Tag Archives: photography

Photo Friday: Abstractions and Reflections

For this week’s Photo Friday post, I offer something a bit different. The original concept for the image is not original, of course. I’ve seen others do what I did: namely composing a photo entirely with water reflections to get a somewhat abstract blend of color and shape and form. I took this one a week or two ago, when leaves were first appearing on trees near the lake. I captured several images – this is the one that I liked best, though if you asked me to tell you why, I probably couldn’t.

I hope you like the image, and I hope you have safe, fun, peaceful weekend.

Lake Reflections, Spring, by David B. Coe

Photo Friday: Fog on Jackson Lake

Another week gone, another Photo Friday post. How is it possible, when we’re basically all sitting at home doing next to nothing, for time to fly by so quickly? March dragged. April has sped by. At least for me.

Anyway, today’s photo is another one from Jackson Lake, near my home. This was taken on a foggy day and captures the lake in a different mood. Compare it to the previous photo I posted of the same view, which you can see here. As I said when I put up that first image, this is a spot I intend to visit again and again as it changes through the seasons.

I hope you enjoy this photo, and I wish you a wonderful weekend.

Spring Fog, Jackson Lake, by David B. Coe

Photo Friday: White Dogwood

For today’s Photo Friday post, I have a taste of Appalachian spring. Our white dogwoods have been blooming for the past week or so, and most of our trees are starting to leaf out. Nancy’s garden looks wonderful.

I captured this image after several attempts. I wanted to isolate the dogwood blooms against a featureless blue sky. I don’t know why – the composition just struck me as so simple and expressive of the season and what I’ve been seeing on my walks. I hope you like it.

I wish all of you a wonderful weekend. Be safe, stay healthy, take care of one another.

White Dogwood on Blue, by David B. Coe

Photo Friday: Spring Hues from the Bluff

Another week of distancing, another week of hikes around our beautiful little town. Spring is in the air, despite the light freeze we had just last night.

Early in the week, I hiked out to one of my favorite view points. It’s called Piney Point, and though the usual parking area for this trailhead has been closed, I was able to get close enough and make up the rest of the distance with a little extra hiking.

One of the reasons I love this spot is that during the spring, as trees begin to leaf out, the valley below the point comes alive with a thousand different shades of green. With a telephoto lens, I can capture segments of the hillsides, searching for subtle patterns in the new growth. And so, with that in mind, I offer you two images from Piney Point, both of them providing, I hope a taste of what spring is like right now in the Appalachians.

Enjoy, and have a peaceful, safe, joyous weekend.

Spring Hues I, 2020, by David B. Coe Spring Hues II, 2020, by David B. Coe

Photo Friday: A Hike to Jackson Lake

As the pandemic progresses, the limitations placed on what we can and should do grow more stringent. Here in our little town, that has meant, most recently, a ban on parking at many of the more popular trailheads in and around campus. Too many people are coming from out of town to take advantage of the amazing physical surroundings of our university (the school is located on 13,000 acres atop the Cumberland Plateau) and they’re congregating in the parking areas. Hence the ban.

For those who live in town, this prohibition is not that big a deal. The town is small enough that they can walk to most of those trailheads from their homes. But for those of us who live too far outside of town for such a walk to be feasible, the challenge is greater. And so this week, after having already given up access to the gym, and while still desperate for ways to stay active, I have lost access to some of my favorite hikes.

In the end, though, this turned out to be a boon. Two days ago, faced with this newest limitation, I finally tried a hike near our home that I had been putting off literally for years. I don’t know why I avoided it. Lots of people told me it was a great walk, but I had my favorites, and I am nothing if not a creature of habit. Now, without other choices, I was forced to try this hike.

