2010 - Fini: A December Potpourri

Well, 2010 is coming to a close and I thought I'd get one more post out lest people think I'm dogging it at the end of the year. I'll try to keep it brief since I'm planning to leave in a couple hours and try my hand at shooting the fireworks at Auditorium Shores. Gillian and her friend James have driven down to San Antonio to check out the Alamo and the River Walk.

A few weeks before Gillian flew in from Atlanta I set out scouting the Hill Country for places to take her that she'd never been before. This first picture is a view from the Sunset Deck in the Balcones Canyonlands NWR, Northwest of Austin. The river is the Lake Travis portion of the Colorado River, above Mansfield Dam.

Above is a detail from Karen's dinner table Christmas evening, and below is a Christmas portrait of Mother in Karen's living room.

Gillian flew in on the 27th and a couple of days later while we were driving around, we encountered these peacocks at Mayfield Park, next door to the Austin Museum of Art at Laguna Gloria.

Both Stephen and Karen take art classes there, but it's not a bad place to take pictures either.

This is a view of Westlake Hills across Lake Austin above Tom Miller Dam. I'd never seen it from this viewpoint before, only from atop Mount Bonnell.

This picture of the Austin skyline was taken as we approached Zilker Park from Stratford Dr. I expect to take the photographs of the fireworks tonight from somewhere around here.

This is a view looking north from the pedestrian bridge over Barton Creek, downstream to where it joins Lady Bird Lake.

Since I have no way of knowing whether or not this is a "family" of turtles, I titled this shot "A Turtle Hierarchy". I probably should call it "Gillian's Turtle Hierarchy" since she found the critters on our walk the other day.

Yesterday we went back out to the Balcones Canyonlands to explore a little and we came across these Longhorns just the other side of Cow Creek. Now that's a fine set of horns. It makes me anxious to know how Mack Brown's hunt for coaches is going. . .

One last Christmas message for 2010. This is so Texas! The only thing more Texas would be a muddy F-350 busting out of the brush with a Christmas wreath wired to the grill.

Merry Christmas, Y'all

Merry Christmas, y'all. I enjoyed visiting with many of you during the year and hope I'll have the opportunity to visit more of you in 2011.

For those of you wondering, I haven't given up on this photo blog; I just haven't been very productive lately. Check back occasionally to see if I've gotten off my butt. There'll be a lunar eclipse tonight that I hope to photograph if the thin clouds currently overhead don't interfere. And I've been scouting out scenic locations that Gillian and I will try to visit during her visit the week after Christmas. Beyond that, we'll just have to wait and see.

Have a Wonderful Holiday Season and I hope all of us manage to have a More Prosperous Year in 2011.

Bill Parker
Austin, Texas

Shiloh Battlefield

As I mentioned before, because I had neglected to turn my clock back to central time, I arrived at the battlefield an hour or more before anyone else, including the park rangers. I didn't let that stop me; I just drove through the park trying to follow the prescribed route so I wouldn't miss anything.

The main object of the exercise was photography. I've read enough about Shiloh to have a good handle on what went on. I just wanted to see the park with few people around and take advantage of the early morning light.

The symbolism of the cannons distributed about the park seems at odds with the peace and serenity of the park today, nearly 150 years after the battle.

The log cabin above is Shiloh Church, which gave its name to the battle. Much of the battle took place in the immediate vicinity. The structure was destroyed shortly after the war ended and this cabin was erected on the original site in about 1875. There is a new church nearby begun in 1929; it was completed and dedicated in 1952.

Wandering around as I was, without a map, I apparently missed the road that would've taken me to the bluffs overlooking the Tennessee River. I knew the river was over there on the other side of these trees, but I never found my way over there. But I enjoyed sharing my morning in the park with the many deer and turkeys.

Most of these shots could just have easily been taken at Pea Ridge, Arkansas (Elkhorn Tavern). The Battle of Pea Ridge took place at the same time as Shiloh (in April 1862) about 400 miles west. I visited Pea Ridge early one morning in 2008. My great great grandfather, Samuel Langston, was wounded there on the second day at Pea Ridge.

The cannon shots at these battlefield parks always remind me of my favorite television production ever - Ken Burns' Civil War mini-series. And that, of course, was based on my favorite history book ever - Shelby Foote's Civil War Narrative.

 

I like the monuments which incorporate statuary best, but some of the lesser monuments are equally impressive in their stonework. The wide distribution of the monuments scattered across the large well-manicured acreage of some of the parks emphasizes the immensity of the struggle and honors the participants on both sides.

A Fine Visit

It was a wonderfully peaceful visit. Tony and Donna know that I'll come back every chance I get. (I've been doing it for 45 years now.) I usually like to get a family photo or two when I visit, but I don't always remember. Then, of course, every now and then someone will have his eyes closed or something and I'll have no fallback.

In this case, the "family" photograph should have been Tony and Donna with Satchel. But Satchel decided somewhere along the line that he doesn't like cameras, or having his picture taken. So in this shot, Murphy is standing in for Satchel. But, in the interest of full disclosure, Murphy was clowning around; he laid down and turned away at the last minute, then laughed at me. Well, maybe I imagined that. Fortunately, I'd taken another picture a couple seconds before (before Donna was ready) and was able to combine the two shots so everyone appears to be paying attention.

