This morning I walked the island early, before the dawn, and it was ... otherworldly. Like Heathcliff wandering the moors, as those moors of England appear in my fancy ... ghostly still, enshrouded in fog, comprised of a silence so thick and ominous you can feel your body swaddled in its sepulchral embrace. I wasn't really thinking about taking pictures, as I preferred just to open my senses completely to the surreal nature of a setting usually so familiar but now wholly transformed into a scene out of Dark Shadows--the beloved Gothic soap opera of my childhood that featured a storyline centered around the vampire, Barnabas Collins. So taken was I by this creature that I earnestly wished to take Barnabas as my confirmation name, when that rite fell upon me during my Catholic upbringing. My mother wasn't having it, and I ended up with Gerard, my brother's middle name and that of the patron saint of motherhood.
Dark Shadows enthusiast that I once was, you can imagine my surprise and delight when, one evening out walking the island, my lovely companion and I happened to notice, through the window of one of the island's attractive Victorian homes, a painting of Barnabas Collins himself gracing a central wall of the front sitting room (somehow, it seems appropriate to call it a sitting room). We also noticed a number of guitars adorning the adjacent walls, and I thought to myself, the resident of this home is someone I must meet. The house itself would not have been out of place in an episode of Dark Shadows. I have yet to meet the inhabitant of the house, but I'm sure that I wil before long, as the warmer weather returns and people become more visible (the Minnesota winter tends to make people invisible).
And so, it wasn't until my walk was nearly concluded that I pulled out my camera to capture the ambiance of the morning. This shot, I think, nicely conveys the atmosphere surrounding me. The sun had begun to rise, lending a silver-blue tinge to everything it touched. I thought I might happen upon my foxy friend, as I have learned that foxes are nocturnal creatures, most active between dusk and dawn, but no such luck. So I continued wandering around the NW tip of the island, as birds began to call to one another and the islands human denizens began to stir, with the occasional car or jogger breezing past.
Here is a fine example of one of the island's Victorian homes, in which I daresay Barnabas might have felt right at home (as long as it had a basement suitable for coffin storage). I think the picture is not as sharp as it might be, due to my unsteady hand rather than to the morning's murky fog. Nevertheless, I think the picture nicely conveys the beauty of the architecture and the home's Gothic character.
For this shot, I descended to the Tweedy-Loweth Bridge and gazed out to the northwest, where the river comes down from its origins in the much more distant northwest, Lake Itasca in central Minnesota--where you can cross the river's compact mouth in a few steps (a place I have yet to visit!). If you look closely, you can make out a few ducks gliding calmly on the surface (but paddling like hell underneath, or so I am told).
And here I have simply turned to face the opposite direction, where the channel that hugs the island continues to the southeast before rejoining the main body of the river. My morning outing concluded, I head back home to dash off this post and begin the business of a day from which, in all likelihood, the fog will soon lift.
Life flows on, in and around us--often seen and experienced but through a glass darkly--or through a mist that time and nature eventually dissipates; or in other words, that which you cannot see now, you will almost surely see later.
D.E.S.
Dark Shadows enthusiast that I once was, you can imagine my surprise and delight when, one evening out walking the island, my lovely companion and I happened to notice, through the window of one of the island's attractive Victorian homes, a painting of Barnabas Collins himself gracing a central wall of the front sitting room (somehow, it seems appropriate to call it a sitting room). We also noticed a number of guitars adorning the adjacent walls, and I thought to myself, the resident of this home is someone I must meet. The house itself would not have been out of place in an episode of Dark Shadows. I have yet to meet the inhabitant of the house, but I'm sure that I wil before long, as the warmer weather returns and people become more visible (the Minnesota winter tends to make people invisible).
And so, it wasn't until my walk was nearly concluded that I pulled out my camera to capture the ambiance of the morning. This shot, I think, nicely conveys the atmosphere surrounding me. The sun had begun to rise, lending a silver-blue tinge to everything it touched. I thought I might happen upon my foxy friend, as I have learned that foxes are nocturnal creatures, most active between dusk and dawn, but no such luck. So I continued wandering around the NW tip of the island, as birds began to call to one another and the islands human denizens began to stir, with the occasional car or jogger breezing past.
Here is a fine example of one of the island's Victorian homes, in which I daresay Barnabas might have felt right at home (as long as it had a basement suitable for coffin storage). I think the picture is not as sharp as it might be, due to my unsteady hand rather than to the morning's murky fog. Nevertheless, I think the picture nicely conveys the beauty of the architecture and the home's Gothic character.
For this shot, I descended to the Tweedy-Loweth Bridge and gazed out to the northwest, where the river comes down from its origins in the much more distant northwest, Lake Itasca in central Minnesota--where you can cross the river's compact mouth in a few steps (a place I have yet to visit!). If you look closely, you can make out a few ducks gliding calmly on the surface (but paddling like hell underneath, or so I am told).
And here I have simply turned to face the opposite direction, where the channel that hugs the island continues to the southeast before rejoining the main body of the river. My morning outing concluded, I head back home to dash off this post and begin the business of a day from which, in all likelihood, the fog will soon lift.Life flows on, in and around us--often seen and experienced but through a glass darkly--or through a mist that time and nature eventually dissipates; or in other words, that which you cannot see now, you will almost surely see later.
D.E.S.
Some of your finest photography yet
ReplyDeleteWhy thank you, they did come out nice, though I don't consider myself a photog by any stretch. All credit goes to the camera and the riches Mother Nature furnished.
ReplyDelete