Transition

Brown Bridge Quiet Area is constantly in a state of transition. As the days pass, those places I hold dear continue to grow and mature. The Quaking Aspens have grown with such resolve, and the Leopord Frogs have too. The grasses below shift, drawing my eye to their presence. The sun is playing a game of hide-and-go-seek with the meandering waters.

Children grow right before our eyes, and this becomes the way of all we know. Moving forward. Time is relative. Sands, stones, black-eyed susans, goldenrod and sedges border where each step forward reveals a new view.

Goodness me, how time weaves its web!

“I have never seen so much goldenrod in my life.”

“I really need to quit talking to myself!”

Indeed I do.

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The Goldenrod has taken quite a liking to its surroundings. (Image Copyright The Wilderness Journal 2020)

I succeed in keeping my silence for a time while I continued down the path. The winds blew in random intervals and the clouds moved in. Rain is predicted, but must be skirting the preserves boundaries. Rain is predictably unpredictable. My eye continues to search for perfect compositions. The clouds above continue to accumulate.

I frame the shot. Fiddling with exposure settings is half the fun. This is especially true of the FujiFilm S-4000: it only offers 2 f-stops at a time.

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While not my best composition, I cannot help but be drawn to the distant treeline. (Image Copyright The Wilderness Journal 2020)

I finally succeed in my settings…just right. The graduated ND filter affixed via duct tape and a plastic tube have been worthwhile.

“Why cannot all cameras come with filter threads?”

I am in conversation with myself again.

I see tire tracks pressed into the sand ahead. It is the guy on the mountain bike, whom is much further ahead of me. Mountain bikes are prohibited here. I can see the allure of riding here though–not sure if he is aware of this restriction?

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Mid August is perhaps the pinnacle of summer’s design. (Image Copyright The Wilderness Journal 2020)

The clouds above continue to shift and morph. Rain drops begin to fall. Though not many. As soon as they begin, they vanish. I miss the days of steady drizzle saturating the Earth. Transition.

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The sky darkened for a brief moment, then began to clear up. (Image Copyright The Wilderness Journal 2020)

It is a lesson for us all. Transition is inevitable. What was becomes memories. What is becomes reality.

Adam K.

 

 

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