When the waters have settled and grown clear in our ponds and sloughs, current or passing waterfowl can cause beautiful reflections. I thought this was an especially appealing image; I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I appreciate that, GP. It might amuse you to know where these words began. I looked at the image and remembered making marbled cakes — the sort where a knife was used to swirl chocolate batter through vanilla batter before baking. I debated for some time whether to use ‘swirl’d’ or ‘stirred’ in that first line, but I’m happy enough with ‘stirred.’
It was a late addition, too. I’d already scheduled the post and had turned to other things when it occurred to me. After it did, I also thought that I should redo some of my tags to make them more useful, but that project is pretty far down on the to-do list.
The water seems especially beautiful just now. Even the Gulf has settled and cleared, with green water coming in nearly to the beach. It’s wonderful, to see and to share.
I find haiku so hard to write. I don’t know if you do, too, but the words seem to pour out of you in perfect order, painting images as lovely as your photos.
Does it make sense for me to say they’re not hard, but they take time? I’ve never in my life thought, “Now I’m going to sit down and write a haiku,” but every now and then something comes to me and I think, “This has to be a haiku.” Then, it’s just a matter of getting all the excess words and stray thoughts out of the way. It’s the same with etherees. Sometimes, I just get the feeling that something belongs in that form. Odd.
Anyway, I’m glad you enjoy them. I certainly enjoy writing them. I expect you find that with your painting, too — the time comes when you say, “There. That’s just the way I want it.”
You’ve taught me something here. Often when I am photographing water I grumble when a beaver or other being causes ripples in the smooth water I am seeking. Rather than grumble I should take advantage of the abstraction that creates. This is super, Linda! Beautiful color and lovely portrait of light.
What’s especially fun about this image is that I know what caused the ripples: an active, lone coot. He’ll be making his own appearance in a separate post, with some friends.
If you’re looking for smooth water, I can imagine how frustrating it is to have something play havoc with things — especially since the light could change significantly before the ripples fade away. I suppose that’s the difference between looking for a certain sort of image and just looking. I never have anything particular in mind when I head out. I’m like the bear who went over the mountain; I go to see what I can see. Sometimes I think, “I wish I could see this or that,” but I don’t really search for it. I just wait for the world to send it my way. This is not a wholly rational approach, but it’s worked pretty well.
I’m glad you like the photo. It was taken on an exceptionally pretty day, and the water captured that beauty well.
As an old coot myself, I’ll be looking forward to his picture.
Quite often I do leave home with an idea of what I am going for. If one wants to shoot sunrise and leaves the house while dark will still linger for an hour then it’s hard to not. But I am always open to change and sometimes it pays off as with the two rewards for years of visitation I recently had.The same is true for the fringed gentians, lady’s slippers, and painted trillium. But while pursuing those I still look for things unexpected. And there are occasional days when I leave without a thought in my head. :)
As autumn returns I’ll be looking to emulate this shot with all our riotous foliage.
No sunrise here today. It started raining about 1 a.m., and the forecast is: 100% chance of rain today and tomorrow, with an 80% chance Thursday, and a 50% chance on Friday. Twelve inches, maybe, and plenty of flood warnings to come. I just lost a whole week of work, and it’s going to be a while before I get to see a sunrise. It was so dark and gloomy this morning I overslept — not that I’m late for anything at this point.
Thinking about all this, it occurred to me that, as with so much in life, it’s a matter of balance. Setting off with a firm goal, tunnel vision could become a problem. Just setting off, scattered attention can lead to unsatisfactory results. Keeping both the big picture and little details in focus is important: likewise the expected and the unplanned.
Right now, I’m focused on more coffee and rearranging my week!
Being in business for yourself, a week is a big loss of income. And 12” is a big amount of rainfall.We could use some of that rain. I hope it doesn’t cause too much hardship for folks there.
Yes, that is just what I was trying to describe. Have a goal but keep your options open to whatever the day offers up.
Good luck with the week and maybe a faulty forecast.
I like that blue reflections always add a pleasant impressionistic palette. I like the analogy of the ‘hand’ with ‘a season’s turning’, I guess it’s because I always thought of myself as a pantheist. What’s your idea of pantheism?
Green, blue, and brown are found in every season — at least here — and yet in every season the mixture differs. It’s great fun to see the colors rearranging themselves in different patterns and proportions, time and again.
My idea of pantheism? Honestly, I rarely think of it. Over the years, I have found that other people’s understanding of the term can differ radically. A classmate once suggested that varieties of pantheistic belief could be seen as equivalent to the splintering of Christian belief into various denominations. I thought that was an interesting comparison, and useful.
I do have a tendency to anthropomorphize plants and animals — even insects — but I’m certainly not an animist, and although I’m not willing to equate God and the cosmos, neither can I separate them. There’s an interesting movement called panentheism that’s been developing over the past years. This article gets into the weeds pretty quickly, but the first paragraph’s an understandable introduction.
Thanks for the link. I’ve had to review all these terms all over again. I don’t know why your image and poem reminded me of these philosophies. It’s probable the inclusion of the ‘hand’.
