More Orchids to Share

Concluding my exhibit of notable orchids from the US Botanic Garden's open  house, here are six images of orchids that convey the magical variety of forms and coloration found in their greenhouses.

Some are tiny and subtle like these blooms.

Others are richly colored, yet still small.

The variety of colors includes a brilliant cardinal red like these.

 

Among the  most striking were the hanging orchids such as this Dendrobium.  They provided a challenge to compose without including the overhead structures of the building. These buds actually began to open while I was there.

 

Here's another hanging variety that returns to the softer colors and textures.

Saving one of the most striking orchid for the last, here is a spider-like bloom which I believe is of the genus Rhynchoiaelia.

Reviewing these reminds me to put a note on my calendar to look for the announcement of the open house next winter.  There will surely be some different orchids in bloom, and some new ways to look at the above.  This open house is exactly what I needed to break out of the winter mindset and prepare for spring.

Best regards,

Paul Schmitt

KISS at Niagara Falls

I was at the annual convention of the Niagara Regional Camera Clubs this weekend. The meetings (and lodging) are right at the American side of the falls, literally a five minute walk.  Niagara Falls has this night-time illumination every evening.  It draws a lot of people, even on a frigid night. Ignoring strong winds and sub-freezing temperatures, I took my tripod and camera down to test a lens that I am considering to buy.  The scene looks like this:

Nikon D800,  48 mm lens;  8 sec. at f/8.

The lights, sitting on the Canadian side, cycle through a range of colors.  A typical resulting image of the American Falls is:

So, now, many are saying to themselves some assortment of "ooh" and "aah".   I was pretty happy with the result that night.  But, I recalled a previous time when I walked to the falls in the very early morning when the floodlights were off.  So, I got up and was there at 6:00 am.  The only light was the ambient city lighting reflecting off the low clouds.  Here is what I found:

Absent the strong floodlights, the foreground colors come out nicely and the textures are better.  A vertical image absolutely won me over to the early morning result. 

 

So, you might say that I was reminded of  Keep It Simple, Stupid.  I know the floodlights attract both moths and tourist alike, but predawn is uncrowded and beautiful in a simpler way.  Another bonus was that the wind had subsided and it was definitely easier to keep my hands warm.

Paul 

Just a Few Orchids

Recently, I had the good fortune to attend the annual open house at the US Botanic Gardens in Washington, DC.  Honestly, I spent nearly the entire time in the orchid greenhouses.  I'll be posting a few of the photos today, and add a few more as time allows.  I honestly don't think any dialogue is necessary when presenting such awesome beauty.  Just enjoy.

Paul Schmitt

 

All images made with Nikon D300S, 105 mm Nikkor Micro, SB800 fill flash, handheld

CM Ducks?

The old joke has one southern gent saying "C M Ducks", to which his friend argues "M R Knot".  The first counters "S M are,  C M Wangs".  Well, I just love the splendid variety of plumage that our ducks display in breeding season.  So, their most colorful appearances are seen now and it is time to get active with the camera.  I just got back from the Chesapeake Bay region where I worked on adding to my duck images. I think you'll enjoy these few examples.

I've wanted to get close to Canvasback Ducks without any success for some time, and that all changed at my first stop where the ducks were very close. The eyes capture my attention.

I've photographed the American Wigeon before, but I am always discovering new ways to love this dainty little duck.  Note the beautiful feather details along the back and the neck patterning.

Another duck that is in some ways similar to the Canvasback is the Redhead.  Beautiful plumage, brilliant eyes and a distinctive blue and black bill.

None of the above ducks were plentiful, but the Lesser Scaup was almost as commonplace as the Mallard is in all places.  The difficulty was in finding a single example that was alone, but this one  finally came looking at me.  Again I love the eyes.

All of the above were photographed while out in a strong wind at freezing temperatures, but I was lost in the moment and only realized my hands were very cold after an hour.  It was worth the discomfort.  The cold finally won the day, and we headed for out night's lodging.

A day later, I was shooting from a car and had some protection from the cold except for my left  hand that was outside the window.  The skittish ducks are more comfortable around a vehicle, and this allowed me to get my very first images of a long wished for subject- a male Hooded Merganser displaying to a female.

There is more to the story about Hooded Mergansers, but I will save that for a later post.

Last year, I finally got good images of the stylish Pintail Duck, but I still wanted more. On the last evening as the sun set, this pair came screeching in to a protective marsh area.

I'll  share more photos as I have time.

Regards,

Paul

Winter's Bucket List

This is not about that ominous "bucket list".  I intend to keep going for a long time, but each winter I do make a sort of "seasonal bucket list" made up of those objectives that always get ignored in warmer seasons.  So my list includes a few books, exploring some new photo techniques and planning my photo travel for the coming year.  This still leaves some time for a few photo outings when the weather allows.

