Every year in the Northeastern U.S.,we are lectured by meteorologist types about the linkage between the climate, and the quality of the fall foliage.

Now, it seems to me that most fall seasons are reported to be
drier than normal. This tends to result, we are told, in attenuation of the
colors of autumn leaves, and thus a dull 3^rd season.

Now it seems that whatever happens, the fall colors suffer.

This year, the spring summer and early fall were much wetter
than normal. Seasonal totals are significantly higher at this point in the year that an
entire years precipitation from as far back as 1951. It has rained a lot in the last 6 months.

And interestingly,  the foliage has suffered. Issues became apparent in mid
September when Maples, and some Oaks, did not assume their usual autumnal display
of reds and crimsons, but turned brown, and shriveled on the tree. Apparently
the wet conditions caused a normally inconsequential fungus to become a
problem, injuring several tree species, and causing their leaves to bypass the
fall colors we look forward to.

This affected mainly the reds of the season. The birches,
beeches, and some maples still turned yellow or gold. The deep crimson of many oak species less affected by the fungus, were also dulled looking, definitely more brown than red.

Many leaves just fell. By mid-October which is usually “peak
leaves” in these parts of Pennsylvania, the canopy was almost completely open, its leaves brown, and trampled underfoot.

As a landscape photographer, you do what you can to find beauty,
when nature conspires against you.. You look for isolated scenes with good
color. You include geologic or man-made artifacts into images. Or, you look for
patterns and texture.  Black and White can work when the foliage is dull. You try to make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.

Finally, on the 28^th of October, nature lobbed a softball to those of us that shoot outdoors. The Pennsylvania Mountains received nearly a foot of snow, while there was still some color on the trees. The snow created a new canvas
on which to depict the fading autumnal display, and grab a few more images
before things fade  to the dull façade of November. The white stuff lasted several days before succumbing to the late October sun.

Now, I look out my window to view a scene cloaked in the
browns and grays of the early winter. It’s early in the morning as I write this;
a heavy frost clings to the fallen leaves and grass.

There are still things to photograph in a Northeastern
Pennsylvania November. I’ve written about it here and here.

But for me, this weekend, I will put away the camera gear
and break out the leaf blowers and rakes to deal with the remains of last year’s
fall scenery,  a good bit of which now covers my lawn.

Soon, the snow will fall, and hopefully stay.

It’s been a lean summer photographically. As fall
approaches, my folder of good summer images is painfully thin.

I suspect my lack of production this season has multiple
factors. One would be the professional distractions mentioned in the article
below. Having a lot on one’s mind, with the stress that goes along with it, can
definitely dampen the creative drive.

I also think that I’ve developed a bit of photographic
fatigue. Though I have traveled a bit this summer, for the most part I  have work, and thus have to and stay close to home, driving though the same places I have been through before.

Often, I will see an interesting scene and then realized that I already have an image of it in my archives somewhere.

Sometimes it is worthwhile reshooting the scene if light is
better, or to acquire it with a higher quality imager, but that can seem tedious
relative to finding a novel subject for capture.

As I get older, I have become more discriminating. For
better or for worse, I am more selective on when I trip the shutter. I think I
have a better sense of “what works” in terms of good landscapes. I pass on
scenes I might have shot in the past.

Another issue is the loss of scenery caused by development.
On of my favorite local areas to shoot is the Butler Township-Conygyham Valley region of Pennsylvania, outside of city of Hazleton. I have a branch
office in the area; on a Monday afternoon after office hours, I like to drive
around, looking for scenic spots.

Problem is, that over the past 10 years, so many if the farms have succumbed to development, that the former scenic vistas are now cluttered with new houses. I have many images that would be nice to reshoot, but it is now impossible because the “view shed” has been corrupted.

Finally I think that believe that a portion of my decreased output
can be blamed on White Nose Disease.

Yes – I’m talking about the fungal infection responsible for
a huge decline in the Northeastern U.S. bat population.

