Once again as the holidays approach, it’s my pleasure to announce the new for 2013 Allied Rehab/John Heinz calendar,  published each year to benefit the pediatric programs at those institutions. 

Once again and is my privilege to provide the landscape photography, which depicts places and seasons from throughout the Allied Rehab service area in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

The system’s pediatric programs provide services to children, starting in the very early age, and often extending until they reach their teens.  They provide assistance to children with a variety of conditions.  Though medical insurance is accepted by the program, those with an inability to pay are provided care for little to no cost.

The  printed calendar depicts not only local scenery, but something more precious, the images of those children served by the employees and staff of Allied Rehabilitation.

It can be purchased at the Allied Services Website, or at any Allied Services facility throughout Northeastern Pennsylvania.

FRONT COVER: One Last Maple Leaf

In the highlands of eastern Pennsylvania, the first fall of snow often occurs in late October or early November before the trees have completely shed their leaves.  I shot this particular image in my neighborhood,  in the beginning of what became a fairly substantial snowfall just prior to Halloween.  I was struck by the contrast of the brightly colored maple leaves, in comparison to the somewhat drab appearing hemlock branches in the background.  It mimics a style of photography where one starts with a color image,   then selects a particularly colorful object in the image, and then converts the rest of the image to black and white.

In this case nature did the work for me.

JANUARY: The Sleigh Ride

Once again the Lands at Hillside serves as a setting for a calendar image.  The Lands at Hillside is a non-for-profit organization whose mission it is to preserve several old historic farms in our region.  They maintain the properties as a dairy operation, preserving traditional methods of farming and avoiding processed feeds, and hormone augmentation of the dairy herd.

I remember that morning several winters ago, when I was invited to the farm to witness the first use of an old sledge acquired by the farm.  My friend Will, who handled driving duties, at one point got the rig moving at a pretty good clip, an event which I was happy to photograph.  It was a marvelous day, and a joy to experience this wonderful traditional form of winter transportation.

FEBRUARY: Winter Fun at Lake Silkworth

I remember driving home, as I recall, from Ricketts Glen State Park down route 29 through the village of Lake Silkworth on a cold winters evening when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed this scene .  Several people had taken to riding their ATV’s in a circular track on the snow-covered lake, as if racing for some imaginary trophy.  I watched for a time, and then realized that there might be a photograph in it after all.  I grabbed my Panasonic G1 which was sitting next to me on the seat, found a good vantage point, and shot several images one of which you see here.  I’m not sure it’s most aesthetic image in the calendar this year, but I enjoy this depiction of  people finding  joy in the winter, when the cold and snow cuts off the summer pleasures of lake living.

MARCH: The Statue of Liberty

The Sunday prior to Saint Patrick’s Day has become a joyful celebration in downtown Wilkes-Barre, and a wonderful landmark to denote the coming of spring.

I know, I know… Scranton has the third biggest Saint Patrick’s Day parade in the nation, dwarfing the celebration held in Wilkes-Barre.  But I like underdogs.

I’ve been going to the Wilkes-Barre event for probably 20 years now.  In the beginning it consisted of about 200 of my fellow Irishman watching a 15 minute parade of fire and garbage trucks, and a few modest floats, before repairing to the pub for a pint of Guinness.  It is now grown to a wildly successful event with crowds all throughout the parade route;  enjoying the many new bars restaurants and shops in the revitalized downtown.  In fact there’s a part of me that somewhat wistful for the old event, which was held on Saturday in direct competition with the parade in Scranton.  Changing it to the Sunday afterward increased the availability of parade participants and spectators alike.  And because most people work the following day, the crowd tends to remain “family friendly”.  With its success, there are new issues.  It’s now hard to park in Wilkes-Barre on parade day. Even worse, it can be a struggle to find open bar space to enjoy that Guinness, once the parade has ended (and it goes on a long time now).  Still I’m delighted with the success of the event and look forward to photographing it every year.

