| I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. - Joyce Kilmer |
Click on any of the thumbnails to see the full size photo. File sizes for each full size photo are listed at the end of the description or beneath each thumbnail.
 | Last month it was the Dogwood´s turn to shine. This month, they look on while the Mountain Laurel at their feet have their turn at glory. Throughout it all, giant boulders grow their moss and lichens and add their own subtle touch to the scene. |  |
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 | Bits of moss, a wild rose, and creeping vines crawl gently across this granite giant while lacy fern caress its sides. Do you suppose this behemoth, forced here against its will by ancient glaciers, feels more at ease with all this loving attention? I think so. (69 K) | |
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| That oak tree really should have picked a better place to grow. Gnarly old pine trees look fine growing out of a rock cut like that, but a majestic oak belongs out in the middle of a field, dwarfing everything around it. And silly ole me really ought to invest in the wide angle lens attachment for this camera instead of wasting hours pasting together two pictures. But you have to admit, it works surprisingly well. (42 K) |
 | Now, how do you suppose a piece of driftwood ends up on the shore of a lake several feet above the highest level the water has ever reached? Perhaps some fisherman snagged it with a lure and pulled it up on shore and left it there. Yes, that must be it! (50 K) | |
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| Wouldn´t you just love to wander out across that meadow? I´ll bet there are dozens of different wildflowers hiding out there in the tall grasses. And exploring all those dark places under the trees would definitely be called for, just to see what´s in there. Of course, we´d also have to find out what´s over that hill. Perhaps there´s a stream to go wading in, or an even prettier view than this one. At the very least, that far off little knoll would be a perfect place for a picnic. Then we could lie on our blanket in the sun and watch the ants carry off our crumbs. (32 K) |
 | No worries tonight for this farmer. The sun´s going down and there´s not a cloud in the sky. His first cutting of hay will be safe from rain until it has time to dry enough to be baled. (33 K) | |
 | This little pond is so small that it doesn´t really have a name, but it´s visited every spring by a Blue Heron (who is determined that I will not take his picture) so I call it Heron Pond. |  |
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| There are much bigger lakes in Sterling Forest, with, I suppose, more majesty than this little puddle, but none with as much interest packed into such a small space. There´s the Blue Heron, of course, and wood ducks and geese. Redwing Blackbirds nest in the reeds at the swampy edges, and there is very often a positively huge snapping turtle sunbathing on the rocks those geese are perched on (left). There are frogs and snakes and the evening song of the crickets will often drown out my car radio as I pass by on the way home at night. And the water lilies are so beautiful that I´ve often wished I could walk on water, just so I could see them up close. | ||
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| I pass this farm every day on the way to work and I don´t know why for sure, but I´ve always loved it. Perhaps it´s the neatness of all the buildings, or that tree line across the top of the hill, or those horizontal terraces, or just the combination of them all, but I knew it would be one of the first places I stopped to photograph. Unfortunately, when you stop at the best place to take the picture, there´s a divided four-lane highway and another two-lane road between you and the farm. By lifting the camera up a bit and using the Zoom feature, I was able to get rid of the four-lane highway, but the farm is so big that it was impossible to get the full effect in a single picture. So I took two, being as careful as possible to move the camera from left to right for the second shot without wandering up or down. Then, after reducing the size of each picture, I was able to copy them into a Photoshop document and carefully overlap them. I was really amazed at how well the whole thing worked and there were only a few pixels in the clouds that needed a bit of "smudging". Not bad for a first attempt at digitally "doctoring" an image, if I do say so myself. |
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| Any other morning when I was going to bed as the birds were starting to sing and the sun was coming up, there would be deer slowly munching their way from right to left across the farmer´s field behind my house. They´re nearly always there and they´re used to me watching them out the window. They barely even glance my way after all these years. But this morning, as I stood with camera poised for two whole hours, all I saw was the fog turn maroon as the sun came up.. but no deer ever strolled into the opening between the trees. Perhaps they had decided that only fools were up and about on such a foggy morning. Perhaps they were right. | ||
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| For several weeks in May, I´d have to close my eyes to not see a Dogwood blooming on the last bit of my drive to work. The Dogwood flank the edge of the forest in some areas as if they´d been planted there purposely. Then again, perhaps they were. Who am I to know Mother Nature´s purpose? | ||
 | There´s somthing wonderfully relaxing about looking out across a lake that´s become mirror smooth. You get to enjoy water, sky, and a double dose of mountains all at once and never have to move a muscle. |  |
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| How could anyone mind the trip to work when they have scenery this beautiful to travel through? Even after driving this same route for twenty-four years, I still love every mile of it. Each season has its own unique qualities.. the lush green of spring, the haze of summer, the brilliant colors of fall, and then, my favorite time, the snow of winter. The only thing that could possibly make the drive more enjoyable would be to have a chauffeur so that I could ogle the sights all the way instead of having to pay attention to the road. | ||
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| These views are from my bedroom windows, out across a farmer´s hay field, and my little storage barn. They were taken on one of those wonderfully soft and dreamy, misty, gray days that just make you want to snuggle with a good book and a warm fuzzy blanket. The whole landscape takes on a quiet gentleness that just begs you to speak in whispers. | ||
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