It was magnificent. The roundtrip was about five and half miles, and it took me to a couple of great spots, chief among them a pair of lakes. One of the lakes, photographed here, is about a mile and a half from our house. It is overgrown and picturesque and stunningly beautiful, even with spring foliage just beginning to emerge. When I arrived there, I flushed a pair of Wood Ducks. Newly arrived warblers and vireos sang from hidden perches

It is called Jackson Lake, and I am already planning my next visit and thinking of times when it will be even more spectacular – at the height of fall color, after a snow in winter, in the midst of one of our many foggy mornings, etc.

For now here is one of the images I captured the other morning. Enjoy. And have a wonderful weekend.

Jackson Lake, Early Spring, by David B. Coe

Photo Friday: More Macro of Spring Flowers

Another week gone, and another Photo Friday post. I’m not sure how the days can fly so when all I’m doing is working at home, living at home, keeping entertained and busy at home, but there it is.

I hope you all aren’t tired of macro photography, because once again that’s what I have for you. These are two photos I took last week down in Shakerag Hollow. One is of water droplets on Dutchman’s Breeches greens. The other is another Rue Anemone. I hope you enjoy them.

Stay safe, stay healthy, be thoughtful of others, and have a wonderful weekend.

Rue Anenome II, by David B. Coe Dutchman's Breeches Greens and Raindrops, by David B. Coe

Photo Friday: More Spring Wildflowers

With the university gym closed, I have made several hikes down into Shakerag Hollow again this week. One of the days was windy, and unless you’ve tried it you have no idea how frustrating it can be trying to take close-up photos of flowers in the wind. It’s a little like trying to balance a marble on a bowling ball: hopeless.

But yesterday’s weather was perfect, and I got several more photos, including the two below. The yellow flower is called Celandine Poppy, and the white and yellow one is called Dutchman’s Breeches – one of my favorite names for any flower.

These are trying times, and I hope that these photos bring you a little joy and peace. We will get through this. Hang in there. Be safe, be good to each other, and try to enjoy your weekend.

Dutchman's Breeches I, by David B. Coe Celandine Poppy After Rain, by David B. Coe

Monday Musings: More Thoughts on the Pandemic

So, you’re tele-working now. Or you’re home with kids whose schools have closed. Or, like me, you’re just back from driving fifteen hours round trip to pick up your kid from a college that is closed for “two weeks,” but really indefinitely, until this clusterfuck of a pandemic is over.

Our routines seem so solid, so established. We take for granted that they will remain constant, that the foundations of our lives are sound. It’s disorienting to realize how fragile these things truly are. Think about it: On New Year’s Eve, none of us had ever heard of Covid-19; most of us didn’t even know there was a collection of pathogens known as coronavirus. That was the day when health officials in Wuhan Province, China, first reported a cluster of mysterious pneumonia cases. The first case has since been dated back to November 17. But even that is only four months ago. And returning to December 31, most of us spent that night with friends and family, celebrating the New Year, unaware that THE dominant news story of 2020 was already underway.

Eleven weeks later, the world is a changed place. Hundreds of thousands ill, thousands dead. Who knows how high those numbers might climb? For many – too many – life will never be the same; for the rest of us, it will eventually return to normal, but the dislocations will be profound and unsettling.

Please allow me to pause here, and to be clear: None of what I am about to say is meant to in any way downplay the seriousness of the situation. For those most at risk – the immunocompromised, the older members of our communities, those who already have underlying medical issues – this is a matter of life and death. Others among us face huge economic hardships that most of us can’t even imagine. The most vulnerable among us – in physical terms AND economic terms – need our support, our love, our compassion, and the attention of our policy makers.

That said, placed in perspective, the disruptions the most fortunate among us – myself included – have endured thus far seem pretty minimal. We hope they will remain so. But in talking to my wife and my kids and other family members, in corresponding with friends and colleagues, I see already the toll taken by the sheer uncertainty of it all. That is another cost of the Trump Administration’s bungling response to the crisis. Yes, they have squandered precious time, and this WILL result in more sickness and, ultimately, more deaths. But even for those who will be fortunate enough to remain healthy, the cost in uncertainty and anxiety is significant.

