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.

 

When I posted “A Rebate Tale”,  I was concerned that the topic would be:

#1 Too dull.

#2 To seemingly selfish.

I did actually post the story to be a warning so that could avoid the modestly annoying situation I find my self in.

I was unprepared for the response that this post has received.

I did post a link to several photography forums that I am known to frequent.

I  subsequently had the single day record for the largest number of visitors to the blog .

And the robust readership continues several days later.

The responses which occurred in the forums were varied. Some people ridiculed me for not being careful enough and failing to fully understand the terms of the rebate.

Others told me of their similar predicament regarding the Nikon D-7000, and the Epson rebate.

Still others mocked me, for moving from pro-level Nikon bodies to what some see is an “advanced amateur” body (I continue to believe that a “pro” camera is any camera you can make money with).

Most interestingly, there was a theme among some posters that the whole issue of product rebates should be viewed with suspicion, if not outright distrust as many rebates legitimaty applied for, are never realized by the consumer.

I had a fascinating post on the site from Helen Oster who is the “Adorama Camera Customer Service Ambassador”. She works for a (the biggest?) competitor to B+H Photo, where I purchased the merchandise in question. She suggested that I contact Henry Posner, who is her opposite number at B+H. What a classy thing to do.

Henry was waiting for me. He already knew who I was and understood my predicament. Apparently he has the ability to scan the web for mentions of his employer and to intervene when necessary to protect the fine reputation B+H enjoys. And he found my little blog from two mentions in text, of his store. It’s a little scary.

We had an extremely pleasant conversation. He offered to check with his camera buyer to get read on when I might see the Nikon delivered (two weeks, as it turned out). He also extended he window when I may return the printer. He explained that the rebate business has been at times a problem, as companies like Epson often use outside contractors to process their rebate applications. The quality (and motivation) of those contractors affects how many rebates are issued (my summation, not Henry’s exact words).

I also talked the person in charge of rebate issues at Epson. She told me that all that needed was the invoice from B+H with the Camera and the printer shown as purchased. She reminded me that Epson has no way to track other manufacturers serial numbers, or UPC codes anyway.

I don’t trust this. Apparently the “contractors” processing claims tend to be stringent about applications or they kick them out. I also know that having the physical UPC code cut from the box prevents multiple rebates on the same purchase. I’m not going to bite on this one.

If I do get to apply for that refund, the application will be letter-perfect, with all the requirements met. It will be sent certified mail, return receipt requested.

Meanwhile, but the box is still sitting here. It’s getting a bit dusty now, but remains otherwise untouched.

Unlike me this year, it may be taking a trip back to NYC for the holidays.

 

The Box (Nikon D700, Nikkor 50mm f1.8)

 

I’m sitting in my photography office.  I’m staring at a box which contains some brand spanking new photo gear. But I can’t open it. It sits on my floor almost taunting me.

 “Open me” it seems to taunt me, lounging provocatively in front of my couch. “You know you want me”, it seems to say, its sleek, seductive, cardboard flanks emblazoned with phrases such as: “A new standard in vivid uniform glossy prints”, or “dramatically improved facial tones”.

 But, I can’t open, it no matter how tempting it seems. I have to wait. Wait until the big brown truck stops once again at my door with another package.  

It will be my brand new Nikon D7000.

 I’m in an unusual and slightly frustrating situation. I’ve been following the reviews of this new Nikon, a new mid level DSLR with excellent specs that even rival more pro level offerings from Nikon. The D7000 is smaller than other most other Nikons yet of metal construction and yet fully weather-sealed. It has 16 Mp of resolution, and surprisingly good low light capability for a high resolution DX (smaller) sized sensor. In other words, it is an ideal photographic tool for use while hiking or skiing. It so far well reviewed.

And, because of all of this, it’s very hard to obtain one.

I was going to hold out while demand died down (my usual strategy in these situations), until I became aware of a deal offered by Epson, maker of my favored line of photo printers. Turns out that who with the purchase of certain new printers along with new DSLR, Epson will rebate to the buyer, $450 dollars.

Now I have two photo printers in my studio, an Epson Stylus Photo 3800, an A2 sized (17”inch carriage)  pro level printer, and smaller, 13” carriage, Epson R 1800. The latter, is very versatile, and particularly adept at printing on gloss paper. Both printers use pigmented archival inks and suitable for printing gallery prints.