At Nescopeck State Park, for instance where I often
hike, there is a large “bat house” erected in the park above an informational
display about the little winged creatures. In summers past, standing
underneath, one could hear the scratching and the cries of parent bats and
their pups, and note the telltale splashes of guano on the ground below. Not now, as the house is silent, the grass, unstained.

Now, I do a lot of shooting while hiking. The loss of the bats, combined with a wet spring and summer means that the flying insect population has seriously increased. I rarely had a problem with Mosquitoes before. Now when I stop walking to photograph something, I am swarmed upon by hundred of the pesky critters.

Forget carrying a tripod, you’d be bled dry before you could set it up. The best I could manage during this season have been a few “grab shots” before being assaulted and forced to start moving again.

I miss bats. I rarely see one anymore. Interestingly we had
one in the house several weeks ago which we gently caught and released into the night. Hopefully he or she is resistant to the fungus, hungry… and prolific.

Hopefully the onset of autumn will rekindle my enthusiasm a
bit.

Maybe I need to challenge myself, for instance limiting my
photography perhaps to a single focal length, subject, or theme.

Or, I need to buy some better insect repellent.

I’ve been distracted this summer, and this blog has
suffered.

My professional situation is evolving, happily for the
better, but I have been somewhat distracted by the negotiations required to
relocate my office, and establish new affiliations with not just one, but two
health care organizations.

All of this will lead to  new office space at John Heinz Institute of
Rehabilitation Medicine in Wilkes Barre and my involvement with sleep labs in our local Veteran’s Hospital, and one run by the Hazleton Health Alliance, in that city to our south.

I still have to physically move the office and still have a
lot of work going forward but I should be able to be more attentive to this
little project of mine.

I hope you’ll make it a point to check in from time to
time.

Last Sunday, I found myself on a drive in the farmland between White Haven, and the town of Weatherly, near my home in Pennsylvania. This is a rural area, and I was hoping to find scenes featuring the rapidly melting snow, hopefully contrasting with subtle signs of spring.

Once I reached Weatherly, I drove to the area near Black creek, where there exists an old railroad yard with a roundhouse and foundry, used to build and repair steam locomotives.

From signs on the site,  could see that there was an effort underway to restore and preserve these venerable structures. From what I could see of the buildings current condition, this would be a formidable undertaking to say the least.

The largest building was open, so I thought I’d explore. I grabbed my D 7000, mounted the only “fast” lens I had with me (a 35mm f 2.0 Nikkor) and my  monopod, and entered the structure.

The building was huge, largely empty, but still there were artifacts of the past scattered about. A huge press, undoubtedly too big to move, sat near one of the huge doors.

The cantilevered roof had collapsed in the center and water from melting snow cascaded over the huge support beams and showered the center of the interior. I began to shoot, mildly concerned about the potential for falling debris.

I realized that this would be a good opportunity to test the dynamic range of the D-7000.

As an owner of a Fuji S-5 I am spoiled.  This camera has an extraordinary ability to record a wide range of brightness in a single shot. The D 7000 however, is supposed to be even better.

To take advantage of this attribute you have to shoot each camera differently.

With the S-5, one exposes to the left; or in other words, one sets the exposure so that the darkest regions are reasonably exposed , but leaves the highlights be just a bit “burned out”. Given the dual-pixel design of the Fuji sensor, you can “pull back the highlights in Photoshop, and still find detail.

With the D 7000 the exposure is set in the time-honored method of exposing to the right, setting the camera so that  the brightest part of the scene is well exposed, but the darkest areas look black.

In Photoshop, one can then use the “brightness” and “fill light” sliders (working as always, in RAW) to bring up the dark portions of the image.

The problem usually is, that when one “pushes” the dark areas, you usually end up with noise, which limits what you can do.

With the D 7000 however, you seem to be able to push hard on the dark areas without creating the luminance and color noise that plagued earlier designs. I’m not sure why the lower-noise Fx Nikons wouldn’t be even better for this, but apparently they’re not (except at higher ISOs).