So, in between reading Charles Dickens and Richard Dawkins, I've been exploring some creative applications in my smartphone. The first iPhone app I've looked at is Laminar.  Had it for nearly a year, and had not been able to understand it until a new version was introduced.

The base photo was taken with the front facing iPhone 4 camera and sent to MobilMonet --another pretty neat iPhone app-- where I modified it so the background is monochromatic.

Next I slipped out to my frozen yard and snapped a photo of some dormant grass.  This grass image was put in Laminar as a base layer and the portrait was set on top with a bit of transparency. Seems to capture my thinking about the pause in the plant world.

 Our home has a sun room which is a nice sanctuary on winter days; I can sit there and watch the weather in between pages of a good book.  Right now, one of Pam's orchids has come into bloom bringing real cheer to each winter day. I am just fascinated by orchids.  They are so sensuous in both form and color.  How could I not photograph this? And then, how could I help but explore how to create a greater interpretation? 

Two layers processed on iPhone4.  Lower layer is monochromatic close up.  Upper layer is reduced in opacity to reveal the lower layer.  Laminar app.  Photogene app used to optimize each basic image.

There have been nice days to get out. Recently, we drove up to Sodus Bay on Lake Ontario.  The lighthouse out on the jetty showed the result of high winds and extreme cold in the form of heavy ice.

Initial image from iPhone4, edited in Lightroom4.  As good as the iPhone apps are, they cannot match the result in Lightroom4. And, should the reader get extremely impressed with the smartphone photo capability, here is what my Nikon DSLR gave me at the same location.

The color sensitivity and zoom lens just allowed greater flexibility in matching what the viewer actually saw.  Both nice images, but the iPhone has fewer options for composing the scene.

There is one very nice capability with the iPhone plus versatile apps, and that is exploring strongly interpretive images that step away from traditional "reality". (If there really is such a thing as reality.) So, the creative mind can run wild combining textures and colors.  This is a layering of two wildly dissimilar images - dried winter grasses and thin ice forms. 

So, this is my final post of February.  The bucket list is pretty much completed, and I am ready to burst out with images of birds and blooms. 

Paul Schmitt

 

Falling for Ice

What's to be done when the winter turns bitter cold and the river is filling with ice?  I could get caught up on my reading, or home repairs, or just hibernate.  What could get the creative photographer in me to venture out and face the elements?  Why, it's the magical ice sculptures that appear where ever there is falling water.  I've fallen in love with ice falls and don't mind the cold hands or heavy insulated shoes.

Less than an hour from home is the tallest single-drop falls in the eastern United States- Taughannock Falls.  It's a 215 feet drop. It is one of the few waterfalls that can be safely approached in winter.  This is how my iPhone4 recorded a cold morning below the falls.

 

(Technical note:  iPhone 4, Pro HDR app, tripod with Joby tripod adapter)

I have also been fascinated with the tones that are revealed when converting the images to monochrome (black and white) images. The above scene depicts those cold but sunny winter days with a blue sky contrasted by the shaded gorge in subtle colors including green, or all things.  Going to monochome creates a different response if the blue is filtered to darken it.

Now it looks cold and stormy.  I've explored this scene in some detail with my Nikon D800, and find some images are more effective with a slight bit of color.

I feel a chill when I look at this image of a small part of the falls. My mind fills with a replay of  the subtle hiss of the falls. At the same time, some of the scenes in monochrome have a pure feeling like this one. 

I think the monochrome above captures  the contrast of the hard, immoveable ice against a streaming ribbon of falling water flashing into a mist of ice crystals.

One inner voice says to me that winter is the one time of the year when monochrome works consistently, so just forget the color until spring comes along. Another voice says no, you've got color, use it. Maybe you, the viewer, can help me?  Your initial reaction is something I cannot capture myself after looking at these so much. Obviously, I cannot keep showing two versions of the same photo.  That becomes boring.

At left is a color rendering of the falls with the light blue and green tones that are found naturally.  I like the sense of cold that it conveys.  I've set the white on the clean show in the upper left corner.

At the right is the same photo processed into monochrome. I like it also. I see more of the forms in the ice and the falling water.  The stream of water seems to have more power. 

There is my conflict. Which to show?  I've looked at these so much that I cannot capture the initial response of a first time viewer.  Which works best for you?  ... or is it a matter of which works best for different scenes?  I welcome any comments on how you first react to these. They will be sincerely appreciated.

