Painting With Light

“The Road” © R.L. Herron

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

~ from “The Road Not Taken”
by Robert Frost

I took this photo the other day with my Canon 30-D dSLR. It was late in the afternoon in Bald Mountain State Park. There’s not a lot of activity in the park this time of year, and the roads and trails, lakes and picnic tables are little used.

It was really too early in the year to see any fall color and not late enough in the day to take advantage of the waning sun for the decent, warm light photographers want for their photographs … except here.

The narrow road seemed almost enveloped by the park’s underbrush and trees, and the late afternoon sun made it seem like this stretch was a long, dark tunnel coming out into the light.

I could not help being reminded of those last three lines of Frost’s famous poem, one of my favorites. It often amazes me where life has led to this point.

The journey’s certainly not been what I envisioned for myself at sixteen. But, as I look back on it, it hasn’t been bad, either. It’s actually been pretty good, and it’s just … well, it just is.

And I can hardly wait to see what’s on the road tomorrow.

“On Paint Creek Trail” © R.L. Herron

My father died one week ago today. Someone – I don’t remember who – once told me of a quote they had read: “You’re not a man until your father dies.”

At my father’s funeral, I was thinking about that as I stood by his casket. I never felt so much like a child. Several times that first afternoon I cried profusely.

As we drove to the church for the service on Saturday morning, I wondered who would be there. Another “someone” once told me if five good friends came to your funeral, it could be said you had a good life.

As I looked around the church it seemed to me that Pop must have had a great life.

Several people spoke, including all three of my sons. Their comments were impromptu … and magnificent. Their grandfather would have been so proud of them.

I struggled to deliver his eulogy. Although several people said it was moving and nice, I still felt I had left something unsaid.

I was looking at this photograph I took last year on the nearby Paint Creek Trail. The foliage was beginning to wear its autumn best that day. Dad would have liked it. He enjoyed the fall. It reminded him that Mother Nature was not going to go away quietly into the winter.

He was fond of saying things like “you never, ever give up” for times things got a little rocky. It’s probably the attitude that helped him earn the Bronze Star for valor in WWII.

Then it occurred to me … what I had neglected to mention in his eulogy. I have no intention of giving up, Pop … ever.

Thanks for reminding me.

“Detail” © R.L. Herron

Recent world events have made a lot of people stop wondering what’s happening to the domestic auto companies as important events unfold, particularly in Iran, where a surprising interest in free, democratic elections has evidenced itself.

It seems the whole world is hesitating and wondering about the details of the things developing.

Interesting thing about detail. Once you capture someone’s attention, you can seldom have too much.

The shot above has nothing to do with world events, but it is an exercise in detail. The stamen of this flower (please don’t ask me what it is, I am hopeless when it comes to flower names) seem to writhe and gyrate, in this close focus. There is a striking amount of detail, but it’s not really enough.

The focus is ever so soft, the product of a hand-held exposure. I knew I should have mounted the camera on a tripod, but opted not to. I said it was for expediency but, honestly, it was laziness. I just didn’t make the short trip inside (the flower is in our backyard garden, and the tripod was upstairs).

So, what could have been a stunning image, is simply interesting.

They say “the devil is in the detail.” So is the perfection and, in some cases, freedom, we strive for.

Hopefully, lesson learned.

Hmmm…maybe I should write.