In the middle of the night, I was checking rainfall rates and saw your comment. The first thing that came to mind was this, from Omar Khayyám:
““The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”
Being unplugged is one thing. Being totally oblivious is something else. I never had heard of pour paintings. Now, thanks to the magic of the internet (and the existence of Etsy) I’m sort of up to speed. What interested me most about many of the paintings is how closely they resemble patterns in nature: geodes, rock layers, fungi, and so on. Thanks for the introduction.
Lovely Haiku! It rather does look like somebody took a knife and gave these waters a swirl. I can envision this one hanging in a gallery under the modern art section!
You know what else I’m thinking of now? Finger painting. If this image was red, blue, and yellow, it wouldn’t look so very different from those early art adventures that were such fun and so messy. I’ve rarely tried for an abstract look, but I really was pleased with the way this came out.
Funny thing but I got dizzy as I looked so intently at your photo. It is a nice abstract view though and I surely can’t find fault with this scene. Interesting that you replied to someone above that the waters have quieted as fall approaches. Before long the migrants will be coming in but some of the many songbirds have already been winging their way to Central and South America.
Coincidentally, I just mentioned to Steve S. that the animated images he’s included in his blog a couple of times affect me in the same way. An image like this doesn’t bother me at all, but some of the flashing images online sometimes do.
All of that pretty water is going to disappear for a while, now that Tropical Storm Imelda has come ashore and begun dumping rain. As the creeks, rivers, and bayous begin to flow, they churn up the mud and mix the waters. It will be interesting to see how much rain we get. I suspect you’ll get some benefit from it, too, depending on its track.
The teal are here now, and mallards are coming in. The green herons might be gone, as I haven’t seen one in days. It’s an exciting time, and great fun to watch for new arrivals.
It was such a pretty day, and it was obvious that the colors were reflecting nicely. It turned out better than I’d hoped, and obviously set off all sorts of imaginings.
If the image were turned ninety degrees in either direction, it would vaguely resemble a bargello pattern, albeit one done freestyle and without a repetitive pattern. Like you, I’m in love with the colors, and I’ll be glad for more cooler, settled weather to begin finding them again.
Lagniappe 
Such a nice aspect, penned beautifully. I love abstraction….. leaves space for the muse.
When the waters have settled and grown clear in our ponds and sloughs, current or passing waterfowl can cause beautiful reflections. I thought this was an especially appealing image; I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I know I’m repeating myself, but I do love how you describe things – just beautiful.
I appreciate that, GP. It might amuse you to know where these words began. I looked at the image and remembered making marbled cakes — the sort where a knife was used to swirl chocolate batter through vanilla batter before baking. I debated for some time whether to use ‘swirl’d’ or ‘stirred’ in that first line, but I’m happy enough with ‘stirred.’
This is only the third time you’ve used the “abstraction” tag here.
It was a late addition, too. I’d already scheduled the post and had turned to other things when it occurred to me. After it did, I also thought that I should redo some of my tags to make them more useful, but that project is pretty far down on the to-do list.
It is hard to beat nature. Beautiful.
The water seems especially beautiful just now. Even the Gulf has settled and cleared, with green water coming in nearly to the beach. It’s wonderful, to see and to share.
I find haiku so hard to write. I don’t know if you do, too, but the words seem to pour out of you in perfect order, painting images as lovely as your photos.
Does it make sense for me to say they’re not hard, but they take time? I’ve never in my life thought, “Now I’m going to sit down and write a haiku,” but every now and then something comes to me and I think, “This has to be a haiku.” Then, it’s just a matter of getting all the excess words and stray thoughts out of the way. It’s the same with etherees. Sometimes, I just get the feeling that something belongs in that form. Odd.
Anyway, I’m glad you enjoy them. I certainly enjoy writing them. I expect you find that with your painting, too — the time comes when you say, “There. That’s just the way I want it.”
You’ve taught me something here. Often when I am photographing water I grumble when a beaver or other being causes ripples in the smooth water I am seeking. Rather than grumble I should take advantage of the abstraction that creates. This is super, Linda! Beautiful color and lovely portrait of light.
What’s especially fun about this image is that I know what caused the ripples: an active, lone coot. He’ll be making his own appearance in a separate post, with some friends.
If you’re looking for smooth water, I can imagine how frustrating it is to have something play havoc with things — especially since the light could change significantly before the ripples fade away. I suppose that’s the difference between looking for a certain sort of image and just looking. I never have anything particular in mind when I head out. I’m like the bear who went over the mountain; I go to see what I can see. Sometimes I think, “I wish I could see this or that,” but I don’t really search for it. I just wait for the world to send it my way. This is not a wholly rational approach, but it’s worked pretty well.
I’m glad you like the photo. It was taken on an exceptionally pretty day, and the water captured that beauty well.
As an old coot myself, I’ll be looking forward to his picture.