Now, I am also experimenting with another way to look at falling water and ice.  At another little waterfall after dark, I illuminated the totally frozen drop with a blue gel filter on a flashlight.  What could make the scene seem any colder than blue light? It was, in fact, brutally cold on my first trial of this method. A little bit of moonlight came in to make it easier to see what I was doing.

This scene can be rendered in black and white, but it does not have the same cold feeling to me. In grey tones, it seems more about forms than about cold.

I'll be back at this lovely little falls when there is a little more flowing water to see what more can be discovered.

Yes, I've fallen in love with ice's elegant forms and its ability to convey a beautiful side of winter.

Paul Schmitt

Going South for the Winter

It is January. The snow is a hard, crusty boilerplate.  Some houses in the neighborhood have been abandoned temporarily for a few months of living down south.  Similarly, many birds have left us for Central America or even farther south. I am staying here for the most part and hoping winter will be short.  It is all a matter of perspective, as this writer suggests.

To shorten winter, borrow some money due in spring.

                          W. J. Vogel

 
But, following that plan could result in losing some friends.  Better to tough it out. Winter is also a time of solitude, so I'll catch up on reading and other quiet passions.

For these winter months, the woods seem deserted of the springtime song of courting birds and our bird feeders are seeing waves of birds hungrily seeking suet and oil-rich sunflower seeds. These are the hardy ones, or so I presume.  Maybe they are just intent to get the best nesting spot when spring comes?  Somehow, they have evolved to find shelter and food in a time of want. I treasure these few birds. Winter is no time for the weak, whether man or bird.

Foremost among these hardy ones is the Tufted Titmouse, ever shy even in winter.  It waits in a nearby bush for a moment when the feeder is nearly empty, grabs a seed and again takes refuge in the bush to crack open the sunflower seed.  I've tried to get them to take seed from my hand, and they just cannot bring themselves to land even when the feeder is empty.


Another of my favorite visitors is the Black-capped Chickadee. They have none of the shyness of the Tufted Titmouse. While tending a feeder today, it only took them a few minutes to begin feeding out of my hand. They are so light that I felt no sense of weight when one landed.  They are precocious, but also discriminating.  Once in my palm, they pick through the seeds to find the plumpest one.  Didn't you always pick the best apple from the bowl?

Perhaps the Chickadee gives an insight into why some birds remain in winter.  They cannot store up fat and that is a requirement for long distance migration.  So, they stay out of necessity and even have to feed on the foulest day to survive.  None of this implies anything about my neighbors who go south each winter.  Really!


I must also add a third winter hold-out that brings joy to us every time that we see it.  The Northern Cardinal shares the shyness of the Tufted Titmouse, and the reason seems pretty obvious. Even on a gray day, the male's color is rich and lustrous. They are an easily seen target for a hungry hawk.  When I get up at first light, they are always on the feeder at the hour when the brilliant red is hard to see.  The same goes for the evening when they are always last  to leave. When he comes in at midday, he grabs a seed and retreats into the nearby bush, again for safety.

So, these are three of the reliable winter guests at our bird feeder.  All are entertaining, and if not rare, are still savored each January. But, sometimes we also get migrants from even farther north. In 2012, we had a rare influx of Snowy Owls from the high arctic. That caused great excitement  to all who were able to see one of these beautiful big owls. Only a few Snowy Owls were seen in our region and people traveled for hours just to see one.

In 2013, another unusual bird has decided it is "Going South for the Winter".  In years when the spruce or beech seed crop fails, the Common Redpoll abandons the boreal forest of northern Canada and comes south to visit us.  Yes, we are living in this bird's "South".  My reference says it commonly survives to -65° F.  That's real winter.

At first sight, a flock of Redpolls looks like a group of House Finches or common Sparrows.  In fact, it is often in a mixed flock with House Sparrows, Goldfinches and maybe a few Pine Siskins.  Where we were content with one Snowy Owl last winter, our group of Redpolls has swelled on some days to over fifty.  We love to watch them. The brilliant red cap on its head and the light red blush on the male's streaked breast are lovely.

They perch in a wonderful array of attitudes, and never stay in place for long.  Getting them in the camera viewfinder and in sharp focus is a frustrating string of failures with only a few successes.

They can be comical as they skip across the snow, scattering snow crystals.

They are a social bird, and often interact in ways left to human conjecture.

This little red capped bird reminds me that winter has many levels.  The Common Redpoll, like the Snowy Owl, makes me admire how animals somehow survive. They do it in a far simpler (but more desperate) way than we can imagine.  Our hard winter is another's average. Going south for the winter now means something new to me.

Accept winter for the joy that spring will bring. It is the season of perseverance.

Paul Schmitt