APRIL: The Daffodil

Sometimes simple subjects are the best.  I was walking in a neighborhood the Clarks Summit region when I noticed what I suspected was one of the first daffodils to emerge from the warming soils of spring.  I chose to shoot it from the rear of the bloom, a somewhat unconventional depiction of the blossom.  I shot it with a long lens and a wide aperture, in the hope of blurring the pine tree in the background in a pleasant way.  It seems to work, as our committee were fairly unanimous in their selection of the image to represent the month of April.

MAY: The Bridge at West Nanticoke

As I’ve discussed before, when one wishes to find early or late scenery with our four season climate, and mountainous terrain, it is often useful to go down to the river where spring starts  early, and fall finishes late. 

On this cool rainy day, I was exploring in the area of an old railroad trestle on the Susquehanna River at Nanticoke.  This scene, with the newly emerged, rain dampened maple leaves in the foreground, and the bridge in the background seemed interesting, and I shot several angles on it.  It is typical of early to mid May and our region, with the foliage emerging, but the climate seemingly reluctant to let go of the chill of early spring , and to embrace the warmth of summer.

JUNE: Dragon Boats

One of the underappreciated assets of the region is the Susquehanna River which meanders through the Wyoming Valley.  I often think the region has a modest psychological aversion to the Susquehanna, based on a variety of factors, including the local sense that it is somewhat polluted, its propensity to flood and cause great damage,  and the need for physical barrier (dikes) between the city and the river because of this propensity.  I think that the refurbished dike system, with its portals that improve access to the river, are beginning to allow us to exploit this wonderful resource.  There is much it has to offer.  One only has to spend time in other cities such as Boston or Philadelphia to realize the river is a potentially great recreational resource.

I think it’s wonderful that in June of every year (unless the river is over its banks); the region celebrates the Susquehanna with a Riverfest which is headquartered at Nesbitt Park.  There are a variety of activities including a kayak and canoe trip between Pittston in Wilkes-Barre.  There are food vendors, and educational exhibits largely involving the environment.

One interesting event is the dragon boat race, where local businesses assemble teams and compete with each other in a paddling race.  I shot this image during a practice session.  I know at least one of the teams pictured is composed of members of the Times Leader staff.

In many ways, the Susquehanna River is the very reason for the existence of Wilkes-Barre and the other towns up and down the Wyoming Valley.  I am glad that we have begun to celebrate its existence.

JULY: A House in Moscow

This is a simple image, but I think it conveys a pleasant sense about small town living in northeastern Pennsylvania.  I shot it on a Sunday morning in July, sometime late in the month.  To me there is something quite charming about this home. I love the beautiful stone chimney, the patriotic bunting, and the open porch, which in particular, is so much a part of the tradition of small town life.   .  The morning light is important to this image, trans illuminating the flowers, the shrubbery, and the decorations.

AUGUST: Scranton Skyline

I spent a good portion of my life in and around Scranton.  I went to college there, met and wooed my lovely wife there, and visited my in-laws over many holidays and summer breaks.  I really like the town.

It is much different from Wilkes-Barre, where I now spend most of my time.  It feels like a bigger city with a larger grid of downtown streets, and a lively tavern and restaurant community. 

I was walking on the square one late August day this year, when I encountered a reception for the freshman class of the University of Scranton, my alma mater.  It was being held on one of the grassy areas adjacent to the courthouse, with upperclassmen, dressed in “U of S” tee shirts mingling among the crowd.  Tables and tents were festooned with purple and white balloons, and I took several images of the event.  Afterwards I continued my walk, and this view of the skyline caught my eye.  When I returned home and began to edit the photos, I was unhappy with the images I had taken up the reception, but was happy with this photo and its depiction of some of the iconic features of the Scranton skyline.

SEPTEMBER: Garden at Moosic Lake

Labor Day always seems slightly sad.  Even if it is a glorious summer day as it often is,  it tends to denote the end of the cultural(if not the meteorological) season  of summer.  The children  will soon be back in school (if they are not already) and I believe that we adults lose a sense of empathic joy that we feel as we watch our children and grandchildren enjoy the summer vacation much as we once did.

