Photography

Tapestries and the season of unraveling

Autumn has arrived in the Wisconsin wetlands. For this blogger it brings a reprieve from writing and photography as my equipment starts to break down making it difficult to type or work on photography. Even my trusted trackerball  mouse has quit on me. A few weeks ago it was my backup photography laptop. The one I’m writing this on is giving signs the motherboard is likely on the way to digital heaven as well.

I snapped a few photographs yesterday during the rain. I prefer cloudy or overcast days for photography. Sunlight blows out the color ranges I personally prefer. I used my pocket camera, the one I’m oh so sorry I bought last year because it doesn’t have an eyepiece viewer. Only on cloudy days can I see what’s happening with the backscreen viewer. My viewpoint of the Tamarack swamp in the rain seemed very flat, one-dimensional and reminded me of tapestries. I was hoping the actually photographs would have the same flatness to them. They didn’t disappoint me. I think I captured the artsy look I was hoping for. Nature has its own way of showing us what is beautiful when we least expect it, and in ways we won’t recognize if we never slow down and look a bit dazed along the side of a road or walkway.

Click on individual photos for full size views – thanks for stopping by.

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Closing Up The Cabin

Closing up the cabin means dreaming of summer for nine agonizing months.

Perfection, my sweet oblivion to mortal miseries,

Consistently washed from my mind,

Crickets scrubbed my soul clean,

Tree frog and owl compositions layered upon inland lake melodies.

 

If risen moon, wax or wane, full or slice,

Lake surface reassured Luna

‘Yes, you are fairest of them all’.

I never heard fish leap through light on lake

But satisfied snaps against the surface confirmed,

One less moth bumping against the yellow porch light tomorrow.

 

An early fishing boat slowly making it’s way along the shoreline

Will no longer wake me with gentle alarm just before sunup.

Screen door, rusty spring hinge,

Squeals each time it’s opened

Smacks loudly in memory long after WD 40 can is empty.

 

Time will once again run on demand,

Not by who’s swimming where,

Softball tonight at the recreation center,

Volleyball on Tuesday and Thursday afternoon,

Bingo for Baptists on Friday nights at the Catholic Church downtown.

 

Friends halt along the shoreline and sit on piers,

Feet flipping water on relatives for the last time this year

Old Adirondack chairs filling quickly,

Hammocks sway, jealously guarded

Tree swings, one more push please?

Afar, latecomers clicking like rosary beads

Heading towards the altar of the lake front fire pit.

 

Offer thanks to the Milky Way and heavens above

While kids eat S’mores, weenies on a stick,

Parent’s off a bit, literally, with canned beer iced in a galvanized tub,

Latest tall, long fishing tales,

Best expectations for the Packers-Badgers football season

Argued between flatlanders and cheeseheads with setting sun flaming through tall trees.

 

Most of the boats are on trailers, or scheduled for pick up and storage.

Owning a cabin means turning off the water,

Draining the pipes,

Deep sigh as you drive up the road,

Squeeze an artery clogged

wheeze a bit as you blend into homebound traffic

and live a bit of forever in the past.