Wood Ducks at Beaver Lake, October 30th
Some people — including I, myself — might say these images aren’t worthy of being published because of the harsh light and my lens choice for wildlife photography. But reading David duChemin’s email this week changed my mind and boosted my confidence as it cogently reminded me why I love to go out into nature and make photographs with my 10 year old camera and nifty fifty.
“Learning, if we choose to do so from the shots that don't do what we hoped they would, is never failure.
Nor is pressing the shutter because it brings you joy to be out there or because using the camera makes you feel more alive, more aware, and more part of the scene in which you're immersed.”
Light at the end of the tunnel
And by tunnel I mean the dark, dreary, wet, chilly month that was October 2021.
Yellow-gold at Stanley Park, October 30th, 2021
Lost Lagoon, October 27th
A muted, mid-Autumn palette, a few moments of mid-day sunshine, and the peaceful presence of a few feathered creatures:
Beaver Lake, October 27th
A few, selected mages from an overcast, bright morning at Beaver Lake in Stanley Park:
I confess I spent too much time in Lightroom processing these four photographs as I experimented with colour grading, rather than relying on presets. I’m not sure I like the results but it was time to say “Enough — done is better than perfect.” And overall, it was a worthwhile learning exercise in which I felt uncomfortable but also eager to become competent in this skill. I will continue to practice!
“The still melancholy that I love...”
“Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize.”
~ George Eliot
Rings of bright water
A female mallard duck dabbles near the shore of Lost Lagoon at Stanley Park
A Peaceful Sunday Walk Along the Vedder River
Perhaps I should rename this page A Walking Journal as it is evolving naturally in this direction.
Among the Trees
A walk of faith at Stanley Park in early October
While I wandered along the trails, I listened to Emergence Magazine's podcast A Forest Walk – a guided practice by Kimberly Ruffin, which helped me experience a "continuous exchange of belonging" with the forest.
My eyes were delighted by komorebi, which is the untranslatable Japanese word for the effect created by sunlight when it is filtered through the leaves of trees (source).
As Suzanne Simard writes in the introduction to Finding the Mother Tree “The scientific evidence is impossible to ignore: the forest is wired for wisdom, sentience, and healing." I also can’t ignore my own experiences and so say in response “I know and believe!”