There’s a temptation on Labor Day, to pull in the dock, and stow away the canoes, and to pack away the outdoor furniture.  We begin to retract our lives back into our homes in anticipation of the fall and winter.  Yet I am convinced that September to mid October are the loveliest months to be enjoying the outdoors, with cool, but comfortable temperatures, increasingly colorful foliage, and a dwindling insect population.  A patio fire pit, which can be out-of-place on warm summer nights, can be a great comfort and joy on cool fall evening.

If we let Labor Day stand for the end of summer, then we risk missing the best part of the outdoor season.

OCTOBER: Pumpkin Patch at Grassy Ridge

Obviously, the foliage season in the fall, offers a wealth of opportunity for landscape photographers.  This image of a pumpkin patch was captured in Noxen, on a beautiful October day this year.  I came upon the Grassy Ridge farm stand on the corner of routes 309 and 29, and asked permission to photograph the premises.  The owners were very gracious, and I spent about 45 minutes at the location acquiring a variety of photographs, including the one you see above, and the image and apple baskets gracing the back cover.  I shot the image with my Fuji film X100, a compact camera that allowed me to be inconspicuous, among the families enjoying a fall outing on that beautiful day.

NOVEMBER: November Corn

This image was acquired on a late fall evening in NewtonTownship.  The sun had just set, and the crisp fall later was rapidly growing colder.  I remember shivering slightly as I set up a tripod to make sure the image would be sharp despite the fading light.

In this image (which was featured in another article on this site)  I took advantage of the vivid sunsets one sees in the late fall and winter which I understand are due to the decreasing moisture content in the air as the atmosphere cools.

DECEMBER: The Kirby House at Christmas

The Kirby Episcopal house is a local landmark that I am proud to say, is part of the community of Glen Summit where I reside.  It is a gorgeous estate, originally built in the early 20^th century, by the Kirby family (the founders of Woolworth’s chain).  The main house is constructed of stone said to have been acquired from the Susquehanna River in the valley.  The gorgeous interior has been lovingly maintained and looks much the same as it would have when the Kirbys were in residence over the summer months.

There are multiple buildings on the property, with tennis courts,  a swimming pool and beautiful, ornate oriental gardens that often draw wedding parties looking for a place to capture post nuptial images.

It was a summer home for the Kirby family, until they donated it in the 1950s to the Episcopal diocese of Bethlehem.  It is now run it as a conference center, and is offered for use at a modest fee to nonprofit organizations.  It is busy throughout the summer months.

JANUARY 2014: Winter Scene, Butler Valley

I was driving in southern Luzerne County on a sunny January morning in 2011.  As usual I had several cameras on the front passenger seat of my car. There had been snow over the last 24 hours, putting an end to the drab brown winter landscape that had existed prior.

I spotted these two beautiful animals before they spotted me. I grabbed my D700, on which was mounted a 70-200 mm lens.  I got out of the car, and used a nearby fence post as a sort of makeshift monopod, to steady the long lens.  The longer focal length  allowed me to take several “candid” images before they sensed my presence and moved toward me out of curiosity.

This year in the Appalachian highlands of Pennsylvania, spring
has been a long time coming.

In typical years, we get a taste of better weather starting in late
March. This year, the best the month offered was an occasional clear day, with temperatures  perhaps in the 50’s (Fahrenheit), before the snow would fall once again.

I have written earlier that I have visited a spring pond in Nescopeck State Park, on one of these tepid afternoons where the peepers had tentatively begun to sing. This seemed hopeful.

It snowed the next day.

Common wisdom was “Well, March is always lousy…wait until April. April is when things get nice”.

Well April came, and so did the rain. It seemed to rain
constantly, and without the usual consolation of warmer temperatures. Streams
and then rivers flooded; the more volatile creeks flooded in multiple cycles, as storm
after storm drifted east from the much more turbulent weather in the south and Midwest.

