Fall Migration

Early fall, it turns out, is one of the best times to go birding in the Washington D.C. area.  Birds are migrating to the more temperate climes of the south.  The number of birds in the area increases temporarily and birders have a field day trying to find all these birds.  Many of the experience birders are enthusiastic about teaching what they know about birds (and photography).  Yellow Rumped Warbler?  Supposedly, they’re at Huntley Meadows Park at the moment.  Can I find them?  Umm, not with a lot of help.  I need to learn how to recognize them first, without relying on the Merlin App from Cornell.

That aside, it is a lot of fun watching the birds fly around Huntley.  There are several variety of woodpeckers hammering away in the woods.  Warblers are frittering about.  While the ospreys are gone, various hawks are salivating to take advantage of the migration time.  Bluebirds abound.  I am still working on getting a good picture of a Belted Kingfisher, but with all these birds around, the hours are not nearly enough to enjoy the company of these fantastic creatures.

Most birds maintain their distance from the photographer.

Every one in a while, a bird or two gets close enough to be able to take a detailed photograph.

Eastern Bluebird


Eastern Phoebe


House Wren


Time to look for that kingfisher.  On the other hand, I hear a warbler, maybe.

I came for the birds, but I kind of mist!

A beautiful, sunny, cool October morning was the catalyst for taking a short walk at Huntley Meadows Park in suburban Alexandria, Virginia.  Huntley is one of those hidden gems.  It has winding trails, woods, and wetlands, in a compact location in the middle of suburban Alexandria (the Fairfax County part), Virginia.  Fall migration is still in full swing, so this may be a good opportunity to get some decent pictures of our avian friends.

I made it to the open area, the marshy area that presaged the wetlands.  The birds were certainly singing.  I wanted to go further down the boardwalk, to the place where the belted kingfishers dwelt, but I stopped.  For forty five minutes or so I only walked an additional twenty five yards or so.  The culprit?

A heavy, morning mist, with the sun streaming down, on a small part of Huntley Meadows.  You can literally see the sunbeams, white mist, and a hint of color.   It looked interesting and bland at the same time.  If only there was a little bit more color on that scene.  Well, there was!  A little bit.  The dehaze feature of Adobe Camera Raw can do some interesting things.  And though the dehazed image was initially dull, one could see a hint of color in the image.  A delicate restoration of color information may result in an interesting picture.  After working with the contrast, sharpness, saturation and vibrance sliders, the following pictures came out.





And as a bonus, a stalk blowing in the wind.


The pictures came out with an “impressionistic” look.  Restating the title of this post, I came for the birds, but the light was right.

August 21, 2017 Anno Domini

My wife likes the beach.  Every year, around her birthday, we plan a trip to the beach.  This year, the beach trip was almost certainly (and did not) happen.  For the first time in decades, a total solar eclipse was going to be visible over large swats of the continental United States.  When I first looked at the map for viewing totality, the closest town in which the totality will be visible was hours away from the Washington D.C. area.  What is an astronomy geek supposed to do?

Drive to South Carolina.  So everyone agreed to go to South Carolina for this year’s “beach trip.”  The problem was, we didn’t book lodgings early enough, so we ended up staying near Charlotte, North Carolina.  An even better idea.  Several cities that are going to experience totality are within two hours of Charlotte.  Columbia,  Greenville.  Charleston.  Now, Charleston was more than two hours away, but choice is always good.

Unfortunately, we didn’t head south early enough.  Once the window for driving down Interstate 95 essentially closed (on the Saturday before the eclipse) –  the probability of encountering heavy traffic on Interstate 95 driving southward becoming a near certainty – it was time for another spur of the moment plan.  We ended up driving westward and then south (going south via Interstate 81).  Unfortunately, my idea of a rather easy commute was shattered by numerous accidents on Interstate 81.  The roughly six hour or so drive took almost three hours more to complete.

Still, we got to Charlotte on Saturday evening and had a great dinner.  We forgot, however, that things don’t quite work the same way in the South as it does in Northern Virginia (and points northward).  It’s been decades since a majority of places (to eat) were closed on Sundays.  We were looking forward to eating good Southern style barbecue.  Fortunately, we found a Greek deli and had the most southern of all cuisines (Greece is actually south of Northern Virginia).

We left Charlotte early Monday morning and headed down to South Carolina.  As there were predictions of cloud cover in the eclipse area, we ended up heading towards Greenville to minimize the chances of clouds blocking our view of the eclipse.  Then a new idea popped up.  Why go to a city when you can go to the South Carolina high country to watch the eclipse.  We headed towards Nine Times Preserve (owned by the Nature Conservancy) to watch the eclipse.  Surprisingly, the traffic to this part of South Carolina was fairly light.  Traveling the highways on the North Carolina/South Carolina high country was immensely pleasurable and relaxing.  Traffic, what traffic?

