When you’re tired of making the same old photos of your garden blooms, try this: manually zoom your lens during a long exposure (shutter speed here was one second) to capture your flower more unconventionally. In this shot of a coreopsis, the blooms surrounding the main one are rendered as ghostly streaks of colour.
I had some help from Lightroom to crop the image and darken sections to minimize distractions like the leaves and the detail in the soil.
Making this radiating effect in a photo was pretty fun. I think I’ll try it on some other kinds of subjects – food, toys, vehicles… maybe even a face, if I can get one of my cats/kids to hold still long enough (the exposure time was one whole second, so I may have to wait until they’re asleep).
One of the fun things about photography is that when you’re in an abstract and painterly mood, you can make just about anything into a sweeping blend of lines and colours.
The subject here is Japanese Blood Grass, a pretty ornamental in my garden that’s green at the base and crimson at the tips. I got in close and tilted the camera vertically during a two-second exposure time.
No paint required.
A beautiful garden appeals to all the senses, and doesn’t ignore the imagination. I’m no master gardener (far from it), but, if I do say so myself, I’m quite skilled at garden admiration.
I’d gushed about the building on site earlier this spring, but many of the garden beds were only emerging at that time. The annuals have now filled out, providing a feast for the eyes, but also an invitation to bend down and brush a hand over the blooms. This artful sculpture alone has several textures covered: spiky sedum, velvety foliage, silky petals and a coarse bed of mulch.
I tried to capture the graceful lines and patterns of this planting – I only wish I’d been able to make a photo from a greater height to really highlight the spread of this bird’s “feathers.”
What’s an appropriate amount of time to spend with a bird made of flowers? Whatever it is, I think I exceeded it. But floral birds were made for admiration.
And I’m really good at that.
The mist lingered this morning, its fine droplets revealing the previously invisible homes of spiders in our lawn and garden. Looking out our patio door, we could see dozens of patches of fine white weave among the backyard foliage.
My daughter took one look and declared that she was never going out there again.
I admire spiders. Unless they’re in the house, in which case I will stop at nothing to return them to the great outdoors. The plan to do so must somehow include staying as far away as possible from the spider. In most cases, said plan involves me calling the Mr. to scoop up the spider and fling it into the backyard.
So despite all my admiration, they still give me the heebie-jeebies. I was determined not to “never” go into my own backyard again, so to prove my bravery to my first-grader, I slipped on my shoes and sidled up close to the dewdrops, trying to get a peek inside the woven funnels where these spiders lurk.
Fine, maybe they’re not lurking. In fact, they’re probably hiding from big, lumbering creatures like me.
My daughter didn’t really stick around to witness my act of courage, but I soon forgot about that as I became preoccupied with the jewels clinging to the silken webs and spruce needles.
Well, I’m no nature expert, but a quick Google search suggests these arachnids are classified as Agelenopsis (“grass spiders”) – and according to spiders.us, they’re “timid” and “non-aggressive.” (Whew.) And, in that case, I’m glad this one stuck around to pose for me.
Generally speaking, the approach of darkness means one thing: it’s past my bedtime. Once the sun has dipped, my camera’s packed away because by then I’m busy tucking in littles (which always seems to take longer than necessary) and then figuring out what to post to this page before I fall, bleary-eyed, into bed.
But the other night – the evening of my solo trip to Stratford – I sat beside the lovely reflecting pool in the quiet garden outside the Festival Theatre and watched the sky deepen to a royal shade of blue, and the pale blooms of the garden begin to glow. It was comfortably warm (even for me) but I was not, for once, a delicious meal for mosquitoes. There was no show at that hour, so the place was more or less deserted.
It was perfect for a first attempt at night photography. My eyes were blearier than usual by the time I got home, but it was worth it.
With a beautiful summer evening to myself, I went slightly snap-happy while wandering the gorgeous gardens in Stratford, Ontario. More to share later… for now, the main man, Mr. Shakespeare:
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