I got really ticked off at myself the other day because I realized half the day was gone and I had accomplished nothing. I’m finding it hard to concentrate, to resist the temptation to check the news for the latest event to be called off or the next celebrity to announce that they Have It. And as I result I’m getting nothing done.

Which probably doesn’t matter right now. Do I really think publishers are immune to the economic dislocations impacting every other industry? Do I really expect them to be contracting new books or sticking to publication schedules for the ones already in production?

And this leads me to the next thought.

Have you read about the environmental impact of Covid-19? Economic activity has ground to a halt in China and Italy, among other places. And as a result carbon emissions are way, way down in those areas. Now, I am NOT celebrating this. We need to curb carbon output, but subjecting the world to a deadly pandemic is NOT the way to combat climate change.

My point is that many of us – even as we’re expected to “tele-work” (an inelegant phrase, by the way – surely we can do better) – are going to have time on our hands. We’re not going out as much. We’re probably not traveling. Professional conferences are on hold. We’re not going to movies or concerts or sporting events. We won’t be watching March Madness or the end of the professional basketball season or the opening of the Major League Baseball season.

So what will we be doing?

Last week, I went on a hike and took a bunch of photographs (if you haven’t already, check out last week’s Photo Friday post). I have a ton of books to read. Lately, I haven’t been playing my guitar nearly enough. It’s almost time for bird migration, which means more hikes. Yes, I’ll probably be watching TV and movies from home. All of us are going to be binging something, I’m sure. Yet, even the most dedicated bingers can’t spend ALL their time in front of the screen. Those of us who lament never having enough time to do all the stuff we’d like to… well, we finally have that time. It’s been imposed from without. It comes with anxiety-inducing social costs. But if ever there was a time to slow down and enjoy the simple things that modern life too often encourages us to ignore, this is it.

And that’s where I’ll leave you today. This is what I’m musing on this odd Monday. We are in a dark time, to be sure. I’m nervous, as I’m sure most of you are, about the economic and social and biological and political implications of the pandemic. There is plenty to fear. As with all things, though, there is also a flip side. I have thought for a long time that I would like to simplify elements of my life, but in my rush to be productive and to keep all of my professional and personal commitments, I have allowed that wish to fall by the wayside. Now, I have no choice in the matter. For good or for ill. As it were…

Wishing you a good week, whatever that means at this moment in history.

Photo Friday: Spring Flowers

Happy Friday the 13th. May it bring you good luck and usher in a peaceful weekend.

The weather here has been kind of crappy, but on Wednesday morning I managed to catch a window of sunshine. I went down into what’s known around here as Shakerag Hollow, so named because once upon a time, when the moon was shining, you could go down into the hollow, shake a white rag, and the moonshiners would come out to sell their wares.

Today, Shakerag is known more for its spectacular spring wildflowers, which are just now starting to emerge. I do a lot of landscape photography, but I also love macro (close-up) work, especially this time of year. As you can see from my photo (of Rue Anemone and Dutchman’s Breeches greens) the rain and fog had left droplets of water on… well, everything, so that the floor of the forest appeared to shimmer, as if strewn with gemstones. It was nice to escape from the madness of our world for an hour or two, and lose myself in photography. I got several good shots – I may share more with you in the weeks to come. But for now, enjoy this one.

Have a restful, sane weekend.

Raindrops on Rue Anenome and Dutchman's Breeches, by David B. Coe

Photo Friday: A Winter Walk

Last weekend, in between rainstorms, Nancy and I got out for a lovely walk on what is known here as the Mountain Goat Trail. The Mountain Goat is an old railroad bed and the MGT Alliance is part of the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy.

It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and the play of shadow and light, of path and bare trees, made for a peaceful black and white image. I hope you like it.

Have a wonderful weekend. I’ll be in Charlotte, NC for the Saga Professional Development Conference. Hope to see some of you there.

A Winter's Walk, by David B. Coe