Here's Satchel, later in the day. He's been for a walk with Donna and couldn't be bothered to leave the room when I pulled out the camera - he just glared at me. Maybe next time I visit Satchel will cut me some slack. He's a handsome fellow - and photogenic, whether he realizes it or not.

This shot of Murphy is my payment for his standing in for Satchel in the first shot. He's a handsome pup too, but he should work on curbing his naked ambition. I tried to explain to him that all fame was fleeting. . . but he just wanted me to "make him famous".

A Fog on the Marsh - II

Just how many ways can you crop a scene and maintain the interest of your audience? I don't Don't know. . . maybe we'll find out with this post. The importance of the composition of each shot is paramount, I think. The balance has to be there. The foreground is the easiest thing to change, whether you move the viewpoint, or height, or adjust the angle slightly. Whatever the answer is to the question posed above, I do know there's not a lot you can write about such similar scenes without losing the audience. . .

In these two shots, note the 2 birds on the left light pole (Yeah, I know. . . BIRDS again!)

I may have been wrong about the birds. The whatever-it-was on the left is probably a bird, but I'm thinking it looks at least a little bit like a lobster. . .

Okay, false alarm. It was a bird after all.

Now they're both gone - and we're left with just pictures of the dock, the marsh, and the fog. Oh! And the memories.

A Fog on the Marsh - I

Up early again this morning, but this time it's really different. In all the times I've visited since Tony and Donna moved here, I've never seen it foggy like this. If serenity rules the marsh on a "normal" day, it becomes absolutely ethereal in the mist.

In such a small geographical area (the back yard and dock) there are only so many photo opportunities available in a given session. In this case, the fog itself further limited what I could shoot from the dock. It struck me that each shot this morning seems to match a previous shot I'd taken under clear blue skies. Maybe I'll do a post on comparative views sometime.

I love the trees in the background just fading out in all of these, but as interesting to me in the one above is the complex reflection of the dock on the surface of the water.

I'm not sure exactly what it is about this one. It may be the diagonal line of the dock and the area of marsh grass in the left middle ground. It would have been better if the lower curve of the marsh grass was parallel to the curve of the banister but. . . maybe I'll "fix" it. Yeah, I think I can do that. . .

In the picture above, the only trace of "real" color is in the flag at left and the canvas on the nearby boat. Overall, in both these two pictures, I like the way all the solids seem to be floating across the middle of the picture in the gray. The interesting contrast here - again, in addition to tonal contrasts - is the way the trees fade to gray in the upper half of the pictures and the sweetgrass reflections change to the sky's reflection with sharp, clearly defined edges.

High Tide Is a Relative Term

When Tony and Donna arose looking for coffee, I was reading about Lincoln's "Team of Rivals". I followed Tony up to his office where he introduced me to the frustrations of sudoku, much as he had the frustrations of golf many years ago. Possibly out of habit, he checked the tide tables - Donna says people who live on the marsh "live and die by the tides" - and was surprised to find that today and tomorrow promised an extraordinary 7.1 foot tide. And sure enough. . .

The view above, from the back porch, shows Boone Hall Creek higher than I've ever seen it. I suspect occasional storm surges were probably higher, but what surprised me was that when I had been out there earlier (yesterday's pictures) I was sure that was high tide. Obviously, like so many other things, High Tide is relative.

The real (and really) high tide occasioned a visit to the dock so, with coffee and cigarettes and camera the three of us traipsed out to the dock to survey nature. The egret in the picture above might not have minded Tony, Donna and me, but he wasn't going to share the dock with Murphy, Ellen's Westie.

Absolutely everything is interesting to Murphy; a reed floating by or a mullet trying to fly. Young and curious describes Murphy pretty well.

Compare the level of tide in this picture (or the first two) with the level in yesterday's pictures, remembering that those pictures were taken only a couple hours prior to these.

All the birds in the area are not as quiet as the egret. This C-17 Globemaster III is a common sight around Charleston. The Air Force operates from Charleston under the Air Mobility Command.

With the egret elsewhere, Murphy was the only wildlife available to shoot (no pun intended). He appears to be "with the program" in these pictures but, believe me, it was the persistence of the photographer that was paramount in this case.

I don't know whether or not Murphy likes to swim, but he certainly likes to wade. When the water comes up into the yard, you're never quite sure just what comes with it. Murphy takes it as a personal challenge to find anything of interest the incursion of the water may have brought.

First One Up

Visiting some places, you might stay abed till you hear the sounds of the household awakening. Not so, here. Being the first one up is a great pleasure and reminds you - if you're in need of reminding - that early morning is, without a doubt, the very best time of the day.

It was another fine day on the marsh. When I arrived late yesterday, it was low tide. Now the water's up, the sun is warming, the breeze is light and cool - the weather, in short, is gorgeous.

It's easy to see egrets on the move at this time of day when so much is in shadow. Their swift flight would seem to be at odds with the stillness of wetlands, but their silent grace seems to enhance the early morning serenity rather than detract from it.

Usually, the "stillness" is a mistaken impression anyway. Even when the egrets have settled, and the breeze is not enough to sway the sweetgrass, eventually you'll notice an occasional reed floating on the surface, in or out with the tide. Then perhaps you'll hear a fish break the surface. . . or see a ripple in the glass. . .

And if the breeze should fail completely, you can retire to the porch to thwart the "no see 'ems" and still enjoy the morning.