I know…May flowers and all of that.

Finally we at least, in mid to late April the grass started
to “green-up”. Wisps of foliage  began to appear in the forest.  The forsythia finally began to bloom very late in the month.

The season however will not be denied. Nature can be delayed, but ultimately there is a cycle which will win out over the reluctant climate. By late April maple leaves began
to erupt from their winter buds.

The first male hummingbirds returned to my wife’s feeders, eating voraciously to
cope with the lingering cool conditions.

Finally now, in these middle days of May, there are consistent
high temps in the 60’s and low 70’s.

The pent-up vernal energy seems to have exploded. Over several
days the transition to spring has been accelerated. Dogwoods, fruit trees and Azaleas are in bloom.

Even the reluctant Oaks, the dominant species in the mountain forests, have begun to leaf out. Today we will finally cut our lawn for the first time.

The birthing of spring is always more difficult in the northeast Appalachians.

This year, it was breech.

 

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.

November Evening Corn ( Panasonic G1, Lumix 14-45mm f3.5)

 

The leaves have mostly fallen. The forests, viewed from afar now reflect the grey of  tree bark, the light tan of beech leaves, which will stay on the trees till spring, and dull brown of spent foliage on the forest floor. 

At first glance, late fall in the Northeastern U.S. offer slim pickings for landscape photography.

After the blazing colors of mid fall, which occur in mid-October in the mountains of eastern Pennsylvania, Late October, and November can be an imaging challenge.  I’m the photographer for a calendar we publish every year. Shooting November’s image is a definitely feels more difficult than for other months (except perhaps March, and August).

The transition from autumn splendor to the dull scenery of late fall can occur fairly quickly. One good windy storm after “peak leaves” occur, and suddenly the colorful forest canopy is gone.  What had been a “target rich” photographic environment can vanish overnight.

 Still and all in some ways, I like the late season.  You need to be observant to be successful. You can’t always rely on the cheap thrill of iridescent sugar maples and crimson oaks.  No more cheerful outdoor scenes with people happily playing touch football, because in November, it’s getting cold, and the people are all inside watching football. To be effective and compelling, late fall photography needs to focus on subtle things.

Contrast is a wonderful theme for this season. If you look hard enough (and know where to look) there will always be residual color, even into the early winter.

First, in cool dry air of fall, sunsets become more spectacular even as the foliage fades.

 In our area, some maples and oaks delay their fall color, and hold their leaves until later in the year. Tamaracks can have brilliant yellows late in the year.  Shrubs such as Blueberry and Hawthorne retain their brilliant reds long after the main foliage has disappeared. One strategy is to find these stragglers, and feature their beauty in a way that juxtaposes it against the dull post-foliage background. Longer focal lengths and wider apertures can be useful to help isolate these small remaining patches of interest, and blur the background.

It’s helpful if your images depict a seasonal tradition, and hopefully for the audience, a pleasant memory. Scenes involving holidays are an obvious possibility.

  In our part of Pennsylvania, hunting, particularly deer hunting, is a deep-seated passion, and for many evokes strong memories of fellowship and traditions enjoyed in late autumn. I often rove the on the day before “buck season” to scout for interesting scenes among the hunting towns in the “Endless Mountains” region to the north of my home.

 Another opportunity involves the transition between seasons, and the scenes at the cusp can be worth recording. The first frost, a late fall dusting of snow,  the first freeze up of a forest pond, or an unexpected ice storm, offer opportunities to the alert photographer.

As always, good landscape images should tell a story, in this case of a natural world that is “battening down” to endure the cold months to come.

I believe, that the care and imagination one needs to find beauty in relatively bleak periods during the year, can make us cleverer photographers when seasons cooperate.

 

Red and Orange (Panasonic GH1, Lumix 20mm f 1.7)

 

On a day off, especially if I am awakening in the morning during a photogenic season, or in a scenic place, I have to make a decision.