Quite often I do leave home with an idea of what I am going for. If one wants to shoot sunrise and leaves the house while dark will still linger for an hour then it’s hard to not. But I am always open to change and sometimes it pays off as with the two rewards for years of visitation I recently had.The same is true for the fringed gentians, lady’s slippers, and painted trillium. But while pursuing those I still look for things unexpected. And there are occasional days when I leave without a thought in my head. :)
As autumn returns I’ll be looking to emulate this shot with all our riotous foliage.
No sunrise here today. It started raining about 1 a.m., and the forecast is: 100% chance of rain today and tomorrow, with an 80% chance Thursday, and a 50% chance on Friday. Twelve inches, maybe, and plenty of flood warnings to come. I just lost a whole week of work, and it’s going to be a while before I get to see a sunrise. It was so dark and gloomy this morning I overslept — not that I’m late for anything at this point.
Thinking about all this, it occurred to me that, as with so much in life, it’s a matter of balance. Setting off with a firm goal, tunnel vision could become a problem. Just setting off, scattered attention can lead to unsatisfactory results. Keeping both the big picture and little details in focus is important: likewise the expected and the unplanned.
Right now, I’m focused on more coffee and rearranging my week!
Being in business for yourself, a week is a big loss of income. And 12” is a big amount of rainfall.We could use some of that rain. I hope it doesn’t cause too much hardship for folks there.
Yes, that is just what I was trying to describe. Have a goal but keep your options open to whatever the day offers up.
Good luck with the week and maybe a faulty forecast.
I like that blue reflections always add a pleasant impressionistic palette. I like the analogy of the ‘hand’ with ‘a season’s turning’, I guess it’s because I always thought of myself as a pantheist. What’s your idea of pantheism?
Green, blue, and brown are found in every season — at least here — and yet in every season the mixture differs. It’s great fun to see the colors rearranging themselves in different patterns and proportions, time and again.
My idea of pantheism? Honestly, I rarely think of it. Over the years, I have found that other people’s understanding of the term can differ radically. A classmate once suggested that varieties of pantheistic belief could be seen as equivalent to the splintering of Christian belief into various denominations. I thought that was an interesting comparison, and useful.
I do have a tendency to anthropomorphize plants and animals — even insects — but I’m certainly not an animist, and although I’m not willing to equate God and the cosmos, neither can I separate them. There’s an interesting movement called panentheism that’s been developing over the past years. This article gets into the weeds pretty quickly, but the first paragraph’s an understandable introduction.
Thanks for the link. I’ve had to review all these terms all over again. I don’t know why your image and poem reminded me of these philosophies. It’s probable the inclusion of the ‘hand’.
In the middle of the night, I was checking rainfall rates and saw your comment. The first thing that came to mind was this, from Omar Khayyám:
““The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”
That fits the image, too.
That’s beautiful. I like ‘the moving finger’ analogy. Thanks for this review in philosophy.
It reminds me of those very popular pour paintings! Lovely!
Being unplugged is one thing. Being totally oblivious is something else. I never had heard of pour paintings. Now, thanks to the magic of the internet (and the existence of Etsy) I’m sort of up to speed. What interested me most about many of the paintings is how closely they resemble patterns in nature: geodes, rock layers, fungi, and so on. Thanks for the introduction.
Lovely Haiku! It rather does look like somebody took a knife and gave these waters a swirl. I can envision this one hanging in a gallery under the modern art section!
You know what else I’m thinking of now? Finger painting. If this image was red, blue, and yellow, it wouldn’t look so very different from those early art adventures that were such fun and so messy. I’ve rarely tried for an abstract look, but I really was pleased with the way this came out.
Beautiful!xxx
Thank you! More beauty in the world always is a good thing.
Funny thing but I got dizzy as I looked so intently at your photo. It is a nice abstract view though and I surely can’t find fault with this scene. Interesting that you replied to someone above that the waters have quieted as fall approaches. Before long the migrants will be coming in but some of the many songbirds have already been winging their way to Central and South America.
Coincidentally, I just mentioned to Steve S. that the animated images he’s included in his blog a couple of times affect me in the same way. An image like this doesn’t bother me at all, but some of the flashing images online sometimes do.
All of that pretty water is going to disappear for a while, now that Tropical Storm Imelda has come ashore and begun dumping rain. As the creeks, rivers, and bayous begin to flow, they churn up the mud and mix the waters. It will be interesting to see how much rain we get. I suspect you’ll get some benefit from it, too, depending on its track.
The teal are here now, and mallards are coming in. The green herons might be gone, as I haven’t seen one in days. It’s an exciting time, and great fun to watch for new arrivals.
A captured image that could be mistaken for an Impressionist painting. Fabulous (definitely of “moving finger” territory)
It was such a pretty day, and it was obvious that the colors were reflecting nicely. It turned out better than I’d hoped, and obviously set off all sorts of imaginings.
I love reflections on water photos. This is a lovely one. Love the way the greens dominate and the subtly intruding blues.
If the image were turned ninety degrees in either direction, it would vaguely resemble a bargello pattern, albeit one done freestyle and without a repetitive pattern. Like you, I’m in love with the colors, and I’ll be glad for more cooler, settled weather to begin finding them again.