Unfortunately, there  are no “facilities” at Nine Times Preserve so we decided to stop by Table Rock State Park for a quick refresher.  Even at 8AM, all the parking spaces near the park visitor center were in use  The state troopers were directing people to other parts of the park to park and set up for the eclipse.  We were able to head down to Nine Times Preserve suitably refreshed.

Well, Nine Times Preserve was a nice, isolated, quiet area.  Very few people were in the preserve.  There’s an eclipse in a few hours, why so few people?  Well, for one thing, the parking spaces in the preserve were either tree line or there were power lines hanging between towers nearby that could block the view of the event.  Intent on photographing the eclipse, I decided to head towards the Jocassee Gorges Land Management area.  To our surprise, the was a big lot on the side of the road (Cherokee Hills Scenic Highway) where people set up their telescopes and cameras.  And there was enough space for us to park.  And the view was going to be relatively unobstructed.

It was a warm summer day in South Carolina.  There were clouds in the sky, but the eclipse was a few hours away.  Still, those weather apps on the mobile phone proved invaluable in monitoring the weather around our little spot of South Carolina.  A half hour before the eclipse, there was a chance that some clouds would ruin our best laid plans.

The eclipse started with everyone staring at the sun (with their official eclipse glasses that were made in China), waiting patiently for the occlusion to start.  It was a slow process and people went about their other tasks – conversations started, snacks consumed.  Soon enough, some clouds threatened to cover the rapidly diminishing solar disc.  Somehow, the clouds, like the Red Sea, parted and we eclipse seekers were able to go to the Promised Land (okay, we got to see totality).

What a sight it was.  I wanted to capture, on my camera, the moment when the totality phase first began.  The diamond ring effect is the first indicator of this phase of the eclipse, as the last part of the sun is covered by the new moon.  A few seconds later, Baily’s Beads became visible, which marked the beginning of totality.  We had traveled far enough south that totality lasted two and a half minutes.  I would glance up in the sun in total amazement, then get back to the camera to take more pictures.

Two and a half minutes seemed like an eternity.  It also seemed like it only lasted a millisecond.  Totality was over sooner than we really wanted.  Baily’s Beads reappeared.  Then the diamond ring was back.  A few seconds after that, totality was over.  Two and a half minutes of utter amazement.  It was dark (not pitch black).  We could see the corona illuminating the darkened sky.  It was eerily quiet.  The creatures of the earth, in unison, reveled in the fact that in the middle of a nearly cloudless day, we could not see our own shadows.  For a moment, people from all parts of the East Coast (we, in this spot in South Carolina came from points north, west and south) were joined in watching one of nature’s true wonders.  A shared, almost supernal experience that we will remember for the rest of our lives.  For two and a half minutes, we were not Virginians, North Carolinians, South Carolinians, Pennsylvanians, Georgians.  We were men and women looking up, staring intently on a disc that we have known for all our lives and that now, for a few brief seconds, was transformed to a mesmerizing display of the sun’s hitherto invisible chromosphere.  A shared experience.  A shared humanity.

The traffic driving back to Charlotte was significantly heavier than the traffic going down to this little spot somewhere between the towns of Sunset and Salem South Carolina.  It mattered not.  The traffic will be forgotten.  The inconveniences will be forgotten.  The excitement of the moment, the memory of the experience, the pictures of the eclipsed sun will remain for the rest of our lives.

And, there is going to be another total solar eclipse that will be visible in the United States in seven years.  Road Trip!

A fantastic birthday present.  For my wife.  And for everyone who saw it.  A grand revelation of our place in this planet, in this solar system, in this galaxy, in this universe.  That we can gaze upon the stars, marvel at the sights, and have the knowledge to know of what is about to happen, and yet still be in awe of what we are seeing, can be an epiphany.  A rebirth, of sorts.  Though we are mere creatures privileged enough to see a total eclipse of the sun, we are left with the knowledge that this world we all live in must be cared for to the outmost of our abilities.  I hope that my children and their children and the generations yet to come will have the same sense of wonder that we, a small cadre of humans on a small spot in South Carolina, experienced.   And that they will be able to stand on the same collection of interstellar dust, a planet called earth, breathe clean mountain air, and gaze upward towards the heavens.


Ah, Wilderness!