On the image above, there was some snow at the threshold of the door that I couldn’t help overexposing.

Here’s one more shot, from a different vantage point.

All in all, I am rather impressed with this little DSLR.

Anybody want to buy an S-5? (They still shoot the best wedding Jpgs around.)

Nescopeck Creek in March ( Olympus E 510, Zuiko 14-42mm f 3.5)

 

It is exactly one calendar year since I decided to sign on to WordPress and start writing a blog.

In a year, we have gone from having no audience, to a burgeoning group of  visitors who seem to stop in regularly to see what’s new.

In a  year, we have had almost 18,000 visitors to this site. Trust me, compared to well established sites, these numbers aren’t really impressive, but they are a beginning. And we’ve been growing every month.

 We’ve had 60 posts, or roughly 5 a month.

 Of late, professional responsibilities have prevented me from more frequent postings; but in the next several months I hope that things will calm down a bit, and I will have more time to devote to writing, which I truly enjoy.

I’ve noticed a couple of patterns in terms of site traffic..

The most frequently visited posts are those related to photography, particularly, equipment reviews. Needless to say, those will continue to be featured. The big problem for me is that at this stage I have no one loaning me equipment… I review what I have purchased.

Near as I can tell, the most popular post of the year was my article on the Nikon D 7000 which continues to attract visitors.

I plan to spend time in the next several weeks searching the WordPress site for a new blog format which will improve the usability and appearance of Henry Smith’s Cottage. Bear with me.

And please keep commenting on what is published… I have truly enjoyed interacting with those of you who kindly share your thoughts.

I really enjoy the challenge of holding the attention of those of you who have visited my internet home.

I hope you will keep stopping by.

As I have written in the past, there is something cruel about early spring in the highlands of Pennsylvania.

 The winter of 2011 will be remembered in these parts, not for the large amount of snow we received (actually only 50 or so inches here where I live) but for the relentless cold that maximized its impact, and kept the ground, sidewalks and at times the roads, covered with the white stuff.

 In the forests, the snow cover was between a foot, or maybe two, for much of the winter. There was no true “January thaw”, like we usually experience.

It was so relentlessly “winter” here, that I decided to forgo my usual March Adirondack trip, and went to Florida instead.

Even there, the season’s grasp had not relinquished. We had cool temperatures during our travels, mainly in the 50s and 60s.  

There had been multiple freezes in January and February, injuring the subtropical vegetation. From Jacksonville to Cape Coral, we encountered cold-injured palms, their fronds brown, and falling to the ground. In the estuaries and tidewater areas, the mangroves were lifeless when we were told that they should have  been lush and green.

Because of this, several scenes I shot seem to work better as monochromes rather than in color.

 

 Back at home, at least for some of us, there was an upside. We had reliable cross-country skiing and snowmobiling from early January until the first week of March.

On the downside, I burned a lot of firewood and of course, heating oil.

Photographically at least , snow and cold are helpful,  shrouding what would be a brown lifeless landscape with season appropriate trappings ,  decorating the farms and forests.

Winter however, was starting finally break. Last Sunday afternoon, I walked a local trail, called “Frog Pond Way” named for the multiple permanent, and “Vernal” ponds, that it encircles.

It was a clear day with the bright spring sun warming to me to a degree beyond what the 50 degree air temperature might suggest.

The cries of a flock of newly arrived robins, the distant call of a pilated woodpecker, and the cooing of mourning doves filled the air.

In every suitable body of water I encountered, a pair of mallards paddled together, occasionally tipping their heads down to the muddy bottoms to search for food. I surprised a pair of cormorants resting at one of the larger ponds.

And at one particular pond I encountered what I consider the truest sentinel of spring. As I approached I could detect the first tentative chirping of wood frogs, beginning to search for females.

