With a serious lack of imagination I drove south out of Austin on Saturday seeking the visual cues that will tell me whether or not the bluebonnets have peaked yet this year. I'd been out to Inks Lake twice already; the first time was in response to reports of beaucoup bluebonnets between here and Bastrop, and the second time was with Amy, my daughter-in-law, when she visited from Australia about 10 days ago. Both excursions were disappointing with respect to bluebonnets west of Austin, but in both cases I needed to get out for a drive or go buggy here in the hermitage.
I also wanted some quality time with my new lens (70-300mm, remember? I told you about it a couple of weeks ago, you just don't remember.) This is the view looking south from "the Pass", a roadcut through a limestone ridge on Ranch Rd 165 between Henley and Blanco. This is the 70mm version.
This, on the other hand, is the 300mm version looking at the same bend in the road, but with more traffic and more wildlife. That's a Turkey Vulture, identifiable by the white underside of the wings' trailing edges. We also do Black Vultures here, but they were on strike or something so they missed the pictures. One of the things that's neat about this lens is that if the sky is ugly or boring on a particular day, it doesn't necessarily have to be in the picture.
Buzzards and vultures are really ugly, up close. Of course, it's not their fault, and they do have redeeming social value. Besides helping out with road kill, they're as graceful as any bird in nature. It's up to us to choose the distance that doesn't embarrass the creature and provides us an aesthetic experience, watching it soar effortlessly over the countryside. The picture above, taken from a bridge on the eastern outskirts of Blanco, emphasizes that vultures aren't the only homely denizens of our skies (or the homeliest) and, for good measure, demonstrates that the ugly duckling doesn't always turn into a swan and, if you think about it for a while, may even suggest that the whole story of the ugly duckling was a hoax. . . or at least a myth.
This view looking west, up the Blanco River, shows the lovely park where the very sad duck in the previous picture lives. Life doesn't necessarily kick a critter when he's down. And, here in Texas, it's nice to see a river with water in it, even if it relies on dams to carry off the effect.
After driving Amy out to where the bluebonnets were supposed to be several days before, I had to go back and see if they were any better now that they didn't have to impress her. This ranch is one Mom and I found a few years ago - and that I couldn't find when I was squiring Amy about the Hill Country. It was a 50-50 chance I'd find it on the first trip. . . but what does that say in the grand scheme of things. I did find it on the second try. I also have to say that they didn't present as well as they had when I was with Mom. I don't know if it was the color per se, or the lighting, or the number of flowers, or whether it's just the Thomas Wolf effect: you can't go home again.
Same ranch, a little way down the road. Nothing particularly special, but it's a pleasant image and I wanted to play with it a bit in PS. I sometimes wonder just what it was in some of my pictures that arrested my attention in the first place. Pondering this puzzle for a really long time, I'm inclined to think it has to do with telling a story or describing a place or just communicating something. You see, I find I can't just say, "That's no good," and delete it. I'm compelled to "play with it", and it usually gets better. Two things that commonly surface in these exercises are that the visual composition of the image, the balance, is extremely important and that, often, all that's necessary to complete it is a few words of copy in the appropriate size and font. That doesn't mean I necessarily go ahead and "finish it". It's enough for me to know that the image would "work" if I need a poster or a magazine spread about ranches in the Spring. Does that make any sense?
This horse lives across the highway from the that windmill with all the bluebonnets in the pasture. There are a few in this pasture as well, but what is it that determines whether a paddock is going to be covered with blue in the Spring or show just a smattering? If this one is covered with bluebonnets this year, will it be more likely to put on a good show next year (assuming the drought doesn't preclude a grand show anywhere in the area)? Who knows? I guess if dogwoods are out of the question, I'll keep trying to evaluate the bluebonnet crop.
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