Living in the suburbs of a major city has a lot of advantages.  There are almost too many things that you can do.  Museums in the city offer new opportunities for discovery.  There are restaurants to go to, with a sampling of cuisine from all corners of the earth.  Traveling bands of musicians fill indoor and outdoor venues with music.  The local sports teams give the city an identity.  A wide variety of neighborhoods to explore and live in.  Places stay open late into the night.  The health care system is fairly robust.

The urban landscape, with its wide and narrow streets, with the movement of people going about their daily lives, the buildings tall and short, old and new.  Sounds and smell that give each city its individual flavor.  Photographic subjects galore.  Cityscapes, abstractions, street photography – images created by the boundless imaginations of denizens and visitors alike.

And here in the Washington D.C. area, a scant few miles from Washington itself, on the road that leads to Washington’s Mount Vernon, lies a small wildlife preserve that gives pause to the routine of suburban living.  Parking near the marina, a short walk on the sidewalk leads to a dirt trail marked with a solitary sign.  Dyke Marsh Wildlife Preserve.

The trail runs close to the banks of the Potomac River.  The trail is an incomplete semi circle that leads to a boardwalk and then it ends with a view of a small island, separated from the abutment of land by a channel in the river.  In the early morning, walking the trail towards this island, you pass by several glades where the sandy shores meet the waters of the great river.  Can the city be only a few miles away?


Blue sky, clear water, trees and river grasses.  An oasis that seems so far away until you hear the airplanes overhead, getting ready to land in nearby Reagan National Airport.   A turn to another direction and you almost run into a swamp.


You can see a solitary heron in the water nearby.  Further down the river, you see a tree laden with egrets.  The percussive sound of woodpeckers hammering away in the woods, the eagles and ospreys soaring overhead in search of prey, the terns and gulls in majestic glides.  Ah, Wilderness!


Seven is a Lucky Number

On the seventh day of the seventh month in the seventeenth year of this century (okay, the 7 stuff breaks down on the fourth descriptor), I was fortunate enough to have my camera and macro lens at Meadowlark Gardens.  Some of the best macro images I took over the summer (and in the last few years) were taken that day.  Moth or butterfly?  Beautiful either way.


How often do you get a bee “facing off” “against” a moth (second image)?  Or two bugs sitting on a beautiful flower filled stem (first image)?  Or have a moth willing to have a lens close enough to see elements in its eye (third image)?



Recent images of Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds taken at Meadowlark Botanical Gardens in Vienna, Virginia.  A great place for quiet contemplative walks, bird watching and reconnecting with yourself.  Flowers and plants galore.  A short drive from Tysons Corner, Virginia and Wolf Trap Farm Park.


Three or so years ago, I started this blog with the intention of regularly posting my musings about photography and other random things that interests me.  Even with the best intentions, that never happened.  I had fifteen posts, a short burst, a brief follow-up, and then nothing.  Silence.

Since the time of my last posts, I have become an even more avid photographer.  I’ve become a “birder” – which means I like taking pictures of birds.  And other wildlife.  Now, if you ask me to identify a bird that’s sitting on a tree or wading in the water, you will be sorely disappointed in my scope of knowledge.  I can probably identify less than two dozen birds without having to consult a book or a web site.  And this includes chickens, geese, turkeys.  And some variety of raptors (bald eagles, ospreys), water fowl (wood ducks, mergansers, mallards), waders (egrets, herons) and some warblers.  There are a lot of birds out there.  I’ll take pictures of them, especially if I can spot them (just because I can hear them does not mean I can find them).

I also love macro photography.  The small world around us is utterly fascinating.  You can take pictures of bees without being stung.  Hornets and wasps?  Well, take your chances.  I know I am weary.

I love landscape photography.  I enjoy going to national parks, taking pictures from the various viewpoints, hiking to other spots to around the parks and refuges that allow one to fully bask in the beauty that surrounds me.  I love sunrises, I love sunsets, and I want to sleep at mid day (when I have my camera).  And yet.  The interesting things in life are somewhat unpredictable, and so are the interesting things that happen when you have a camera in hand.  I keep saying that to myself, but heck, when there are no shadows and the light is harsh, well, it can be a challenge.  And an opportunity.

Though I now shoot with digital cameras, I took my first picture with a plastic “Diana” camera that used 120 film.  Then I used my grandfather’s twin lens reflex camera.  My first picture with that?  A cat.  Oh, I can tell you this.  I don’t take many pictures of dogs.  Or cats.  There are a lot of pet owners out there who take amazingly great pictures of dogs and cats napping, jumping, lying down, looking coy – the whole myriad of expressions that an animal can show – someone has captured that.  And posted it on Instagram.  If I REALLY need to see (or want to see) a picture of a dog or cat, I can safely say that there will be no shortage of well shot, awesome, amazing, inspiring pictures of dogs or cats that I can readily see just by typing a few words and clicking my mouse button once or twice.  It just so happens that my desire for doing such a thing is minimal to non existent.