I knew that there was some mixed precipitation forecast for the overnight, but not something that should slow spring’s progression. Or so I thought. One Monday morning we awakened to find two inches of snow on the ground. Twenty four hours later, eight more had fallen. We’ve had daytime temperatures in the low thirties since, with lows in the teens.

 I cross-country skied again yesterday, the scenery once again resembling what is seen in late January.

As always, March is full of surprises.

 

Small Spruce on Black Pond (Olympus E 510, Zuiko 11-22mm f2.8)

 

 Cross Country Skiing???…that’s too much work.

I am fortunate to reside in a portion of the eastern Pennsylvania Mountains (hills, really) where snow is fairly reliable from January through March. I also have a residence in the High Peaks region of the Adirondack Park in northern New York, where one can generally add a month on each end of the Pennsylvania snow season.

Since childhood, I have enjoyed snow sports of all kinds, but for the last thirty years, skiing, has been a dominant winter activity. It’s pleasant, that in both of the locales where I reside, that most of, my friends are also skiers.

I have been an avid downhill and Telemark skier in the past, but a bum left knee has left me somewhat hobbled in this regard. While allowing a few years to pass prior to undergoing knee replacement, I continue to at least be able to cross-country ski, which in some ways I enjoy more than its more glamorous sister sports.

Cross Country Skiing has several advantages. First, it’s cheap, both in terms of equipment and venue costs. To get fully outfitted for downhill skiing (skis, boots, bindings, and poles) could cost US$600-1000. I can find a nice touring cross-country set up ( the kind of skis you’d use on your local golf course or hiking trail) for between US $250-350.

Then there’s the clothing. Alpine skiers tend to use different clothing (warmer, less emphasis on breathability, more emphasis on style) whereas, if you’re already hiking in all seasons, cross-country garb tends to be an extension of your typical outdoor layering clothing strategy.

Some of my crusty old friends still insist on skiing in wool sweaters, and knickers with knee socks like we used to do thirty years ago.  Oddly enough, wool works pretty well, except that everything tends to stick to it. You look like a snowman if you fall.

Then there is the venue. In the Adirondacks, a day of skiing at two Olympic skiing sites varies rather widely. At the time this was written (2011) a downhill ski lift pass at Whiteface Mountain is around US $80. By comparison, to ski at the Van  Hoevenburg, Cross Country Ski Center (as well-groomed and full featured as anywhere in the country), costs a relatively modest US$20. Its trail system connects to the equally lovely Cascade Ski Center where a ticket is an even more reasonable US$12. In truth, resorts such as these are a luxury.  Most of the time, I end up “backcountry” skiing on public land where typically there is no fee.

 

When I bring up the topic of cross-country skiing to someone who has never tried it, the invariable comment is something like: “that’s a lot of work”. Actually once you learn the technique, moving at a brisk pace over level or even rolling ground is fairly easy. Like all forms of athletic activity though, if pursued with vigor, it’s a formidable workout.

Photography from skis can be very fruitful. Whether on alpine gear at a downhill resort, or on a tour on Nordic skis, the surrounding scenery tends to be rather striking.

Doing photography however, while pursuing any athletic activity has its problems.  Active muscle tone and a bounding heartbeat can make obtaining sharp images a challenge. Camera stabilization is very important. Something as simple pausing for five minutes after exertion to allow your heart rate and “contractility” to subside a bit can help to avoid camera shake. Ski poles, tripods and, in fact any fixed object you encounter can be helpful.

It can be intimidating to carry hundreds, if not thousands of dollars worth of camera gear in a pack if you are not a confident skier. Hone your ski skills before packing up your most valuable gear before a challenging run. Until your pretty sure you’re not going to fall onto and crush your brand new point and shoot ( or fall on your D3 , and injure yourself), pack along more expendable equipment. If you’re not yet ready to ski with your camera equipment, snowshoes can be another, somewhat easier way to venture into the winter wilds.

