I Just Like It

If you take a moment and troll around the Internet, photos are everywhere. Everybody has a camera nowadays be it a phone, a point-and-shoot, or a SLR.  

Going hand in hand with an image, one can often find a title.  Some titles are simply locations and dates.  For example, LEMP 5 28 2016 could be used.  That would be considered rather dry for a photo contest, though, huh? That would be more for personal cataloging.

Or, titles could be a bit narrative.  For example, as I type, Herbie, our cat, is napping on the window sill.  A photo of him could be titled "Nap Time", "Cat Nap", or what I am sure is an abundance of other possibilities. They could be serious, funny, punny, whimsical, or any other trait one can imagine.

So a few days ago, I was birding Lake Erie Metropark before work.  In previous days, I managed to score a Prothonotary Warbler and a Whip-poor-will. Both were new for my park checklist. It now stands at 255 species.

With a bit of birding luck apparently on my side, I hoped to secure a Connecticut Warbler, a late May migrant.  It would be new but it is not by accident that the bird is not checked off my list.  Simply, it is a very difficult bird to secure in Wayne County.  But so was the Whip-poor-will,right?

Anyhow, as I casually walked the trail, I was struck by the little maple tree leaf trying to make a go of it from the side of the tree...

A quick moment in Photoshop allowed me to turn the trunk black-and-white while the leaf stayed red.

Then it came time to name this blog post based on this image.  From a writing standpoint, where could I go?

Maybe I could mention some neat-o facts about the Red Maple. 

Maybe I could mention the oddity of it growing out of the trunk.

Maybe I could mention photosynthesis.  It's still taking place even if the leaf isn't green.

Then I realized...."Wow, I'm stuck..." I have no title. I have no blog theme.

I have no idea.

In the end, I decided I don't have to decide.  Rush has a lyric "If you choose no to decide, you still have made a choice."   The fact that their vocalist sings like a constipated mosquito is not the point here. The lyric is pretty neat.   

So there.  I won't pick a title.

I just like it.

Trees

Cemeteries are nothing new to me.

With my mom tracing our family tree, it was not unusual for my her to make plans to spend a day or so of the annual family vacation meeting with people to talk about genealogy.  This tactic, of course, predates Ancestry.com, or for that matter, the home computer.  In some capacities, it became a family affair.  In the field, it was not rare for us to get a quarter if we found a tombstone that had been on her hit list.

So here I am  over, three decades later, still appreciating cemeteries. It is not just about who is buried there, but the character overall. To me, new is often sterile while old opens up a whole new world.

If Ohio were a target, Granville would be just about a dead-center bulls-eye.  Located a short skip outside of Columbus, the town is rather, um... sleepy...as you might say.  A metropolis, it is not, with a population of only 5,000 people. In fact, it has been that way for over 200 years.  

A few months ago, my work travels took me to Newark, Ohio (just down the road from Granville).  With plans to meet a friend for lunch, the route took me past the Old Colony Cemetery.  Perched on a small hill just a few blocks from downtown, I knew I had to get back there and investigate.  A quick Internet search on my phone (something my mom couldn't do when I was a kid!) showed that 18 Revolutionary War, 39 War of 1812, and 16 American Civil War veterans are buried there. The Old Colony Burying Ground is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  Quite the place, huh?

With the conference's opening night schedule largely optional, I was gushing with the opportunity to photograph the grounds after dark with a full moon for my lighting.  My buddy Bruce enters his stuff in photo contests and he recently had one where he had to use the moon as the only source of light.  Inspired by the activities of his club, I thought I would give it a whirl.  

What could be more fun than full moon photography in a cemetery that is older than dirt?

It probably would have been a benefit if I had checked the rules before I went there. To my dismay, access to the grounds is prohibited after dark. Sure, I could have argued that the moon was so bright that is is functionally "not dark" and that I should therefore be allowed to enter, but I don't suspect law enforcement would approve.  

With limited options for subject matter and composition, I found myself in an interesting situation.  

The maple tree dominated the scene.  It was my hope to include it somehow. 

Further, the cemetery has a sidewalk below the grade of the grounds (remember, it is on a hill). The overall impact was that I was not just looking at the tree, but looking up at the tree, hence the foreground.

Further yet (and perhaps the most important factor), the light was coming from two directions.  I was facing east with the full moon beyond the tree.  The tree was also lit from the front; behind me was a series of street lights. 

With my rig on a tripod, I set the exposure for 30 seconds. Sure the image was a bit under-exposed, but I was able to lighten it a bit in post processing.  (There is more here to that story - buy me a beer sometime and I'll tell you.) Some larger stars showed up as streaks so I erased them.  (Yes, some people poo-poo that, but I say "Nay! Mind your own business!")  A quick click in Photoshop Elements converted the image to black-and-white.

Voila.

I can honestly say that this is now one of my favorite images.  Generally speaking, I don't have a single favorite anything. Just ask Natalie. Not a favorite beer. Not a favorite bird.  I'm a bit more even keeled than to go out on a limb and say "That so-and-so or such-n-such is my favorite!"  I just don't do it. 

That said, I can't overlook the connections here... 
 

A kid.  His mom.  Old cemeteries.  Genealogy.  

Said kid all grown up.  Fancy camera. Old cemetery.  Neat botany. 

Mom still grown up.  Still tracing.....

...a family tree. 

Invaders

Axes grind and maces clash as wounded fighters fall to the ground
Severed limbs and fatal woundings bloody corpses lay all around

Cheery lyrics, I know.  You can thank Iron Maiden for that. The song, Invaders, chronicles the Saxon collapse at the hands of the Vikings.  While you could Google "severed limbs", you don't need to, I imagine.  Axes? Nah, you have too, I bet.