  The Epson R 1900, the replacement model for my smaller printer is one of the printers feature in the rebate. It is said to be even better, particularly suited to printing skin tones.  It sells for around $500

So buy a camera, get a excellent photo printer for fifty bucks?  I wasn’t really in desperate for a new printer, as the R1800 works well, but for the money, it’s a no brainer. I put my order in through B+H Photo in NYC a week ago. I did call them to confirm that the rebate would not be affected by the availability of the camera. They confirmed it.

In usual B+H style, a large a box arrives in my office the next day. It’s the printer of course. The Nikon is backordered, delivery date unclear.

So I print up the rebate coupon from the Epson website. The purchase deadline for the rebate is December 31, which I’ve already met. There are two other wrinkles:

One, the other deadline is thirty days from the date of the order. Not a big deal.

The other though is a problem. I need a serial number, and UPC code from the camera. The one that’s really hard to get.

Uh oh, B+H was wrong. I should have called Epson.

So now I sit with a large box in my studio. I can’t open it as it wouldn’t be as returnable (no reason to jerk the retailer around). If it gets to 28 days or so without receiving the camera, I’ll have to wrap it up and send it back (or pay $500 for a printer I don’t need).

I tell this tale not to elicit your sympathy (though I’ll take it if offered). I tell it to remind the dear reader, and fellow buyer of electronic and photo gear, to make sure you know the actual terms of rebates offered, especially when the money back offer is the difference between buy, and no buy decision.

So, for now, I wait.

  Addendum:

 Today the UPS truck delivered the extra battery for the D 7000, but still no camera itself.

 They’re obviously teasing me.

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.

 

 

I’m not one for crowds.

I generally despise waiting in line, long walks from the parking lot, long waits to use the “facilities” and the other indignities of being “in the crowd” at large sporting events.

Usually, you can view the proceedings, just as well if not better, on television; all the while sitting in your comfy chair, just steps from a refrigerator and bathroom.

One event I do enjoy attending however, occurred last weekend in the Finger Lakes region of New York.

   I’m referring to the Vintage Car races at Watkins Glen International raceway, situated on the hills overlooking beautiful Lake Seneca.

   The drive, from my home in Pennsylvania is beautiful. There are early signs of fall in mid September that accentuate the gorgeous Finger Lakes scenery.

 

  This is a neat event. It’s run by the Sports Car Club of America, which means that the beer-swilling redneck NASCAR fans are replaced with beer, wine, and scotch-swilling masochistic amateur mechanics.

   These tend to be happy people, with perpetually sunny outlooks that delude them into thinking that it is actually possible to keep old British, Italian,  and even French cars, not only running, but running well enough to actually race. These are people who believe that the notoriously unreliable Lucas and Marelli electrical systems of their vehicles can actually be made to function properly. They tend to be hardy and upbeat and very hard to discourage. They dream of the day when the windshield wipers on their Austin Healey actually function at the same time the headlights are on…and actually in the rain.

   The weekend- long event feature a broad range of race cars, from ultra high performance Formula One and Can Am cars that scream around the track, to Bugeye Sprites and MGA’s that seem barely faster than a good garden tractor.

There can be some aggressive racing on this wonderful road course with good views from multiple locations.

Another attraction of the race is the accessibility of the pits to the fans. I suspect that a lot of the spectators are ex-participants; my group for instance included multiple former racers who seemed to know a lot of the current drivers. This leads to a clubby atmosphere. You can see a lot of interesting machinery in pit lane.

  People also bring their vintage cars for the car show that is held, and  afterwords, park them next to their camp sites.  Walking through the spectator areas, it is commonplace to stop and chat with a car owner about his 289 Cobra, or his lovingly restored, Daimlier Saloon.

   There are lots of interesting people, including Elliot, a fellow from Boston who with four other friends drove 5 very valuable cars: two hyper-expensive current exotics and three historic vehicles to the race.

They then parked them next to the track, and not only let people explore them…but encouraged it.

 Elliot, at one point in the evening, wanted me to appreciate the engine sound of his $250,000 Mercedes SLR. He insisted I start the car (which was not, I suspect “broken in” yet) and rev it furiously to the redline. What a neat guy. I have to suspect that Elliot understood the good-hearted and knowledgeable nature of this crowd, and knew no harm would come to his property.

  At night the racing stops and one by one campfires dot the camping areas trackside. People seem to move from site to site. Traditionally there is a bonfire near turn 7 with a lot of inebriated people and loud music. About 11:30 things turn quiet.

   If you love cars, and like me came of age in the sixties and seventies, this event is a wonderful way to connect with our automotive past, to see vehicles either restored or in racing trim that you haven’t thought of, let alone seen, in years.