I really like the Panasonic G-series cameras for skiing because they are light, moderately priced but can still capture high quality images. They are also fairly sturdy, but I still think that they would deform in an accident, sparing my spleen.

I tend to carry camera gear in a large “fanny pack” with a shoulder strap over my left shoulder, and the hip belt tight enough to inhibit bag migration. When I want to shoot, I loosen the belt, and swing the band over my right hip, towards the front, where all of the contents are convenient to access. The Mountainsmith pack that I use fits a G series camera with several lenses, extra batteries and memory, a water bottle, plus room to carry a shed layer, all without disturbing my sense of balance.

Longer, more ambitious winter trips require gear that will only fit in a larger backpack. In this case, a smaller fanny pack can be carried up front, for quick access to your camera gear.

Skiing into remote areas allows one to observe and photograph even familiar territory in a whole new light, and get some wonderful winter exercise.

 And it’s really not that much work.

 

Pennsylvania Winter Farm (Nikon D7000, Nikkor 16-85mm f3.5)

 

Occasionally, a budding photographer will approach me for advice on how to capture better images.

I think that my answer must disappoint them. I’m sure most beginners really hope that I can direct them towards the purchase of a particularly sexy piece of gear, such as a camera body, or a particular lens that will set their photography afire.

They want to talk about gear. I want to talk about composition, and technique. Particularly, I want to talk about rather mundane basics such as the nature of optics, shooting discipine, and camera, and lens support.

Not that there aren’t some great photographs blurred by subject motion, or camera movements.

Most great images are sharp, even if it is at a narrow point of focus selected by the shooter.

 Generally, for an image to be sharp, the camera and lens need to be still relative to the subject, as the shutter is released.

Now, there are many ways to properly stabilize a camera.

My first rule would be: the human body unaided, is at best, only a fair camera support.  Now true enough, a practiced pro shooter can hand-hold, and certainly achieve great results, usually far better  than an amateur. There are reasons for this. First, the pro is practiced at taking still images, much in the way a fine marksman, can draw a bead and hold very steadily on his target. It takes concentration and lots of repetition. There are places to learn this: here, and here.

 Most amateurs have lousy technique. They think that they can hold a camera, arms akimbo, far out from the body, trying to shoot a telephoto shot through a slow zoom lens, at an impossibly slow shutter speed, and still achieve Sports Illustrated quality shots of their precious soccer-playing offspring. It doesn’t work that way.

A pro understands that the proper shooting technique is to hold the arms close in to the body elbows braced against the chest or abdomen, and the viewfinder pressed against the face. Holding as modern digital camera out away from you while you frame with the viewfinder, is generally going to lead to fair snapshots, but lousy fine art prints.

Also, often pro camera gear, is heavier. This means that the poke of the finger on the shutter, and the movement of the mirror and shutter, on an SLR, is working against the greater mass of, for instance,  a heavy, metal-bodied  camera such as a Canon 1Ds mark II, rather than a diminutive plastic consumer grade Digital Rebel. It thus creates less blur-inducing movement.

 Most landscape purists use tripods… period. Many shoot large-format cameras that are too unwieldy to be practical for anything but tripod mounting.  The true purist would use, very heavy tripods with equally beefy camera mounts that add mass to the camera body and couple it rigidly to the floor or ground, essentially eliminating camera movement.

Tripods are great for detailed images. They are less useful when for hiking long distances, for discreet shooting and sometimes, for spontaneity.

 Obviously, there are available, stabilized lenses, known as IS lenses for Canon,OIS for Panasonic, and VR lenses for Nikkor. These can partially make up for camera shake. Modern Sony, Olympus, and Pentax SLR lenses are generally stabilized by the camera body itself. Whether in the lens or body, stabilization is a useful feature, but can only be counted on to compensate for modest camera movements at reasonably fast shutter speeds.

