass this field on my walk from my former home to the Vermilion River.

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7 This is a young film of Leptothrix discophora, one of the iron bacteria, on the Vermilion River.

Algae clings to the undersides of some leaves floating on the surface of the Back Pond at Schoepfle Garden.

9 The reflection of a maple tree is almost obliterated by the tree’s leaves.

10 This view is one I often spent time taking in on my walk back home from the river.


Close to Home 4


May 10, 2020

The ponds in my community continue to fascinate me. You’ll probably see a lot of them before our lockdown is lifted. I’ll also keep checking out our groundskeeping area.

May 12, 2020 Update

Last night Robert Rodriguez critiqued the first photo on his Creative Critique-Live #6 event. If you want to see what he said about it and did to it, fast forward to 20:55 on the YouTube video. The whole video may be of interest to you other photographers who read this blog.

1 These feral apple trees were flowering at Green Pond.

2 A friend said this photograph made her think of a moon gate.

3 I was aiming for the ripples in the middle distance as they were lit by the sun setting over Meadow Pond, but the ripple in the foreground was an unanticipated gift.

4 My resident botanist tells me that many young leaves make their appearance as pink or red rather than green. The advantage is that light is less able to penetrate the tender young tissues until they have matured, by which time they will have developed their chlorophyll and turn green. There may be even more to it. I found the following on a web page of Northern Woodlands, a quarterly magazine published by the Center for Northern Woodlands Education, a nonprofit in Lyme, New Hampshire:

Scientists studying the physiology of fall foliage have suggested that the anthocyanins responsible for red color in leaves—in fall or spring—may help them withstand cold and screen them from damaging ultraviolet rays, air pollution, and various other assaults. This may not seem all that clever in an autumn leaf that’s about to drop, but in a spring leaf just getting started on a full growing season, it’s a brilliant strategy—especially considering all that could go wrong for a young leaf.

5 There’s one in every crowd, right? (And no, these wheelbarrows are not waiting to turn green.)

6 I also found a collection of traffic cones for my collection of traffic cones in our groundskeeping area.

7 The sun begins to set on Green Pond. The flowering tree in the background is the same tree seen in the foregound of the first photograph, taken in the morning a few days earlier.


From the Archives of 2005—1


May 3, 2020

There are almost 800 fewer photographs in my 2005 archives than in my 2004 archives, but I found more that I want to share of the ones of 2005. In this post are seven photos taken in Florida, one in Georgia, and five in Wisconsin. You’ll be able to tell which are which except for one taken in Sarasota (the Dodge) and the one taken in Georgia (Casey, the cat).

1 The color of the sky is not right for the color of the water. I have tried and tried to make them better matched, but I simply cannot. Still, I like this photo enough to show it warts and all.

2 This and the previous photograph were taken in the restricted area of Florida’s Myakka River State Park the first time I went there. Every subsequent time, there was no water in the area where I took #1, and no trees surrounded by water as you see here.

3 This is a small tributary of the Myakka that runs through my friend Jean’s property. The water is quite tannic. Running over white sand, it looks yellow through orange to brown. When it reflects the sky, patches of blue show, and when it reflects foliage, green.

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5 Strong waves kick up sand in the Gulf of Mexico near Sarasota.

6 An egret trolls a Sarasota beach.

7 My Atlanta friend Kathy’s cat, Casey, lives on in photographs.

8 This old armored vehicle was parked outside a Sarasota salvage store.
9 This is another photo with problems, but I really like it, partly because it features my daughter-in-law and partly because of the shapes of the cliffs. This is Parfrey’s Glen, which is sort-of near Madison, Wisconsin. Again, I can’t fix the sky, and cropping ruins the composition.

10 Wisconsin farmland near—or not so near—Madison

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13 The woods somewhere near Madison


Close to Home 3


April 26, 2020

A few days ago I walked over to our grounds-keeping area. In the almost-four years I’ve lived in this community, I’d never done that. The natural areas also called to me.

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From the Archives of 2004


April 19, 2020

1 In July 2004 I took a two-week embroidery workshop at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts from the renowned Renie Breskin Adams. If the word embroidery conjures stuffiness for you, be sure to click on Renie’s name. On the weekend between the two weeks of workshop, I wandered around with my brand-new DSLR, a Nikon D80.

2 I took this photograph in the women’s restroom of a restaurant somewhere.

3 This still-life arrangement was in a display window of an interior design firm in downtown Sarasota, Florida.

4 My friend Britt and I were driving home from downtown Cleveland again when we came across a collection of burned-up cars that we thought were the remains of a used-car dealership.

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7 Haystack is on Deer Isle, Maine. The ocean there is nothing like the Gulf of Mexico at Sarasota, a sea location I’m more familiar with.

