I visited Second Beach on the Olympic Peninsula in April. It was my first visit to this picturesque stretch of the Pacific Northwest. Heavy waves rolled in with sunset and I had a great time framing them amid the sea stacks, along the beach and against the rocks. When the sun was sinking into the water, one wave exploded inside the keyhole. The silhouette of the spray had me imagining figures and forms. It was a cool moment to recall a great evening on the ocean.
(Please click on any image to open a separate window to see these panoramas in a larger version)
I have been enjoying creating panoramas by merging a number of shots into one wide image. The workshop that I went to on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington recently brought that approach back in to my plans. It’s been a while since I shot them with any regularity. The rainforests there are well into spring and were amazing to photograph for panoramic concepts. Forests have incredible depth, details and patterns and that was a focus while I was in the Pacific Northwest.
When I returned home, a cold weather pattern was knocking around Alberta. When a snowstorm blew in, I headed out to photograph the forest and see if any pano opportunities jumped out. The storm grew into a blizzard. It was cool to have the increasing density of snow as a variable to the images. We’ve had a few really good days in the week afterwards. Before the next one comes in this weekend.
I had a great day with the mothers in my life. I hope you have enjoyed the same, great memories or are the recipient of a lot of heartfelt thank you. You have the privilege to have such influence over your (and personally, on my) children. It is lucky for them it is so very well placed. Happy Mother’s Day.
When I was on the west coast a couple of weeks ago, I spent one morning photographing along the Port Angeles shoreline. It had been a little while since I have been on the ocean and I was hypnotized by the ebb and flow of the waves along the beach. I always am.
Greedily, Old Man Winter has snuck past Spring once more and released another day-long blizzard across southern Alberta. The snow fell in thick flakes, speckling the sky then blurring the forest as it neared the ground. I’m looking forward to greenery, especially given how lovely Seattle was when I was there last week, but this was a storm which cast a beautiful spell over the landscape west of Bragg Creek.
A sketch of downtown while I rode the Wenatchee ferry across Elliott Bay.
I’m in Seattle for a dear friend’s photography workshop on the Olympic Peninsula this weekend. I was lucky enough to wander the gardens and forest around his wonderful home yesterday. Coming from Alberta, the blossoms, warmth and greenery was almost a shock to me. Certainly a glimpse of a future we will hopefully see within a couple of weeks. The light on the bark of this cedar danced well with the abstracted shapes in the background. Those were thrown out of focus by the a shallow depth of field using a 24mm lens at f/2.0.
This moose was grazing in a marsh west of Bragg Creek when I drove by. She stared at me for a minute, trotted through brambles a bit and then stared back to me again.
April 24th update: Thank you to The Mysterious Blogger for suggesting the title of this post – now updated. And, to P.grover for improving my/our understanding of moose and threats to their health.
Spring has returned the robins the fields and forests around Bragg Creek. I found this one stirring up the leaves below these trees. She darted between the trunks and then flew up into the branches. The diffused background from a narrow depth of field reminded me of a watercolor painting. The monochromatic palette in the bark and dull yellow grass both warmed a little with the morning sun. Her orange belly was a welcome splash of bright color.
My family spent a few days in Radium at the end of March. I had not been that way since last fall. Driving through the Sinclair Canyon’s narrow opening into the Columbia Valley this time, the steep rock walls grabbed my attention.
I went there early on three of the four mornings to play with those solid forms. Lights from passing traffic traced bright lines through the long exposures.
The last morning was the earliest I arrived – a little after 4am. I had some ideas for images with star trails through the gap in the canyon. The clouds were not supportive of those ideas. I watched them knit together and block the night sky as I was setting up. Those ideas will get another chance later this spring I think.