Combining a heavy tripod with a remote shutter release (or releasing the shutter by using the camera self timer) is still the best way to obtain sharp, enlargable landscape prints.  This is especially true when shooting moving water, or in low light situations.  We should probably all do this, all the time.

In fact, good technique and less megapixels, will sometimes trump bad technique with more megapixels in terms of fine detail reproduction.

I have walked, snowshoed, and skied many miles with a tripods strapped to my pack. In a target-rich photographic environment, I sometimes leave the body and lens attached to the tripod, and travel with the combination over my shoulder, much like the way Huck Finn would carry a fishin’ pole.

 Lately though, I have changed tactics.  I found that sometimes setting up all the gear to work as a purist means that there are shots you won’t take because, it’s too much trouble. I still do use a tripod on formal shooting days. But for more casual opportunities, or for situations where I think that the neighbors will react badly to my presence, I use other techniques.

Cross-country skiing is one example. I have two ski poles in hand, and often, no where convenient to carry a monopod. I will then have to improvise.

Holding crossed ski (or hiking) poles with my thumb and third to fifth finger, I can improvise a bipod with the pair. My index finger can then encircle the barrel of the lens which rests in the cross. This works pretty well.

Trees when well located can be used to stabilize things, either by leaning against them, or bracing the camera hard against the bark. A small sandbag in your bag is helpful to facilitate the latter.

Any firm stable object can be useful. Fence post and bridge rails make fine camera supports. With SLRs, it is useful to press the camera into the support, to damp the movement of the mirror. Again a sandbag is useful to position the camera on a hard surface.

Logs, the hood of your car, your mountain bike seat, even rocks in the middle of a stream, can offer a shooting platform, as well as a non-intuitive, but unique shooting viewpoint. The Panasonic G 1-G1h- G2h-series cameras are great for this as they have an articulating view screen for framing at weird angles, are physically small, and have no mirror, and thus no “mirror slap” to dampen.

Finally, most often lately, I use a monopod.  Mine is a steel Bogen-Manfrotto unit with a sturdy ballhead mounted, a ballhead similar to, if less robust than the one on my good Gitzo tripod. Both ballheads use the same camera shoe so that I can switch back quickly between support options.

The monopod is a solid, heavy steel unit. The weight is an advantage when mechanically coupled to the camera, and then to the ground. There is a rubber foot, which can be slipped off to reveal a metal spike.

It makes a robust hiking pole. I keep it in my car wedged between the passenger seat and the console where it is readily available for “grab shots”. I have also suspected it would make a formidable self-defense weapon.

For landscape photography, I extend the monopod to the length I need. I make sure all of the joints are tightly locked. I position the camera with the ball head and then lock it down tight. I find that placing some weight on the camera-monopod assembly and making sure it if firmly engaged with the ground before tripping the shutter, allows me to take very sharp images even at marginal shutter speeds. I can grab good shots very quickly with a monopod in situations where a tripod would be slow and cumbersome.

If you aspire to create photographic images beyond the average, you need to spend time learning the basics. 

These methods may seem tedious and even stifling. Always remember that good camera technique and save you from opening your compositional masterwork, the one you hiked hours to capture, only to find is a blurred, unprintable mess.

Take the time and trouble.

It’s worth it.

 

 I don’t really write camera equipment reviews.

There are a number of wonderful sites, bookmarked here, and here, who do that extremely well (I’m particularly impressed with Thom Hogan’s fine analysis, particularly  on today’s topic).  That having been said, I have been, for the past several days, shooting with my new Nikon D7000. I am beginning to form some distinct impressions.

First, the camera certainly has very good resolution. In head to head testing against my D2x, I think I can see a bit more detail from the D7000 files, but only a bit. (12 to 16 MPs of resolution is not really a huge jump).

What is evident is the cleanness of the files, which are more noise-free, even at ISO 100, than even those of the vaunted D2x which was somewhat famous for its clean low ISO images. The  five years between the two  models is a long time in digital imaging technology.