8 There is a lot more visible life on the Deer Isle coasts.

9 The seaweed is different . . .

10 . . . and so are the rocks.

11 Maine rocks are unlike the rocks (like this one, covered in silt) along Ohio’s Vermilion River, too.

12 I have made many photographs of the Back Pond at Schoepfle Garden, most of reflections.

13 The Vermilion River’s bedrock is shale.

14 Vermilion River shale includes iron, mostly microscopic. Benign iron bacteria love it.

15 The iridescent iron bacterium Leptothrix discophora sometimes coats the precipitate of other iron bacteria.

16 Oyster mushrooms (Pleurotus ostreatus) are edible. It was very tempting, but I didn’t pick this one in Schoepfle Garden.

17 People in Oberlin are used to seeing white squirrels on the town square, but we don’t often see a white one and a grey one arranged (with contrasting backgrounds, even) on the same tree.


Close to Home 2


April 12, 2020

Since the post of March 29, I have taken many more walks around the grounds where I live. It’s getting a little harder to find something new to photograph. I’ll need to focus on new ways to photograph familiar things. The last two photos—the very last is a close crop of the previous image—were taken out our back window.

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From the Archives of 2003


April 5, 2020

The last post comprised photographs that I took around the grounds where I live. With things as they are, for a long time in the future new photographs will be taken on the grounds where I live. So here’s a little deviation for you (and me).

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Close to Home


March 29, 2020

Perhaps like many of you, I have not be able to get out as I used to. So I’ve been walking around the property of the retirement community in which I live. Before our small gym was closed, I would work out first thing in the morning, so I missed photographing this time of day. It’s a small silver lining that I’m now out and about, often (when it isn’t cloudy) seeing the sun come up. I’m so lucky to be near nature, especially water, which I love to photograph. I’m also lucky, as are all of you, to be able to travel electronically. Please stay as safe as you can. We need each other.

1 The sun came up just as I was approaching these woods.

2 A few minutes later, the sunlight was positively illuminating the trees and shrubs. The light really was this yellow.

3 Last year’s leaves still hold appeal for me. Here are some submerged under water.

4 This photo is from an age ago: March 1, but it was taken on our premises and seems to fit this collection.

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This is either a heath or a heather, sprinkled with snow—the kind that looks like miniature snow balls.

8 We’re enjoying the last few weeks of being able to see the straw colors of old weeds. Soon all will be green. It’s a trade off.

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10 These are cattails and duckweed in a vernal pool. It’s where the spring peepers most like to hang out these days, when it’s warm enough for them.

11 This is Green Pond, one of more than six ponds on the property. It’s hard to say how many there are. Some are not named, and some may be considered too small to count as real ponds.

12 My camera and Lightroom said that this is an overexposed photograph of Meadow Pond.

13 My camera and Lightroom said that this is a properly exposed photograph of Meadow Pond. I think I like the overexposure better.

14 Here is another view of Meadow Pond.

15 Headed home one day after photographing around the property, I found a red-winged blackbird singing from a flowering maple tree.

 


Revisiting the Kipton Grain Elevator in 2020


March 22, 2020

The Kipton grain elevator series started October 24, 2014. Last Sunday I went back to Kipton. Among the grain-elevator ruins a local farmer has erected some new silos and paraphernalia, but those aren’t what interested me during this trip. I’d love to show you close-up details of many of these photographs, but that would make this post ridiculously long. I restrained myself to one, #22. Tell me if there are any other photos whose details you would like to see, and I’ll put them in the Other Files section of the blog.

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From the Archives of 2001 and 2002


March 15, 2010

Not having any new photographs to show, I went through my photographs of 2001 and 2002 today hoping to find something shareworthy. I found only one from 2001 (the turkey-tail fungus) and 14 from 2002. It was frustrating to see many photographs that might have been good if only I’d framed them better. Even more photographs were images of interesting things rather than interesting images of things. Ah, well, photograph and learn. These were all taken with a Sony Cybershot DSC-F707. You may have seen some of them in earlier blog posts.

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A Trip through Archived Ladders


March 8, 2020

The last few blog posts have included photographs of ladders. With ladders on my mind I took a tour of my archives this week.

1 The first three photographs are of a ladder attached to a diesel tank in Cortez, Florida. This one is from April 2014.

This and the next photo are from April 2012.

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4 This January 2010 photo is also from Cortez, but I can’t place where in any greater detail.

5 This ladder photograph, circa September 2013, is of the old Kipton, Ohio, grain elevator.

6 This photo was taken in March 2005 in a Sarasota, Florida, alley.

7 I took this December 2012 photograph in an old building in Sarasota’s Rosemary District that my friend Janet and I snuck into.

