Fringe | Photograffy » blue

Alpine Quietude

david — Thu, 19 May 2011 15:25:37 +0000

The waves stretch to infinity and beyond in the high alpine lake–or at any rate, it certainly seems that way. The silence of the day is absolute, as well, with not a single human sound disturbing the waves as they reach for the edges of forever. Nothing save the gentle lapping of the waves upon the shore, beckoning it to follow them to everywhere, breaks the concentration of the perfect afternoon. A bird, high overhead, calls once, then falls silent, another victim of the siren call of the waves. The waves stretch ever onward and the quietude of the day continues on.

Truly, the magic of this particular lake (Lake San Cristobal near Lake City, Colorado) at this particular moment cannot be overstated. The gentle, rhythmic, waves were in no hurry to go anywhere in particular; the sun, shining so brightly and warm on this spring day, breathed hope and promise everywhere. The snow capped mountains were slowly giving up their white tops in favor of green ones, and the day… ah, the day was perfect.

The day sang out in quietness, the waves continued their march to infinity, and all was perfect.

Hello, Moon

david — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 20:44:49 +0000

Hello, Moon

“Hello, Moon,” said the tree. “It’s been a while since you’ve been around.”

“Hello, Tree,” said the Moon. “I’ve been a little bit busy ‘round the other side, you see. I hurried back as soon as I could, of course, and, well, here I am.” The Tree understood, for this particular cycle had been happening for as long as it could remember, and quite probably longer than that. Still, the Tree missed the Moon when it was away and the nights were a lit bit colder, and a lot more lonelier for all that. The sky was just so much more…alive…when the Moon was there.

The two enjoyed the companionable silence for a little while; good friends that they were words were not always needed. The Moon continued the ascent into the sky; Tree leaned a little closer so as not to miss a word, should a word be said. It wasn’t. But neither seemed to mind. Tree continued a slight lean; not so much that passerby would remark, but enough that passerby, if they were so inclined, would notice.

The evening began to pass, all to quickly. “See you again tomorrow, Moon?” Tree whispered into the night. “Of course,” came the gossamer response upon the breeze. And floating back: “Goodnight, Moon.”

Fall Foretold

david — Wed, 10 Nov 2010 15:58:29 +0000

Fall Foretold

You know it is about to happen, even without looking at the calendar. There is a certain–something–in the air that tells you; perhaps it is the quickening of days, perhaps it is that slight cooler evening, or perhaps, just perhaps, it is the unmistakable signs that nature herself provides.

For example, you might be walking in the mountains next to a clear blue stream. Rounding the bend you see it: the bright red leaves among the otherwise lush and green foliage. Surely, you are seeing things, but as you walk closer you realize it is not an illusion, for the red leaves remain red leaves, and the foretelling is unmistakable.

Fall is coming. Fall is coming. The summer will be departing, but still, one magical time of the year merely gives way to another magical time of the year, and the progression continues.

Monumental Goodnight

david — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 20:29:21 +0000

Monumental Goodnight

The world, just after the sun sets, completely changes. The creatures and the denizens of the daylight hours give way to the mysteries and mayhem of the night. For who knows what lurks there in the darkness?

But the time of transition is also a time of magic in the land. The colors ebb and flow–quickly, far too quickly–transitioning, sometimes, from the golden yellows to the purples to the reds and beyond. Once the sun has set, then the nighttime blues and deeper tones come alive, but briefly, ever briefly, as darkness claims and rules the land.

This is Monument Valley after the sun has set. There isn’t a lot of color left in this particular sunset, save the very one I wanted the most. Blue. And a whole lot of it. This is a personal piece for me. It represents the last gasp of the day. Long after most people have stopped looking, well, that’s the time when the magic happens. And so it is with this piece. The peace; the serenity; the creep of the evening all come alive. Rather than capture this scene while there was more light, this is, to me, far more representative of what it looks like the moment before darkness reigns supreme. It is a time of reflection, of contemplation, of silence. And so… with that, may you have a Monumental Goodnight.

White Solitude

david — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 19:30:52 +0000

White Solitude

There. Deep in the hear of nowhere it sat. Just so, at an angle designed to carefully shield the sun. It rested jauntily upon the top of a dune, a splash of color in the other otherwise desolate landscape. Actually, it was the only splash of color there, apart from the white and the blue of the distant mountains.

White Sands National Monument in southern New Mexico is a place like no other. Trackless, endless dunes of white gypsum sand stretch as far as the eye can see, and beyond. The solitude and the silence deep in the dune field is like no other, and the only sounds heard are those that you yourself make… and even then you are just swallowed up by the vastness. It seems that no matter how far you walk, how many dunes you climb, or how many times your feet step forward there is one more dune ahead of you. Perhaps that’s true, but there is, of course, the mountains in the distance to provide contrast.

Being out among the dunes gives you, however, a deep sense of peace and tranquility. Intellectually, you know the dunes do not stretch forever, yet in your heart and soul you know that they must.

For those who crave solitude, this is the place to be. Just don’t forget your umbrella.