Mace? What the hell is a mace?  Sure, you can cook with it, but how exactly do you kill someone with a cooking spice derived from nutmeg?

You don't.  This is a mace.

As you can see, getting hit with such a weapon would just suck bad.  About the length of a baseball bat but much heavier, the weight would collapse armor while the spikes could penetrate it.  In the end, the combination of the two would simply be the end of a warrior if the hit was clean and solid.

Nature has invaders, too.

Teasel (or teazel) is an invasive plant species from Europe.  If you haven't seen it, you will soon enough. No, it is not a new problem as it has been here for decades - you'll just be looking for it now.  Look for it around disturbed soils.  Fields, train track right-of-aways, and the shoulders of dirt roads are perfect for it.

Now, tell me it doesn't look like a mace.  I see the resemblance for sure.

Imagine that.  The song Invaders mentions invaders using weapons that look like our invaders.  

Huh.

 

Day 4: A “B” Day All Around

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Despite being the size of a golfball, the Winter Wren really has an amazing song.  It seems to just go on forever…kinda like alarm clocks, but much more pleasant to wake to….

Breakfast was on the lakeshore with morning hiking in the Lake Bailey Aububon Preservejust east of Eagle Harbor.  With hopes of showing Nat a Pink Lady’s Slipper, the cedar swamp was just the place. Not a slipper to be had, but we tried. More Starflower, in addition to 3-leavedSoloman’s Seal and Canada Mayflower made the walk pretty fun.  Birds? Yeah, more of the same. Black-throatedGreens especially.   In any case the hiking was quite neat. 

Departing the Keweenaw, our route had us in the western Upper Peninsula by lunch time. After saving a Wood Turtle from becoming a speed bump and purchasing a new addition to my ever-expanding collections of locally crafted coffee mugs, it was time for me to try a pasty.  (Note: I may have had a pasty during my Boy Scout days a few years back. Okay, decades back.  Honestly, I can’t recall if I did or not…)

Now…um, stop it.  A pasty and a pasty are not the same.  A pasty (the one I had for lunch) is pronounced “PASS-tee” and consists of meat, potatoes, rutabaga, onions and spices in a baked pastry roll-type thing.  They apparently became very popular in the region with the influx of mining immigrants.  Smothered in gravy (some prefer ketchup), it makes a fine lunch. I’ll have one again for sure somewhere.

 A “PAY-stee”, on the other hand, is……different.  Let’s leave it at that. 

Okay, let’s not.

There.   

Now, we’re done.

Porcupine Mountains State Park is basically a must.  Sure, it took me 42 years to get there, but I’m glad I did. Nat has been there before. As you can figure, because she came back, it must be worth it, right?  The park has it all – history, flowers, birds, insects.  It’s a naturalist’s/historian’s dream.

After securing camp, all visitors are required by act of Congress to view Lake-in-the-clouds.  Okay, no you don’t have to see it, but you’re a dope if you pass it up.  You certainly can’t claim that the hike is bad. It’s paved and can be measured in feet.  The view is breathtaking.

Don’t thank the glaciers for this view. Everybody is Michigan wants to think the glaciers carved out the lakes and made the state what it is. No.  Over one billion years ago (this guy was just voted into office), a large seam ran from what is now Kansas to the UP. Lava and such would bubble up and ooze out from this rift.  Over time, after various stone depositions, the entire basin collapsed under its own weight. The basin became Lake Superior (see….no glacier action) while the edges of the basin became features we know today as the Keweenaw Peninsula and Isle Royale.  Lake-In-The-Clouds is nestled along one edge of the basin between two ridges.  It is one mile long and considered one of the premier views in Michigan.  Having a Bald Eagle diddle by really set the stage for us.  Quintessential Michigan!

A pleasant drive to Summit Peak was in order, as well. The grand view of the park from the Tower (over 50 feet tall) placed on a ridge was short-lived as a storm was rolling.  (I don’t claim to be the brightest bulb in the box, but standing on a giant tower in a thunderstorm is not smart.)

After showers (both the weather and hygiene kind) dinner on the lake shore was in order.  Why the lakeshore? The open air, and therefore the lake breeze, should have been enough to knock down the black flies.

Oh yes, the black flies.  Only a few millimeters long, these little bastards have plagued boreal travelers since people first set foot there.  Do they buzz and poke like mosquitoes? No. Like stealth helicopters in Pakistan, they sneak in.  When they find the right spot, they cut you open with their little switchblade mouthparts and lap up the blood.  Anti-clotting agents allow it to flow freely.  You have no idea it has happened until they are gone and you notice that drop of crimson on your arm or leg.  Itching to the point of insanity can ensue, but we didn’t seem to be bothered by that part. We got the welts.  Yum.

That said, it is worth noting that black flies are not the kings of the air. (I should say queens. Only the females bite.  The males eat pollen.) These guys rule the skies….

With a head basically covered in eyes and flight skills that make modern aeronautical engineers drool, dragonflies can snatch black flies and skeeters with ease. Forget about sharks and hawks being good predators.  Most of time, they actually miss their prey.  Dragonflies? Most of the time, they nail it.  Sadly, there just doesn’t seem to be enough dragons to go around.

Of course, the breeze would have been enough, but shortly after setting up dinner, the breeze died to nothing.  Within microseconds, the swarms were upon us.  Hoping to prevent our Chicken and Rice from becoming Chicken a la Black Fly, we ate dinner in the car while watching the storm move out over the lake.  A steady rain settled in. After a round of drinks (no special beers) and munchies in Silver City, we went back to camp for the night.

Yeah, this was a “B” day all around – birds, boulders, bugs, botanicals, beer, and baked goods to name just a few.  I suspect I could keep going….