“Rain is grace; rain is the sky condescending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.”
~ John Updike

“A crown is merely a hat that lets the rain in.”
~ Frederick The Great

Unedited except to crop. Natural light.
Nikon D700, Nikkor 50mm 1/4 lens, f/1.4, 1/80, ISO 200, manual, spot metering, Manfrotto tripod. Converted from RAW/NEF to B&W jpeg using Nikon’s Capture NX2.

Meanwhile, the extension tubes are fun and the hills (mountains) are with the sound of buzzing mosquitoes as we approach the summer equinox. Sunset at 11:40 p.m., or 19 hours and 19 minutes of daylight.

The days become shorter slowly and then rapidly gain speed—five minutes of lost light a day. But then snow! Yippee!

Simply trying to be in the moment is a tough lesson to learn. At least for me.

“Jury service is one of the most important civic duties. You do not need any knowledge of the legal system to be a juror. The protection of rights and liberties of litigants in [state and] federal courts is largely achieved through the teamwork of judge and jury.”

…waiting…

I read these heartening words on the brochure while waiting to see if one of three criminal trials would need me, good ole number 20. Forty of us had arrived that Tuesday morning in the freezing, icy temperatures to do their civic (and required) duty. Apparently, juror’s mere presence can act as a deterrent toward a lengthy or even short trial by jury, particularly if we as jurors glare at the defendants. Perry Mason wasn’t there, nor was Hamilton Burger or Lt. Tragg. The bailiff dismissed us.

That means I’m free of that kind of civic duty for another 24 months. Again.

Meanwhile, I spent a little time taking photos with my iPhone, and memorialized the womenfolk’s restroom. The couch made a nice touch; even though it was early and the wait felt tedious, I didn’t use it.

…waiting…

”…I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos…”

– Wallace Stevens

“I lift my head in surprise, my heartbeat quickening at this familiar yet uncommon call. Uncommon, at least, in my neighborhood. I’ve been told that dozens of great horns are scattered throughout the city, most often heard–and occasionally seen–in large, wooded areas like Kincaid and Hillside parks.”

This excerpt comes from one of author/adventurer Bill Sherwonit’s essays called “Listening to Owl”. He writes with a clean, spare style of how routines such as taking out the trash at 10 p.m. can let one hear a great owl calling to another owl, or see an aurora in a cold sky.

Sherwonit has just published a new book titled Changing Paths: Travels and Meditations in Alaska’s Arctic Wilderness. The book explores the author’s long-running and life-changing relationship with the Central Brooks Range. Sherwonit’s blog has more details about this and his other books.

A metaphor is an implicit comparison of one thing to something else: “my love is a red, red rose”. A simile, of course, is a kind of metaphor that makes the comparison explicit using “like” or “as”: “my love is as beautiful as a red, red rose.”

Thus writes Harold Davis in his article Myths, Metaphors, and Digital Photography. Unfortunately, Davis concentrates on the links between film and digital cameras and processing. I’m more interested in the subject and when or if photographers use metaphors to convey a story.

For example, in this photo shot by Howard Marsh, the metaphor could be love of dogs, sharing a moment (the Labs love it when I sit at their level or point of view), or the viewer might see nothing of the kind.

In expressive photography, we rely on visual symbols to represent abstract ideas. A symbol stands for something with a larger meaning. We may also call them metaphors. Some of the most famous photographs endure because of their symbolism”

Thus begins a tantalizing article in pbase.com entitled Using symbols and metaphors to express meaning. The writer accompanies each photographic example with text explaining his reaction to the metaphor — far better than I could here. But I’ll give it a go.

For those familiar with rutting moose in the fall, this photo might convey autumn, an end to a season, and, had I left the suburban sight of powerlines in the photo, wildlife accommodating to life in the ‘burbs of Alaska. Or, in this case, not man versus nature, but man and nature, and especially nature and people with cameras coexisting. The hedge can always be replaced, while the moose are necessary for the balance of diversity in nature. But that’s fodder for another post, perhaps.
(© Photo by Jan Timmons. Photo above by Howard Marsh)

When I consider the unique challenges of telling stories within the confines of a single photographic frame, two aspects of storytelling come to mind. The first is the study of themes that tie the image to our deeper, more universal human experience. The second is conflict, revealed in the frame by contrasts. With regard to technique, the photo essay is the time-honored means by which photographers have told longer stories, and composition the means within our single or multiframe stories to move the plot forward.

From duChemin’s book Within the Frame: The Journey of Photographic Vision

While I can feel the wind, the elation at seeing a friend and her dog after almost a year, and a beautiful autumn day, I didn’t quite capture the story. Movement, either hers or, in this case, panning her with the camera to create more blur in the background as she and the pooches ran, might have helped to create more of a story.

Practice needed!