Once the ISO range starts to increase, the gap from old to the new widens very quickly. I shot nice images in my dim neighborhood pub with the D 7000 and a 50mm f1.8 at ISO 3200. In the past, I would only have attempted this with my much more expensive FX format D 700 (which seems to be still perhaps a stop better than the D7000).

The effective dynamic range seems excellent. There is considerable latitude in highlight recovery, not as much as the Fuji, but to me, far more than the D2x, or the Panasonic G- series cameras I often utilize.

The shadows however, offer another opportunity to find dynamic range, and the D7000 does not disappoint. Features of for instance, dark hemlock or pine boughs that I deliberately under exposed to preserve sky detail, reemerge with mid-tone lightening, full of detail, and without significant noise.

I love the form factor. The D2x, with a tripod shoe in place could be a nuisance to wedge into my “walking” camera bag. The Fuji S-5 was smaller (like a Nikon D200-300), and I loved the files, but sometimes you just need more resolution. The D7000 by comparison slips into the bag with ease ( I can even fit an SB 800 flash alongside it in the main pouch), and shoots images with tons of detail.

Some of my favorite lenses are useful again. I specifically think of the nice Nikkors such as the 16-85mm f3.5-5 VR, the 17-35mm f2.8, the 70-200 f2.8 VR (version I),  as well as the Tamron 17-50mm f2.8, and the Tokina 12-24mm f4. As Thom Hogan has pointed out in his review; with this sensor you need good glass to get maximum benefit.

Color response is typical Nikon: a little cool when converted in Adobe Camera RAW, particularly when using flash. Skin tones are not optimal ( I’m still spoiled by the Fuji S5’s color). I haven’t tried the provided Nikon software to see whether it mitigates this a bit. Maybe JPGs are better (I rarely shoot them).

No one’s commented on the shutter. One of the real tactile sensations one experiences when using a camera body is the visceral, and audible characteristics of the mirror- shutter release.

The D-7000 has a pro level shutter (good for 150k operations per Nikon) but it sounds and feels different than my other F-mount bodies

First, to me it’s notably quieter. Given this and the camera’s small size, it suggests the d7000’s suitability for street shooting, particularly mounted perhaps with one of the fast 35mm primes available. There’s a quiet mode available, but to me it seems redundant.

The shutter release and associated mechanical events actions have a particularly smooth feel through you finger. It’s a small thing, but definitely contributory to the feeling of refinement one senses in its use. Also, for me, 6 frames a second is more than quick enough.

 I do have a few gripes. First, why didn’t Nikon spend a few extra dollars and replace the amateur type mode dial on the top of the camera, with three-button version of the upper level bodies. They already given us the pro-level drive selector below it.  This might have placated some of the camera body snobs who find this model unworthy of their talents.

Also, I guess we had to have a new battery; but now I have added another charger to the army of them sitting on my file cabinet.

So I’ll definitely keep this camera. I need to work on profiling it to improve the color output, otherwise I am very pleased.

 I think you’ll see a lot of images from this Nikon on these pages in the next several years.

I hope that they will be enjoyable.

If they’re not, It won’t be the camera’s fault.

Yesterday, the UPS truck stopped off at my office and dropped off an early Christmas present: the Nikon D 7000 I had ordered from B+H.

It arrived a week earlier than Henry Posner suggested it would.   I do suspect that Henry was conservative with his delivery date estimate, and I’m grateful for the pleasant surprise.

Next task is to do some informal testing of the body to find out:

#1 Is the   D7000 all it’s cracked up to be and a replacement for another camera “in the fleet”

#2 Is my particular sample a good one to keep.

If the answer is “yes” to both, I’ll open the printer and send on the rebate.

So far, some early observations.

The body is very robustly built, far more like a junior version of for instance, my D-700.

Six frames per second is very fast, more than I’ll ever need.

So far the best white balance of any F-mount camera I’ve ever used.

I will, as I always do, shoot and evaluate.

More to come.

Merry Christmas!