On a warmish and grayish morning, I set out to see what I could find happening along Piney Woods Church Road. I re-took several photographs whose images will likely appear in this blog sometime this year — resurrection ferns, lichens, and an endless array of leaves, vines, and stalks of winter weeds. I photographed the ripple marks in the rut at the end of the road again — the water has mostly dried up, although additional rain is expected overnight. In the end, though, I did not choose any of those subjects for today. Instead, I offer this white cow in a field most of the way toward Rico Road. It lounged in the field like a cow sculpture, not even moving (or blinking, as far as I could see) while I wandered by and snapped several photos. What was it thinking as it gazed at me?
Bright mid-morning sunshine greeted my arrival at Piney Woods Church Road today. The road was no longer covered with flowing water, and yesterday’s water droplets were gone. Still, I found plenty to photograph, including various vines, resurrection ferns, and reflections in the water remaining in roadside ditches. Toward the end of my walk, a persimmon leaf, still attached to a sapling and still mostly dark green, beckoned me. I took out my +10 macro lens — one that actually has to be pressed into the subject of the image in order to achieve focus — and took several images of the leaf. The result is this leafscape, vibrant with color in the midst of a drab Georgia winter.
Eleven days into my Piney Woods Church Road project, and already I feel compelled to break my self-imposed rule of only posting one photo per day. I find this image so haunting and disturbing that I feel compelled to share it, yet I find it too dark for my 365 project. What makes this picture so troubling? It is only a shriveled oak leaf, somehow caught up in the tendril of a greenbrier. Or is it?
The tumultuous thunderstorm of early morning had passed, and the fog was lifting. I arrived at Piney Woods Church Road to discover, quite literally, a river running through it — flowing down the roadway and into the very same ruts that had been covered in ice just a few days before (see Day Seven). Now, the rut held a lovely pattern of ripple marks, sedimentary structures formed by the action of water flowing across the silt of the roadbed. I tried to take a photo of the ripple marks without any reflections present, mostly for my own appreciation as a geologist. But each time I attempted to do so, I ended up in the photograph, regardless of which side of the rut I stood, or how wet my feet became in the process. Ironically, the result was this delightful self-portrait.
As my project duration moves into the double digits (365 definitely feels like a long way off!), clouds have returned to the Georgia Piedmont. On a highly humid day (near one hundred percent), I ventured to Piney Woods Church Road in the early afternoon, in search of fog. There were light patches that helped soften the background landscape a bit, but nothing particularly enticing to photograph. Instead, though, I quickly discovered the potential of photographing water droplets suspended from the tips of leaves and branches. Using my plus four macro lens, I took dozens of droplet photos as I walked toward Hutcheson Ferry Road and back. My first — and last — photographs were taken of droplets on the leaves of cedar trees growing along the edge of a property bordering the road at its intersection with Rico Road. Facing the intersection, I framed my photos to include the brilliant red of the stop sign, out of focus in the background. Returning along Piney Woods Church Road, I wondered if it might be possible to take the same photograph, but include a vehicle driving by. The result (on the second attempt) was the image below. I have titled it “Stop Action” to reflect the juxtaposition of the car racing by with the “frozen in time” feeling created by the water droplet, with the stop sign adds further to this visual contradiction. I am tempted to add that this is probably one of my most didactic photos I have taken lately, recommending that we “stop action” from time to time in order to notice the ephemeral and the beautiful all around us. How often have we allowed ourselves the time after a light rainfall to wander the land, admiring the lingering water droplets that cover pine needles and honeysuckle vine tendrils like tiny jewels?
By the time I set out on a late afternoon saunter to Piney Woods Church Road, the leaden skies had given way to a fine mist — not quite fog, and not quite a drizzle, but approaching what Thoreau called a “mizzling” rain. It was certainly not a day for sunset opportunities. Indeed, it was one of those days that I knew, sooner or later, would happen. Throughout most of the walk, I was accompanied by a small voice in my head, telling me that I was running out of photograph opportunities, and how silly I must be for thinking that this short gravel road outside Atlanta would somehow yield a trove of images and experiences. I persevered nonetheless, dutifully photographing a rock with lichens and mosses (not in sharp focus) and a single red greenbriar leaf against a background of tan-brown fallen leaves from last autumn. I photograph both of these every day now; be watching for when they appear in this blog. I was tempted to turn back early, satisfied with either the rock or the leaf, but I continued to where Piney Woods Church Road meets Hutcheson Ferry Road. Standing in a ditch beside the intersection, I took this photograph of moss with clinging water droplets, using my +4 macro lens. I am reminded, for some reason, of a rolling Irish landscape. Perhaps because it seems always to be raining in Ireland…..
Some of my photographs, such as the ice mural from yesterday, are very much premeditated creations. It was a brutally cold Tuesday afternoon, and I expected to find interesting ice patterns somewhere along Piney Woods Church Road. Once I saw the marvelous examples of frozen ice bubbles in rut marks, I knew I had my image for the day. Today’s photograph, on the other hand, was much more serendipitous. I anticipated a few clouds at sunset, since tomorrow is predicted to be mostly cloudy. What I did not anticipate (or discover, until I got home and reviewed my photographs) was the image below. It looks as if the tree branches and clouds are interacting with each other — the tree branches somehow pushing the cloud edges away.
Only a couple of days ago, I recall setting off down Piney Woods Church Road, from its intersection with Rico Road, and finding deep muddy ruts along the road edge. I remember being upset by this disfigurement of my daily journey. Yet, passing by that same spot today, I discovered the beautiful, intriguing patterns of ice bubbles frozen into those very ruts. What before was unsightly has now been rendered attractive and photo-worthy. The result is this “ice mural”, an image which I can imagine painted into the side of a building in some city somewhere. The abstractions suggest a landscape with figures — but I will leave interpretations to readers. What do you see in this image?
I set out with every intention of photographing the sunset. After all, it is one of those things that all outdoor photographers inevitably do from time to time. And, I am proud to say, I took quite a few sunset photos from Piney Woods Church Road. It was, without doubt, the slowest sunset I have ever witnessed. I stood at the edge of a cow pasture, hands in pockets, waiting. The pockets kept my fingers from getting numb, but in the 25-degree air (with winds gusting to 25 miles per hour), I could feel my wrists getting numb where they were exposed between pocket edge and coat sleeve. While I waited, I snatched what photos I could, including more cows, winter weeds in the golden hour light, and a few quick-flitting LBJ’s (little brown jobs, as ornithologists affectionately refer to small brown nondescript birds). Usually, by the time I would have the camera lens zoomed and focused, the bird would be long gone from its perch. I would wait a few more minutes, another bird would perch somewhere, and the race against the clock would begin again. Photographing small birds is, for me, a bit like entering the lottery. Perhaps it was my lucky day — I learned this morning that I won a prize in a drawing at a school where I used to teach — but I was surprised to find when I returned home that a couple of my LBJ shots were actually quite lovely. My day’s contribution to this project is a small bird — a sparrow, perhaps? — perched in the tree branches beside a pasture along Piney Woods Church Road. The bird has fluffed up its feathers, doing its best to keep warm. It is comforting to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of the arctic blast that has covered the Piedmont of Georgia.
Yet another gray-sky afternoon, but much milder than yesterday — I delighted in the warm (mid-50’s), moist air that is the precursor to an arctic front expected to sweep through Georgia overnight, bringing rain turning to snow by Monday morning. I spent my time along Piney Woods Church Road mostly experimenting with my macro lenses. My favorite shot of the day contained, yet again, a cow, though it plays a cameo role in the background. I am weaning myself slowly from cows. Tomorrow, I promise myself, will be a cow-free day.