These leaves turn sunlight into acorns. (read more)
By Scott Shephard
I decided that after posting three black and white photos, I needed to add a splash of color to my blog. And, after yesterday’s fairly heavy subject, I decided to offer something “fresh.” So here are oak leaves aglow in the morning sun in the Black Hills. I took this photo two weeks ago and I would guess that the leaves are about a month old. And they are hard at work.
The word that springs to mind when I look at this picture is “photosynthesis,” which has always intrigued me. In the case of these leaves, they ultimately turn sunlight into acorns, which, when they aren’t feeding squirrels and chipmunks, are making new oak trees. A leaf may be nice to look at but don’t forget that it’s also a machine.
Ponder that for a while, my friendly reader. . . .
These small flowers are dangerous non-conformists.
By Scott Shephard
As I look out of my office window, I am more conscious than ever of the fact that the building covenants in our neighborhood are what I am calling “anti-color.” That translates as “earth tones” which translates as “dull.”
Add heavy clouds, light haze and mostly brown grass to the nearly colorless painting schemes and you have a prescription for the early spring South Dakota blues.
A pill might help. But how about taking in bright, purple crocus flowers, which seem to flaunt the color covenants in our part of town instead? You have to get down on your hands and knees to see them as they are pictured here. But why not bow down to this wonderful little iconoclast?
Spring has sprung, the grass has ris, I wonder . . . (read more)
By Scott Shephard
When Deb takes a photo of mine off the wall and puts it on the floor, it is her way of saying . . . . well, that she doesn’t want the picture on the wall.
She rarely does this and recently what she took down was my “Winter Triptych” which I’m sure she likes but which tends to remind us of something most South Dakotans want to forget: winter.
So I made what I am officially calling my “Spring/Summer Triptych.” It’s a creative title don’t you think? And for those wanting names for the flowers, from top to bottom, they are lily, crocus and flowering crab apple. I offer nothing fancy today; but I hope it is optimistic.
It’s no secret that I like the look of bare trees. . .
By Scott Shephard
I guess I can’t help it. I like to photograph bare trees – whether dying, dead or, as in the case of this massive oak in Maryland, about to leaf out. It’s that brachiation that enthralls me. ( I just used two fancy words to pay homage to all of the English teachers that helped shape me. 🙂 )
The so-called “golden hour” is the perfect time to capture a portrait of a venerable oak . . . .
By Scott Shephard
The hour just before sunset is called “the golden hour” because the light is soft and warm. Portrait photographers love this time of day but so do landscape photographers. In the case of this beautiful tree in the Maryland countryside, I was there at the perfect time. There was no wind, it was warm and, fortunately, the light was excellent.
Withered sunflowers wait for the winter ice to melt.
2014 03-15 Ankle Deep by Watertown, South Dakota, photographer Scott Shephard
Twelve minutes after I took the photo you saw yesterday, the road dipped through a low spot where sunflowers that hadn’t gotten harvested last fall stood in frozen water. I had almost driven past when I stopped, backed up about 1/4 mile and studied these sunflowers. The dark blue color of the ice, the orange tones of the heads and the way the sunflower stalks were reflected in the ice are what stopped me. I probably took 15 photos but this one ended up being the “keeper.”
You may think it strange of me to anthropomorphize* sunflowers. But to me, they look like crowds of frail, old people standing with drooping heads. And, more than that, I am struck by the juxtaposition** that sunflowers represent: they are one of the most beautiful South Dakota crops in their prime but one of the homeliest just before harvest. Is there some kind of metaphor here about you and me? Who knows. I just hope I never have to stand in frozen water. . . .
What do you find when you turn north off of the interstate at Wasta, SD?
By Scott Shephard
Wasta, SD, is a a very small town along I-90 in the western part of our state. Perhaps it is best known for the rest stops that are near the town. And on a busy summer day, I would guess that the population of the interstate rest stops is greater than that of Wasta.
Besides the rest areas, Wasta has caught my attention for two other reasons. The first is the Cheyenne River, which flows under the interstate, near the rest stops and by the city. The Cheyenne was once a great river that carved a fairly broad valley as it made its way to the Missouri River, which divides our state into what we call “West River” and “East River.” These days, the river is often just a brown stream. And the paradox of a relative trickle flowing through and expansive valley fascinates me.
The other thing about Wasta is that if you look north as you pass by interstate exit, there is a road that rises above the town in an intriguing curve and then disappears. Two days ago, I had driven a few miles east of Wasta when I thought, “Why not?” I found a turn-around, exited at Wasta and headed up the hill and a journey that took me places I had never been before.
Today’s photo is the first one I took on my backroads travels. Some might find this scene a little too colorless, but to me, that’s where the beauty lies. I’ll be posting more of my travels this past week over the next few days.
(In case you’re curious, here’s the route I took home from the cabin. The normal, fastest route to the cabin is about 320 miles. This path home covered 470 miles. So I only went out of my way by 150 miles. It was worth it.)