Do I get up, grab my photo gear and go out early, or do I “sleep in”. This is a decision that I usually make based on the weather.

If it’s cloudy, I stay in bed, knowing that the same shooting conditions that I would encounter at 6 AM will exist at 11. I can sleep a bit, have breakfast and coffee, and still get good light.

If it’s clear, I think about it. You have to get up very early, arguably before sunrise, to catch the very best light. If I can look out the window and can already see that it’s clear, I probably already missed the best shooting. Have to wait until sunset.

If it’s foggy however, particularly if there’s no rain, I’m up instantly. For fogs, or mists, in many ways and in their many forms provide a wonderful backdrop for landscape photography.

Landscape photographers need to try to understand the weather. It’s helpful to anticipate the atmosphere’s behavior in order to be present for the best shooting conditions. I’m not a meteorologist, but I know a few things:

I know that in the fall of the year, when a cold front passes after a period of warmth, fog will form in valleys, particularly in river valleys, while the surrounding ridges will be clear. The amount of fog will depend on the “dew point” of the atmosphere.

I know that a similar phenomenon occurs anytime cool moist air passes over warmer surfaces.

I know that it is not unlikely to have fog, when there is an ice storm in the winter.

I know that fog will occur at times I cannot predict.

Fog is like free bokeh (see definition here) provided by the atmosphere. When it is thin, it blurs and deemphasizes the background detail, focusing one’s attention on the subject.

When it is thick, it can transform the commonplace into the abstract. It can change a pedestrian scene, into a more magical vision.

It helps to have equipment that is relatively moisture resistant. Don’t underestimate the pernicious effect  of water vapor on electronics. Don’t bring warm cameras out into cool moist environments. If you do, water will condense onto the electronics, and lenses will fog. At the least, it helps to have a lens cloth available.  

Better yet, let the equipment equalize to the ambient temperature (I usually leave my gear overnight in a place where that can happen). Typically then, there will be few issues.

Every once in a while, Mother Nature helps us with our craft.

Take advantage of it.

October 18, 2010

Alright , I admit it. I screwed up A number of our readers pointed out that the real danger of condensation on camera lenses, and in camera bodies occurs when cold equipment is brought into warm environments. Bang, you got me. In my own defense however, I would say that I was trying to warn my gentle readers about the perils of using electronic equipment, in ultra-humid environments.

I am greatful that people are paying attention.

 I hope you’ll continue.

 

At the end of August, in the Appalachian highlands, there is often early evidence of the cool weather that is waiting its turn in the unfolding year.

Autumn touches the ridge tops far earlier than in the river valleys.

    Fall’s opening gambit generally occurs after a late summer hot spell. A strong line of storms usually heralds the season’s first outbreak of true Canadian air. One morning you awaken to a strikingly beautiful sunrise and a crispness that is shocking to one who is well acclimated to the warmth of summer. As the day progresses, the sharp reds of sunrise evolve into a deep blue, more like the skies of midwinter. There is a strong breeze. Small white clouds pass quickly overhead as if embarrassed to deprive us of the brilliant sunshine.

   The next several nights will be unnaturally cool. The day’s winds are becalmed; heat radiates quickly from the earth below. The fans and air conditioners so useful on warm summer nights will be stilled. Sleeping will be more comfortable, albeit with an extra blanket.

   There are potent changes occurring in the natural world. After the first few brisk mornings, other colors will accent the uniform green of the forest. First are the bracken ferns whose early autumn yellow contrasts with the larger cinnamon ferns that now assume a deep rust hue. Low in the canopy, small maples and dogwoods add splashes of red and yellow to the scene, sometimes one branch at a time. Wetlands offer a hiker the first preview of fall colors as the trees and shrubs in those places often change before their counterparts in better-drained areas.