8 I took this photo in May 2006 during the hanging of the quilt show Artist As Quiltmaker in Oberlin, Ohio.

9 These are apple-picking ladders photographed August 2013 on Garfield Road, Henrietta Township, Ohio.

10 I took the last four photographs in our “front yard” on Garfield Road. This is the peach-tree area of the orchard in May 2004.

11 I think this is a pear tree—unless it’s an apple tree—in November 2003.

12 These are persimmon trees in November 2015.

13 Here are the same trees three days later, photographed about the same time of day in different weather.


More Wandering around Downtown Oberlin, February 2020


February 16, 2020

Last Sunday I wandered around downtown Oberlin again. Four of the photographs in today’s post are variations on ones I’d taken during previous downtown wanderings. It’s fun for me to compare the new with the old photos, and on the chance it might be fun for you, I’ve included the old ones here.

1 The old ticket booth of the Apollo Theater, photo taken last Sunday

2 The old ticket booth of the Apollo Theater, photo taken April 30, 2017

3 The old ticket booth of the Apollo Theater, photo taken last Sunday

4 The old ticket booth of the Apollo Theater, photo taken May 29, 2017

5 I wonder how many of you are able to identify this nicely rusted object.

6 Backside of storefronts, photo taken last Sunday

7 Backside of storefronts, photo taken April 30, 2017

8 Alley still life, photo taken last Sunday

8 Alley still life, photo taken November 21, 2018

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10 Tree shadows on old painted wall sign, photo taken last Sunday

11 Tree and old painted wall sign, photo taken May 5, 2018

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Disappointment at Mill Hollow Bacon Woods Park


January 19, 2020

We locals just call it Mill Hollow, but where I went with my new friend Rebecca two weeks ago is officially called Mill Hollow Bacon Woods Park. It was another toe-freezing day, and perhaps if I hadn’t felt physically uncomfortable, I’d have seen more. But as you’ll find out if you read the words below the last few photographs below, there was another reason to be disappointed.

1 Now this was fun—seeing evidence of three kinds of precipitation throughout our walk.

2 And this old dead tree kept both of us fascinated for quite some time.

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6 Another dead tree made me think of Chinese scroll paintings of mountains and trees.

7 And I enjoyed seeing the verticality of the woods interrupted by twisting wild-grape vines.

8 But in a landscape colored mostly like this . . .

9 . . . it was a special treat to see rows and rows of large red hedges.

10 They were even along a temporary pond whose water I’m sure was colored by iron deposits precipitated by the iron bacteria.

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13 Alas, as I found out later from my botanist husband, this beauty belongs to the rampantly invasive Japanese knotweed. Enjoyment cancelled.


Prowling around Oberlin’s New Theater Buildings


January 12, 2010

For some time I’d been watching the Eric Baker Nord Performing Arts Annex—an annex to Oberlin College’s Hall Auditorium—as it was being built. The copper-tile roof often beckoned, but somehow I never managed to bring my camera over to the building, and I was totally oblivious to the next-door Kander Theater. Today, in subfreezing temperatures, I fixed that. I also revisited a dumpster I’d photographed in the past and made my acquaintance with a new one. Old fall leaves rounded out the morning’s explorations. The sun was playing with me, one minute hiding behind clouds and the next barreling through at full blast. It made for unpredictable camera settings and varied looks to photos sometimes taken seconds apart. At 8:06 PM my feet are still cold, but I don’t regret my foray.

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Oberlin in Sunshine


January 5, 2020

Two days before I photographed Oberlin in fog, I was happily running around my neighborhood photographing Oberlin in sunshine. In my memory there is not much sunshine in Oberlin winters, and I wanted to seize the day—especially because it had been cold enough for ice to form on the ponds.

1 What photographer can ignore an S-curve? I wonder if the curve here has to do with the varying depth of water in the pond.

2 The black things are almost-holes in the ice. Can someone tell me—or guess—how they form?

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5 Are bubbles in the ice caused by decaying vegetation beneath that is releasing methane? Or maybe living plants that are releasing oxygen?

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7 Sycamores always stand out, especially against a blue sky.

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12 The woods were aglow with leaf lights.

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Oberlin in Fog


December 29, 2019

Tuesday Oberlin was draped in glorious fog. I got home from working out, and although it was already past nine o’clock, the fog I’d seen on the way to the fitness center was still hanging around. I couldn’t resist. Walking around my neighborhood, I was sure the fog would lift momentarily. But for two and a half hours I revelled in the stuff, which lasted well past dinnertime.

 

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2 Sycamore

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4 This and the next two photographs are of what is known as Wildflower Hill.

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7 Rock Pond

8 Why it’s called Rock Pond

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10 Maybe winter is more colorful than winter is generally given credit for.