My father bought me my first real camera, a Fujica ST-705 screw mount camera.  I soon replaced it with a Pentax KM.  Then in college, I saved some money and bought a Minolta XD-11.  A fantastic tool.  It felt like an instrument that would last a lifetime.  And guess what?  I still have it.  I need to have it fixed (a little), but it still works.  I then graduated to a whole slew of Minolta auto focus cameras.  I started with the Maxxum 7000i.  I bought a Maxxum 9xi which I brought with me to my honeymoon.  I still have that great camera.

Then digital cameras became affordable.  So now, with my Sony digital cameras, I am constantly using them and post processing the images that come out of them.  In the old days, when I was going broke having film developed, the “one third keepers rule” worked wonderfully well.  For photo finishers.  Yes, one third of the pictures in the roll were worth keeping.  I always wanted the better shot.  Shoot more film.  Get them printed.  Or shoot slides.  Look at them on a light table.  Have a few pictures enlarged.  A cycle that ended when digital cameras became the main tools for image making.

Now, it’s easy to shoot hundreds, even thousands of pictures in a day.  I do it.  Everyone does it.  And then I copy the pictures to my computer and start looking at them.  The good ones are post processed.  The rest of them?  The marginal ones are saved, the terrible ones (a great majority of the pictures) are deleted.  That old “one third keepers rule?”  If you’re lucky, you’ll keep one third of one third of the images that you take.  It is so easy to click and not think about what you are doing.  It’s wasteful, really.  Not of pictures or camera clicks.  Of time and experience.  When it’s easy to delete, it is easy to think that something wonderful will be in the midst of all those clicks.  Sometimes, one loses track of what one is doing with a photograph.  One gets lazy at times.

Now, mind you, when you take pictures of flying birds, a whole lot of the images are of marginal quality at best.  Still, now that I have gotten the macro photography bug, the attention to detail that macro photography forces you to do has improved my image taking process somewhat.  I think, I look, I see, I imagine, I visualize, I click.  Still a lot of marginal images.  The difference, I think, is that instead of pressing the button when I see something interesting with my eyes, I look at something and try to see what’s interesting in the thing before my eyes.  That additional process, thinking about what you are looking at.  It makes a big difference in my photography.

For this second attempt at starting a blog, I am posting pictures taken with my film cameras.  I have my film processed in the one remaining photo processing store that’s within five miles of my house.  I take the negatives and use my macro lens attached to my digital camera and take a picture of the negatives.  I then process that digital image using Photoshop.  It’s not nearly as messy as processing the old Tri-X in smelly chemical solutions in an improvised darkroom, but the joy of a good photograph is as exciting now as it was when I first took a picture with that first camera decades ago.  Here, then, are some of the black and white images taken with my Minolta film cameras.


The thing about film photography is that it forces you to think about the image that you are taking.  To think about the image you want to take.  To pre visualize.  Maybe even plan.  When you turn the focus ring to focus on the subject, that split second of extra time you spend looking at the viewfinder while the world focuses before you makes you think of what you’re looking at.  And then think how you will process that image to make it come alive.  Even before you press the shutter button.  When I first started to shoot film again, I was pointing the camera almost randomly and pressing the shutter.  It was disappointing to look at the first few rolls and realize that some bad habits have creeped into my image making process.  I stopped looking AND thinking.  I saw.  I clicked.  I deleted.  Film photography forces you to do things differently.   A few film rolls later, I’ve learned to slow down, take a deep breath, think about the image that I want to create, look at the world before my eyes, and then press the shutter button.  Analog in a digital world.  Try it sometime.

The “one third keepers” rule is alive and well.  The big difference that digital technology brings is that I can actually process the pictures the way I want them to look.  It would have been great if I had Ansel Adam’s skill as a master printmaker (not only was he a great photographer, what he did in the darkroom was equally impressive), but with Photoshop, I don’t have to mess with the chemicals, darken the room, turn on the safe life, turn on the enlarger, dodge and burn, etc.  The computer as my darkroom.  Where what I saw and what I imagined come to life.

When I wrote my first computer program so many years ago (tic tac toe anyone?), little did I know that the computer and the camera, together, will be the impetus for a tool that has become as ubiquitous as the automobile.  Holy iPhone, Batman!