It’s an opportunity to meet some very nice folks with a deep knowledge of, and love for autos and racing.

People with the optimism to believe, that if it rains on the way home… the wipers might work.

 

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.

   Like most people, I lust for the newest and best, whether we’re talking about cars, computers, smart phones or of course, photo gear.

I absolutely lust for a Leica S2, the new 37.5 MP, near medium format DSLR that, sadly, with a single “normal” 70mm lens runs roughly $28,000 dollars.

   Likewise for a Nikon D3x the 24mp DSLR which body only can be had for a more reasonable, but still rather princely sum of $7400. Given the state of the economy, and a kid going to college, it’s just not happening.

D3x Image by Nikon

   Having huge amounts of real resolution on a very high quality, big pixel imager has wonderful advantages in terms of maximum print size, and allows the photographer great latitude in terms of cropping. With so much data, you can crop away half the image and still make a respectable print.

Bodies such as the Leica and the  D3x are built for professionals and can tolerate a lot of abuse in the field. They handle wonderfully, and are designed to facilitate rapid changes in settings, mainly through external buttons and controls.

  With these wonderful attributes, there are also demands placed on the photographer who uses such wonderful gear. High resolution imagers require high quality glass.  You can’t just slap on the 18-55mm “kit lens” you got with your D40 on a D3x. In fact, that particular DX format lens will only illuminate a portion of the D3x’s FX format imager. To utilize the power of this fine instrument, you will need excellent quality full frame lenses.  Price-wise, think $1500+ for Nikkor zooms, though excellent primes can be had for much less. Leica glass is much more expensive.

  A second issue has to do with technique. High resolution means that fine detail is visible in the image, particularly the  details of how you screwed up. Failing to prevent minute camera movements caused by clumsily stabbing the shutter and/or by so-called “Mirror Slap” can reduce the preservation of details to the point where the capture resembles a much lower resolution image. Factor in to the price of the camera, the cost of a very high quality tripod and head, sturdy enough to handle this heavy camera body/lens combo and perhaps a remote shutter release, and you can easily add $800 to the price tag.

  Nonetheless, do I want these cameras? Yes, I do.

 Do I need them? Probably, I do not.

 First I can only print photos in my studio at 16”x22” or smaller. I have never been asked by a client for a print larger than 24”x 30”. High quality 12 MP imagers, well utilized, can provide very nice files for such prints.

 Enter another Nikon body… the D2x.

    I already own one of these, having purchased it roughly three years ago as a “Factory Refurb” for about 3K (it retailed for around $5000). Much to my chagrin, I now see them “lightly used”, on EBay for $800-$900.

The D2x was introduced in 2005. It was hailed at the time as a breakthrough product, and brought a lot of pro shooters back from Canon to Nikon.

 The body design formed the basis for the current D3 series cameras and thus is very similar in design, and equally stout.

It looks to be the last of the pro-level DX format cameras which means that it can utilize all of the lenses I own, whether FX or DX. Because of the 1.5x crop factor, it makes makes the long zooms shoot even longer. Dx imagers also have increased apparent depth of field compared to larger sensors which is great for landscapes, but can be a problem at times, for portrait work.

    Wide angle lenses on DX are another story, as they inconveniently get longer too.  There are however, some wonderfull 11-12mm wide zoom options available for DX format, getting us down to a 17-18mm field of view (full frame equivelent). 

    Another piece of good news for DX: their smaller sensors utilize only the center portion of a full frame lens. This tends to make good lenses shoot great.

IThe D2x has a cropped mode shooting 7MP files (more than enough for most photojournalism) at 8 frames per second, or it will shoot a full 12 MP image at 5ffp. This performance lags behind current pro Nikon offerings, but who cares…8 frames per second sounds like a machine gun.

It has extremely fast and accurate auto focus, and very reliable metering. It is compatible with Nikon’s newest flashguns using the i-TTL system.

  And, when used thoughtfully, it captures beautiful, detailed images. I tend to use it for landscape photography, but it is particularly useful for shooting sports in outdoor venues where the light is good.

It’s big disadvantage has to do with low light shooting. It produces nice work up to about ISO 800, when noise begins to set in. Later Nikon DX offerings like the D-300 do better with this, and the FX Nikons, such as my D-700, do much better. Happily, the noise seen in high ISO D2x images has a nice fine luminance noise (rather than blotchy color noise) that resembles the “grain” in old high sensitivity black and white film.