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16 Marsh-Mallow (Althaea officinalis) in Winter


Wandering in Sunny Ohio


December 22, 2019

Last Sunday may have been sunny (yay!), but it was cold. For most of the time I was out, I shot from the car window. It began to warm a bit toward noon, and I ventured out to see what I could see better on foot.

1 Some trees almost beg to have their portrait taken.

2 I have a small collection of lone trees in farmers’ fields. See Cowshade for Ghosts.

3 I don’t see many cows in my peregrinations. But this sweet lady posed nicely for me.

4 As she approached the fence, a few of her friends joined her.

5 And then a few more . . .

6 And a few more . . .

7 Soon the whole gang was there. Until they became bored and drifted away.

8 I got out of the car to catch this millstone. I assume the grooves are from grinding grain. Many people around here display these stones in their yards. I’m glad they do.

9 This is the side that first attracted me.

10 I was happy to see that the coloration was lichens rather than paint.

11 The bits of color on this old metal post could be paint, but I rather think they’re layers of rust.

12 This is part of an old guard rail, I think.

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14 The new guard rail is attached to an older post.

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17 Walking back to the car, I saw where someone had lost their pull-tab collection.


A Sunny December Day at Schoepfle Garden


December 15, 2019

It was cold, but the sun was shining when I went back to Schoepfle Garden last Sunday morning. My toes felt frozen by the time I turned toward home, but I had had a delightful time poking around the garden. It was fun to photograph ice; I’m usually in warmer climes at this time of the year and don’t see much of it. The color of the river was unusual, clear at the margins, murky green toward the middle, and in some places blue, reflecting sky.

1 Sycamores like to grow right on the edges of the river.

2 Another, older, sycamore: I was taken by how fiercely it clung to the shore.

3 Day-lily leaves die so gracefully—

4 as do some palm fronds (photographed in Florida in February).

The shale shoreline always gets to me. Here is it graced by leaves, mostly oak, and what I think is frozen foam.

6 These water-lily leaves in the Front Pond were surrounded by ice that was freezing in interesting ways.

7 Ice was forming in similar patterns in other parts of the garden. This is water in what I call the Peace Pool.

8 The water flow was so slow that ice even formed on the edges of the river.

9 Water, now frozen, filled a groove in the shale shore at one of my favorite spots.

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Walking in Schoepfle Garden, November 2019


December 8, 2019

It was cold and dreary last Sunday. I missed being out with the camera, though, so I drove out to Schoepfle Garden. My favorite time to take photographs is in the morning, but it wasn’t a good time for me that day. Arriving at 3:30, I had only an hour before the park closed. It gets dark early in northern Ohio, and I had unfounded hopes that I’d have some interesting light before it was time to leave. Instead, the sun never peeped out, as it does on some cloudy days just before sunset. But. I was out in nature, and I had my camera. That combination gave me all I needed. I noticed trees I’d never really looked at before. The first three photographs here attest to how one of them fascinated me. The lack of foliage everywhere meant I could look down from the cliff to the river and see its course far better than when leaves still abounded. Other treasures found me, too.

1 This tree has been through a lot. I was sure it was dead.

2 So I looked up, expecting to see only more trunk. Hah! The tree was not dead. What a trouper!

3 Do you know Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree? This is a giving tree: Algae, a woodpecker hole, and the trails of bark beetles testify to its generosity.

4 You know how you hear an unfamiliar word and for days afterwards you hear that word over and over? Overhearing people talk earlier in the week about Winterberry trees, I wondered what they looked like. Days later I took this photograph, then read the identifying tag: Ilex serrata, Winterberry.

5 According to its tag, this is a specimen of Cornus kousa, Kousa Dogwood “Milky Way.” I wonder if “milky way” refers to the candy bar. Where the outer bark has flaked off, the next layer resembles the nougat of a Milky Way candy bar. Ohhh, that’s probably just me; I loved Milky Ways when I was a kid. Probably someone thought the flowers and bracts among the leaves looked like stars in the sky.

6 The Back Pond, focussing on the tree reflections

7 The Back Pond, focussing on leaves in the water. If you follow the Back Pond link, you may be happy—as I am—to know that the eagle has been removed. But now they’ve added a second aerator. (?????)

8 This old willow frequently draws my attention. (See the next five photographs from previous months and years.)

9 The willow, April 17, 2016

10 The willow, April 17, 2016

11 The willow, March 26, 2018

12 The willow, April 14, 2018

13 The willow, May 27, 2019

14 Looking downriver last Sunday

15 Looking upriver last Sunday

16 Beach leaves hold on long after oak and maple leaves have carpeted the forest floor.

17 The appearance of Table Rock always changes between my visits.

18