"Nokomis" in the Ojibwe language means "Daughter of the Moon."
Some of the snowy landscapes from our walk around the shoreline the other day look vaguely moon-like. I don't think that's what they had in mind, but it makes a nice segue.
The water has receded, and the detritus is left frozen in place from the fall.
The ice is groaning out in the middle of the lake and crunching around the edges. Happy stops and give a long look out to the middle once in a while. I can hear some of the cracks, I'm sure he hears more than me.
The sun is always so low in the sky, even during midday. The solstice is coming up fast. The longest night of the year.
Not all of the lake is iced over yet, and what has iced is dicey as hell. Walking on the ice around some of the trees that blocked our shoreline route was probably not a good decision. No one went through, but much cracking and sagging had us scampering back as fast as possible.
The sun is always so low in the sky, even during midday. The solstice is coming up fast. The longest night of the year.
Not all of the lake is iced over yet, and what has iced is dicey as hell. Walking on the ice around some of the trees that blocked our shoreline route was probably not a good decision. No one went through, but much cracking and sagging had us scampering back as fast as possible.
The difference between "shade ice" and "sun ice" was enormous, even though it was still 18 degrees outside.
I noticed a lot of green algae that was iced in the clear stuff in the shadows. Seems like it should be too late in the year to have supported that green stuff. Now it's making the ice like Swiss cheese where the sun hits it.
The wind combs and stretches the powdery snow until your tracks disappear.
They say the Inuit have over thirty words for snow. That's not enough. It's like a living thing that changes slowly as the day goes by, like a plant or the clouds.
I was thinking the other day that being able to shoot black & white from the camera let's me take a scene that I wouldn't even consider shooting with color and somehow validate it with black & white. Things that were two-dimensional become three-dimensional, and textures that would be hidden because you are too busy being distracted by nearby colors are more noticeable.
Sharon tells me she doesn't favor silhouettes. I do. Maybe it's the opposite of the above argument. You get to make something three-dimensional into something two-dimensional.
I noticed a lot of green algae that was iced in the clear stuff in the shadows. Seems like it should be too late in the year to have supported that green stuff. Now it's making the ice like Swiss cheese where the sun hits it.
The wind combs and stretches the powdery snow until your tracks disappear.
They say the Inuit have over thirty words for snow. That's not enough. It's like a living thing that changes slowly as the day goes by, like a plant or the clouds.
I was thinking the other day that being able to shoot black & white from the camera let's me take a scene that I wouldn't even consider shooting with color and somehow validate it with black & white. Things that were two-dimensional become three-dimensional, and textures that would be hidden because you are too busy being distracted by nearby colors are more noticeable.
Sharon tells me she doesn't favor silhouettes. I do. Maybe it's the opposite of the above argument. You get to make something three-dimensional into something two-dimensional.
The word silhouette is an eponym of Etienne de Silhouette, a finance minister who in 1759 imposed harsh economic demands upon the French people. Because de Silhouette enjoyed making cut paper portraits, his name became synonymous with these portraits and with anything done or made cheaply. Prior to the advent of photography, silhouette profiles cut from black card were the cheapest way of recording a person's appearance.
These days with the sun so low, if I couldn't take backlit shots I'd have to throw out half my stuff because it would have my own shadow in it.
Unless I pulled one of these:
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