Penning Photography Daily

What I thought was a chameleon, turns out to be an anole, closer to an iquana than a chameleon or gecko, which many folk call this tree or shrub loving, sticky-footed, color changing animal.

Not a familiar name for a lizard.

We had just spotted the mama alligator with her three babies, out sunning in the backyards that line the swamp creek in Sea Pines Plantation on Hilton Head Island. Trying to get a closer look, we ventured into the trees that line this side of the creek, and one of us noticed this fellow, who appeared at first to be looking at the gators also.

Each of us had to try their hand at getting a closeup of the critter, as it alternately stayed frozen still and scampered about the tree limbs. This was my best grab, here showing the textured skin and distinctive spots along the tail.

When wandering about a nature preserve that includes a swamp, gators and magnificent and quite ancient tree growth, one never knows what will come up next.

I keep looking and wandering.

As the sun slowly settled into the horizon, it was painting everything that face it with a golden glow.

I noticed this tree, which has a smoother bark than the others that dotted the shoreline, was catching the gold and almost shimmering in the upper branches with that light.

My problem is that immediately to the left of the tree, there stood an outdoor outhouse, flush against the tree. To add to the space squeeze, immediately to the right is a large sign warning anglers about the different specie of fish and whether they should be kept or released.

What I did to solve that and get this image, is to compose with the crop in mind. Instead of a 3:2 ratio, I figured for a 4:5 ratio, which cut off the potty and the sign. I made sure that the tree and sun were in a good position in relation to each other, along with the sun’s reflection in the water.

It was cold out there, but this warms me up.

I went walking along the lake shore this evening, and was treated to the most delightful sunset.

The wind was not blowing too much, where I was, as was my fear when I went out. The temperature was near freezing, 32F, 0C. I had forgotten my hat but had my gloves. As time passed, I had to hang my camera from my neck (I usually carry it permanently in my right hand, with the neck strap wrapped around my wrist) and stick my gloved hands in my pockets. The chill was seeping into my fingers, and after about 45 minutes, I was starting to feel the pins and needles of them being too darn cold.

I used the large rocks that line the shore, put there to prevent erosion, as my focal point. The sun as a counter and the blue sky add a lush background. I love how the sun was making the rocks glow and shimmer.

When the sun was dipping below the horizon, I wished that I had been in several places at the same time. The light changes so rapidly at that time. I stayed for a while after sunset, outside at first. After I was in my car, the changing sunset kept tugging at me, so I rolled down my window and took just a few more. Ten minutes later, as I was heading west, I realized that I should have stayed even longer. The sky was lit up with the slight clouds turning a deep red like a slash across the sky. A reminder that the snow is never over. Even in the dark, the sky keeps up it’s entrancing show.

I’ll linger longer next time.

Once again on the Sangamon River during an Autumn sunset.

This series of photographs in my catalog keep calling me back to work on different images, bringing the image in my mind to life. I grabbed quite a few frames that evening, as the light changed every time I looked away and then back.

I also had a fear growing in me as to when the gates to the park would be locked shut. Dawn to Dusk is the rule. One person’s dusk is another’s sunset, still another’s twilight. Kind of nebulous, in my mind. I had a potential backup plan for squeezing out of the park if I found myself locked in, but didn’t wait around to use it. I left and found another fine place to view the sunset and beyond to dusk and twilight.

The way the leaves were glowing is exactly the image I was trying to capture. The flare of the setting sun was a bonus. I recall standing there, marveling at the changing light having so great an effect on the scene. I walked up and down the curve of the bank, stopping for another point of view, all the while quite aware of the time and light, so quickly slipping by.

Soon, I’ll be heading back to see what ice and perhaps snow does to Mr. Lincoln’s river.

As evening settled into place, the sky was a river of clouds, streaming to the East overhead.

You can see the clear sky to the North, a patch of blue, soon to turn to deep black full of stars.

Without the blanket of clouds, the open sky radiates much of the warmth of the earth up and away. The temperatures plunged to near single digits tonight. Bitter cold with thankfully not much wind.

I’m reminded, with the pattern in these clouds, of a warm quilt to snuggle under, with only my nose sticking out to get chilled as the house cools down overnight. Memories of different quilts, made by different grandmothers and friends pass through my head as the feeling of snuggling brings warmth.

This was one of those ‘I see it, I have to have it’ quick takes, while I was driving.

Again, I’m grateful to have brought the camera with me.

The sky was entrancing.

The way the leaves were lighting up from behind by the setting sun.

I’ve taken the liberty to push the limits here in my processing. I usually don’t do that, but I’m feeling good about stretching my normal boundaries and bringing a deeper feeling through saturation of colors to my photos.

I see things that others don’t. We all do. Each one of us has our unique vision of the world.

I saw the light on those leaves, against that sky and knew I needed to grab it with my camera. The frames lay dormant in my catalog until today, when I went through that November day once again, and saw something that I hadn’t noticed before. I teased it, twisted it, pushed it, and molded into a scene that pleases my eye and thrills me.

It’s nice to be able to go back and relish the day through a photograph.

What is and what I bring to the photograph make for my vision of the scene.

The red leaves of autumn had me at this place in November. I did a previous interpretation of this tree and that sky, and went back to it today. I picked a different frame from the many that I grabbed. This one was very underexposed, part of a series that could be merged to bring out all the range of light. I chose this one for the brilliant red highlights.

The shadow of the tree looms in the foreground, anchors the scene The sky with the chaotic brew of clouds, mixing in the blue gives a swirly counterpoint to the detailed trees.

Something different and something fun.