   By mid-September, the hummingbird feeders in our yard hang abandoned, their usual dependents driven south by the early chill. Deer, which were scarce all summer, are beginning to reappear in the yards and gardens. Velvet-covered antlers distinguish the bucks, as they feed on acorns that now litter the lawn.

    On the ridge top scrub barrens, unprotected by the forest canopy, nighttime temperatures will tend to fall significantly compared to the surrounding woodlands. Hiking these areas on a fall evening, one can encounter rivers of cold air as they course though the landscape’s shallow draws, eventually to pool in the so-called “frost pockets.” Here, even in early fall; there may be freezes, which quickly melt in the bright morning sunshine.

    A walk along a lakeside trail in late September reveals further evidence of a transition occurring. One immediately notices the absence of frogs and tadpoles at the shoreline.  The latter have by now, matured into the former and have burrowed into the mud below the cooling waters. Migrating geese visit to feed and briefly rest. Along the shore, fruit still clings to blueberry bushes, though their leaves are already changing to crimson.

    Summer may yet fleetingly return for one more encore; bowing before it leaves the stage. Eventually the climate will change more definitively, and the forest canopy will explode with color. Fall has returned. Winter will not be far behind.

  

 Sometimes an image will surprise you in small but delightful ways.

   Sometimes it will be the inclusion of an unnoticed detail in a corner of the image that adds interest to the eye.

  When shooting on the water, it can be a feature under the surface, unseen through the viewfinder, but revealed courtesy of the polarizing filter you thoughtfully placed on the lens.

   In my case recently, it was blue light.

  I was camping with my daughter Brigid, a sort of last attempt to bond before she escapes to college life. We paddled our kayaks to an island in the Saranac Lake chain of upstate New York.

  Truth be told, she wasn’t real happy about this. Her brother escaped “dad duty” as he had brought two friends with him on our trip up north, and there weren’t enough kayaks. His time will come.

  I was going one way or another, and I’d like to think if anything, Brigid went to make sure that I didn’t capsize and drown.

 This particular trip is lovely.  You “put in” at a state sponsored site on the Saranac River and paddle through a series of ”ponds” prior to emerging into the vast waters of Lower Saranac lake. This is a large convoluted body of water, connected to the Middle Saranac Lake again by the Saranac River which reappears at the southwestern end of the lake. Multiple islands erupt from the lake floor. They vary in size from single rocks harboring a small pad of soil and a few conifers, to multiple acre-sized landforms covered in White Pine and northern hardwoods. This makes Lower Saranac a pleasant, visually interesting, largely sheltered place to paddle, though we did encounter fairly fresh winds and chop over the open sections we had to traverse.

   As they were loaded with gear, the ‘yaks rode lower in the water than usual, and it was somewhat difficult to “beach” them on the steep and slippery gneiss shoreline on the island we had chosen. Once secured, we unloaded and set up camp.

The NYS DEC maintain this area nicely. There are nice wide open tenting areas. There is even a privy available (definitely necessary, as these are busy sites)

Each site has a concrete fireplace, correctly designed to provide reflected heat for the cool Adirondack nights (thirty to forty degree nights would not be uncommon).

  I removed my Panasonic GH1 and two lenses from the dry bag where they resided for the trip over and waited for the light to get interesting.

  I had thought about taking some video, especially if the lake’s loons cooperated by calling prominently, but they were quiet that night. A few of their mournful cries were audible, but only in the distance. We contented ourselves with the warbling of wood thrushes, the chittering of the islands sole red squirel, and the occasional sound of passing powerboat.

   Periodically, dark clouds appeared, threatening rain. Happily it held off until much later, when we were finally zipped into the tent for the night.

  At dusk, the temperature dropped and fire seemed like a nice idea. I gathered wood and using the bark from a birch log we found already at the site, started one fairly easily.

  I spent a lot of time in the hour around sunset, shooting from various vantage points before returning to the campsite for good.

   There, Brigid and I sat around the fire as the light faded. The glow of the fireplace was evocative. I had no tripod on the trip ( yes, I know, big faux pas) so I was forced to set the camera at ISO 1600 (not the GH1’s best strength) to get reasonable shutter speeds.

