November 18, 2019
This post—a continuation of yesterday’s—is about the waterfall David and I visit when we walk downriver in northern Ohio’s Vermilion River, which we do most Septembers.
Update of November 22, 2019: In the Comments section, Steve Gingold asked if I’d thought of stitching together photographs 6 and 7. Look below photograph 7 to see how that worked.
1 This photograph is from August 2006. I had heard about a waterfall not far from Schoepfle Garden that could be accessed from the river. Here is my first view of it. As pretty as this small waterfall was, I was a little disappointed.
2 David thought there might be more, so he clambered up the cliff to have a look.
3 This year, when I saw the base of the cliff, I was not disappointed because I knew what was coming.
4 I could happily linger here.
5 This was our destination. From the top of the cliff to the pool, the water falls about 20 feet. It’s not spectacular as waterfalls go, but it counts as a real waterfall to me.
6 and 7 stitched together in Photoshop, per Steve Gingold’s suggestion. It almost works.
June 16, 2019
Yesterday I followed and unfollowed paths around my immediate neighborhood. I found baby oak leaves overlooking tall grasses; a willow tree behind goldenrod plants and before cattails sprinkled with pseudacris; a path through a wooded area dotted with daisies; very young films of Leptothrix discophora, some in front of a small outcrop of sedge; a duckweed-covered pond rising to meet hanging branches of another oak tree; and more duckweed in a different pond in the rain. I also took another stab at Intentional Camera Movement.
April 21, 2019
This collection of photographs begins, in a way, where the last post left off: with trees of life. The plants growing on these trees seem a little different from the ones shown in the last post—perhaps because they immediately border the water. Two photographs separate the trees of life from reflections in the creek: one I think of as essence of tiger—a small stream on its way to the creek—and an arrangement of dead leaves.
December 23, 2018
On December 8, shortly after arriving in Sarasota for the winter, I took my first trip to South Lido Park this season. This is perhaps my favorite park in the county, largely because it contains a variety of ecosystems. The bonus is that it’s only about 15 minutes from home. On my first visit of the season there I always search with apprehension to see if a little stump I’ve named R2D2 is still standing. Every year, I think it has disappeared, only to realize it’s only further down the path. And so it went this year. R2D2 (in the first four photos) seems more colorful than it has been in the past, but that may be my imagination. The fifth photo is probably the first of others you’ll see over the next couple of months showing a dead sabal palm leaf, which I find more graceful in senescence than on the tree. The sixth photograph is another perennial favorite: backlit leaves of the seagrape bush. The last photograph shows my photographing friend Lynda and me.
December 13, 2018
When I went dumpster hunting last month (see the small haul), I stopped by the old bank drive-through that has entertained me so often. I’d never been there in freezing weather, and icy new appearances awaited me. The last three photographs are what I will enter into the FAVA Six-State Photography show early next year, hoping one will be juried in.
November 13, 2018
A week ago Friday I was in the parking lot of our nearby drug store, waiting for my passenger to finish her shopping. It’s boring just to wait for someone. Enter my iPhone! It had just finished raining. What lucky timing. These are not Leptothrix discophora films but thin films of oil or gasoline on the puddles, which is what L. discophora films are often taken for. You can see why. Both exhibit color interference, also called thin-film interference. These films—unlike films of L. discophora—have no fracturing. (Compare with images in the previous post.)
Fabian Oefner is an artist who uses thin films of oil in his work.
November 3, 2018
This summer and fall have seen far too much rain to produce much in the way of colorful Leptothrix discophora films. But I miss them, so this post delves into photographs I took of this evidence of iron bacteria along Ohio’s Vermilion River between 2008 and 2010, before I’d started the blog. Some of these photos may be repeats of other dives into the archives. I hope that since I can’t remember if I’ve shown them, you can’t either.
August 12, 2018
Walking back up the stairs from the place of dark rocks and reflecting pools, you notice that the trail’s low wooden guard rail could very easily be breached and that you could, if you wanted, walk over to where Cucumber Run runs over the edge of the cliff. Hmmm.
August 11, 2018
Here you can see the Youghiogheny River in the distance, muddy from recent rains.
August 10, 2018
Strictly speaking, this photograph does not show the falls but the pooled and slowly moving water of Cucumber Run between the falls and the Youghiogheny River. The colors in the water are reflected trees and sky.