It was a pleasant afternoon for a photo-hike at the F.A. Seiberling Nature Realm of Summit Metro Parks in Akron, Ohio. We chose to take a 1.6-mile earthen trail that traverses woodlands and gullies. I shot a good many photos but not many good photos this time — I really must take a tripod when I do these things! If, however, the journey is the destination, we accomplished what we really came for — a time in nature, paying attention to the world around us. It was time well spent.
summer
All posts tagged summer
A quick visit to Cahoon Memorial Park in Bay Village, Ohio, Friday gave me a wonderful view of the changing weather. It was lovely and warm near the lake midday. Cold and rainy later. The skies and the waters reflected changes that have already taken place, and those about to occur. It was all good.
All right, I went to Hinckley Lake this morning with good intentions. In fact, I did indeed walk and run around the entire lake in an effort to improve my fitness — about 3.24 miles or a good 5K and, they say, nearly 200 feet in climbing! But I couldn’t help looking around and thinking about photography. Oh! I missed the shot of that hovering dragonfly. Damn! I missed the Great Egret fishing just off-shore! Arrrrg! A heron posing perfectly on a sun-bleached tree stump surrounded by water! It was good practice trying to regain my center; stay in the moment. Besides, once my lap was done, I’d go back to the car, retrieve my camera (don’t leave home without one), and run back to see if that heron’s still there! So I did. It wasn’t. The heron had moved and was now wading, a bit far out for the reach of the modest telephoto zoom I’d brought. Then I noticed a second heron a bit farther up the waterway. The first heron noticed the second one and leaped into the air. Then the second bird took off. Click. Click. Click. Camera was set for single-shots! I fired the shutter as quickly as I could. Got ’em! Ah, exercise and photography… kind of like the ski/shoot biathlon in the Winter Olympics, except here I was running, not skiing, and no bullets were involved.
With a little time left and the desire for more photography and exercise, I drove to nearby Whipp’s Ledges and trotted up the steep hill toward the rock face –giving in to expected distraction– camera in hand! Along the way I stopped and photographed a beautifully-lit orb weaver spider’s web, and some lovely blue berries close to a fallen log. Then, onward to the rocks. Mid-morning light was spilling through openings at the summit of the ledge, spotlighting areas below. Lovely, soft, “north” light illuminated the rest of the scene. Dang! No tripod! Capturing a nice selection of views there, I headed back down the hill and then home, happy and sweaty.
It was not storm chasing but my drive this evening certainly was interesting. Lately conditions have been ripe for cumulus clouds to billow up in the late afternoon; contrasted against a clear, blue sky they make dramatic scenes. Last night’s billowing took on the appearance of a pair of clouds that needed a brassiere! I’m not kidding! Sorry, though, I couldn’t get a photo of that! Sometimes you just can’t find a place to get >>that<< shot and it gets away. During tonight’s drive, however, I watched as a column of cloud gradually built up, then flare out. Nearly frustrated in my efforts to get to safe and good vantage points, the cloud stayed together just long enough for me to catch it at a couple of stages. The first open space with a good view was at an electrical substation. I actually like the shot of all those lines and towers crossing the building clouds.
Next came a stop along the freeway. Looking across the asphalt canyon and over the “sound barrier” and trees beyond, I could see that the top of the cloud column was being flattened out; strong winds must be at work. Was this a thunderhead or anvil cloud forming? Briefly, as I continued my drive, I saw lenticular shapes develop, then quickly disappear at the windward end of the column.
Another opportunity presented itself in a subdivision. By then the cloud had really spread out to the north. I like the way the enormous billowy shape towers over and threatens to engulf the pretty houses below!
I continued my drive, watching traffic and glancing at the mushrooming cloud. By the time I reached another open space, the shape was feathering out. No storm was born. No longer of interest. Not storm chasing but It was a most interesting drive.
On a whim we decided to explore the Royalview Trail section of the Cleveland Metroparks’ Mill Stream Run Reservation. Upon arrival we discovered that the park is a haven for local mountain bikers! Single-track, packed-earth trail ranges in difficulty from moderate to advanced and travels through the reservation’s beautiful hilly woodlands. Small streams are crossed, ravines traced and traveled, and narrow wooden boardwalks bridge the park’s softest and most sensitive soil.
Cyclists, trail runners, and walkers were friendly and even helpful. Why not? Surrounded by beautiful natural settings on a warm and beautiful day –one of the summer’s finest– it was hard not to relax and be happy. Cyclists enjoyed the physical and mental challenge of the trails but there was plenty for slower-paced visitors to discover, things missed at a faster pace. At one point I left the trail to photograph the beautiful light reflecting red on a fallen tree’s now-bare trunk. On my way to the tree I looked down at another fallen log and discovered a tiny creature, about an inch in length, standing ever-so-still on the moist surface. It was an Eastern Red-spotted Newt (Notophthalmus viridescens) in its Red Eft phase! I’d never seen one in nature and shot a good many photos of it. Owing to the deep woods and shade, photography was difficult and only one image turned out at all well.
Later in our walk, She Who Must Be Obeyed said, “Look at that!” On the ground, just off the trail, lay three “brains,” or what looked like brains, in the leaf litter. I’ve seen many woodland fungi in the region but never one like that. Looking closely at the growth to photograph it, I noticed it was very popular with the local slug population! I don’t know what they found so appealing but the slugs seemed to like the “brains” very much. We identified this one as Sparassis crispa — the Eastern Cauliflower Mushroom.
It was a splendid and enjoyable time and I’m sure we’ll visit again, perhaps this fall when the colors are likely to be amazing. Perhaps sooner!
I do love the quiet beauty of the morning and I have been long remiss in visiting David Fortier River Park in Olmsted Falls, Ohio. There I have seen the West Branch of the Columbia River in full fury — roaring waters that threatened to end anyone or anything that ventures too near or happens to make a misstep. Recent drought conditions have tamed the rivers here. On this morning’s journey I promised myself to make a quick stop for a taste of tranquility; I am so glad I did. The morning light was subdued by clouds. To spite the drought the stony valley was lush, damp, and green. The river itself was running low, there was no flowing water at all in a tributary joining it, and the peace of the place was thick as the morning’s air. I was reminded of the first time I set eyes upon the park –one of my favorite places– and wondered how I could have stayed away so long. Time passed quickly and I was expected elsewhere. Too soon departed from this lovely place.
The crescent Moon floated low in the late twilight above the neighboring rooftops. It was a beautiful scene. I was unprepared to capture the scene photographically. If I’d have expected such beauty tonight, I’d have most likely loaded my gear into the car and headed for a better vantage point; but all I had was the view from my window and a couple of minutes remaining before a photograph would be impossible. I grabbed my trusty 50D with its exquisite telephoto lens, braced myself on the window frame, and shot through the window glass. The first shot was the best and what you see here. Goodnight, Moon!
I had trouble getting motivated and inspired to do anything today, picking up the camera and heading out into the cloudy, cool, and gray day was just the right thing. As I looked around and discovered quiet beauty and interest in so many places, I became energized. Ironically, it took what many would have considered a gloomy atmosphere to lift my feelings. Sometimes a cloudy day is just the right thing.

