   I asked Brigid to stay very still, and shot several frames with her in the foreground, counting on the image stabilization to keep things sharp. It was important to if anything, over-expose a bit (with a fire as the bright point it doesn’t matter so much), to avoid shadow noise. I looked at the image on the LCD in camp, it looked OK, and I put the equipment away for the night.

   I shot a few more images in the morning before we left the next morning but the sky was cloudy and the light mostly unremarkable. Still… there were moments.

   When I got back to my computer and was able to view the images in Photoshop, I noticed something I hadn’t seen in camp. In sharp contrast to reds and oranges of the firelight, was a soft blue glow evident through the trees at the shoreline, the fading blue of the night sky reflected in the water of the lake. I played with raw image a bit, pushing the exposure to a point that enhanced this effect (but only a bit). I was surprised and impressed with the camera’s dynamic range and metering which had allowed all of this to be recorded.

I like this picture. It reminds me of the numerous, and largely anonymous campfire scenes one sees for sale at souvenir shops throughout the Adirondacks.

  More importantly, it will always remind me of a very pleasant memory of time spent with my daughter before she embarks on a new phase of her young life.

BTW Brigid, Happy 18th.

   

    I think of myself as a Nikon/Fuji “shooter” yet I have always kept other equipment in my camera closet for use in situations where an expensive DSLR-lens combination would be at risk of loss due to dunking or dropping, or would be too heavy and or bulky to be practical.  

     For years I shot Olympus bodies in this role. These bodies were part of what was then a new system based on the Olympus/Panasonic “four thirds” standard: a sensor and lens mount designed to allow digital bodies to be smaller, yet to make better images. My Olympus bodies had nice image quality, were image stabilized, and there was stunning high quality optics available for the system. Even their “kit” lenses were sharp and very usable, but cheaply replaceable if damaged. The the body and lens were still fairly bulky, more so than was often convenient.  

     In January ’08 I acquired my first Panasonic G-1 a digital body of the new “micro four thirds” standard, an offshoot of the earlier specification. The same lens mount as was on the full “four thirds” cameras was utilized, but the lenses were much smaller and designed to focus on a sensor that was much closer to their posterior element. The sensor had a robust “live view” capability and the mirror and optical viewfinder was replaced with a very high quality LCD “finder” detailed enough to allow even manual focusing.  

  

     Because of this the overall package, with the kit lens was 20-30% less bulky than even the Olympus SLRs. The sensor at 12 million pixels produced highly detailed images. Though the sensor’s dynamic range was limited (see my Fuji article below) the electronic viewfinder allows exposure data to display as you compose the image (as opposed to after) that helps to optimize the exposure, and mitigate somewhat this limitation. The other attraction of this system is that it is very adaptable to lenses from other manufacturer. My Olympus lenses work beautifully with an adapter; so does some wonderful old Leica glass.  

    These cameras are seductive. I can carry the body with two stabilized lenses covering 35mm equivalent focal lengths of 28-400mm in a modest sized fanny pack. Without the camera motion that is induced by SLR “mirror slap”, tripods can be lighter. The system has limitations, but it can be a hiker’s dream.  

    Now I have acquired an upgraded version of the G1. The GH1 has a better sensor with more dynamic range and better high ISO capability. It sensor allows you to shoot in multiple formats without having to crop out pixels.  

It has one other new feature.  

The GH1 like several other new SLRs or SLR-like bodies comes with video, in this case, fairly seriously high-definition, 1080p video. There is an on camera microphone, capable of recording rather accurate digital stereo sound (sorry about the heavy breathing).  

     This extends the imaging capabilities of this device into dimensions I hadn’t previously explored. Sound and motion add a dimension to imaging that  as a still photographer I am just starting to grapple with.  

I think it’s going to be fun.

As always, the images can be better viewed on Glensummitimage.com