It’s really well built and sealed. I’ve stood on the sideline of a football game in heavy rain shooting the D2x paired with the equally rugged Nikkor 70-200mm VR with nary a worry about the equipment. When the rain stops, you just towel everything off, and keep shooting.

There are lots of other features that make “pro level” Nikons so wonderful to use.

So why talk about an old camera?

  If you’re a talented amateur, or person getting started on a pro career in photography, you may not have the $4500 to blow on a current Nikon pro body. $800 will barely by you a D-90 which is a very nice plastic bodied 12 megapixel DX camera, but no where near as capable, tunable, or rugged as a D2x. Nice as the consumer Nikons are, is there is an intangible joy to owning an instrument as nicely built and designed as a D2 series camera.

I will admittedly, continue to lurk on EBay, watching for D3x prices to fall into my range. It may be a long wait.

For now however, I’m very content with the Nikons I already own.

   

  Every summer for the last several years, when school lets out, I pack my children in a vehicle full of photography equipment and outdoor gear, and head out into the northeastern US.   

I do this for several reasons:  

 One reason is to attempt to bond with my children, who tend otherwise to be illuminated more by the LCDs of a video screen, than by any remaining wisdom their father may have left to impart.  

  I also do a little photography.  

It started in 2004 as a trip with my son Gus, driving around Pennsylvania to capture spring/summer images for what became Pennsylvania Seasons, a book of Commonwealth images with poetry contributed by native authors. My nine-year-old son put up with my prattling, carried my tripod, hung around as I planned out shots and fiddled with equipment, and endured the days we spent together. He was a wonderful companion.  

He thus made a huge mistake.

  After this, it became a tradition. The next year Brigid was added. My loving wife, who I think is grateful for a week of solitude and peace, is happy to stay home.  

   I love this trip every year. We camp, tour new places, hike, and at times, visit my relatives and old friends, particularly those that have children of similar age. We have visited the deepest old growth areas of the Allegheny National Forest, whitewater rafted on the Youghiogheny River, explored the baseball museum in Cooperstown, NY, toured the battlefields of Gettysburg on horseback, did the “rock scramble” at Mohunk Mountain, and visited the aquarium at the Inner Harbor of Baltimore. Last year, as we ate dinner on a deck in Annapolis, we watched as a line of historically severe thunderstorms pummeled the town.  

 I vainly try to keep it interesting.  

The family tradition is that the kids hate the trip. It takes them away from the refrigerator, their computers, and their friends. They began very early on, referring to it as “Bad Dad’s Summer Camp”. They claim to consider it to be something to endure, so that they may enjoy the remaining summer.  

   Despite this, I love to spend time with my children, watching them interact with each other. I am lucky that they are close, and enjoy each other’s company. They seem to spend most of the week laughing.  

   I am proud to say that both of my offspring are experienced campers, with strong backpacking skills. “Car camping” is thus a breeze; one of my joys is watching my kids as they set up in the evening ( I generally sit in a comfortable chair, eating corn chips with a nice spicy salsa, with a cold drink close at hand). Of course, I critique their efforts as any good parent would.  It is rewarding to watch one’s children demonstrate competence in skills that they will undoubtedly pass on to their offspring (though they adamantly deny that this will ever happen).  

   I admit to some issues. I do snore… apparently, in fact, loudly. We bought Gus a backpacking tent a year ago for use at the Philmont Boy Scout Reservation.  He now demands to sleep in it, on our trips, as far from where I am sleeping as the campsite will allow. Brigid tragically, is stuck in a two room tent with me. The dividing wall is made of nylon which offers little in the way of sound insulation. She sleeps, no matter what the temperature, with her head buried in the “mummy bag” groaning at me occasionally when I reach a crescendo.  

  Like most teens, my kids have a delayed sleep phase, preferring to “sleep in” for the morning. This has begun to work out for me as I can’t seem to sleep past the first bird call in the morning, which as it turns out, in the first weeks of June, happens about 5am. Now that the kids are older I am more comfortable leaving the campsite while they sleep.  I arise before the sun, my gear already prepared in the car.  When the weather is right, this can work out really well.  

In Vermont, several weeks ago, we had pitched on the shores of large lake on what was already an unseasonably cool night.  

A front passed, dropping an hour’s worth of rain just after we had retired to the tents. The sky then cleared and the temperature dropped further, ultimately into the low 40’s.  

 I knew on awakening that the atmospherics would be interesting… and they were. The lake was shrouded in a fog that moved deliberately over the water. A more subtle mist clouded the atmosphere elsewhere, leaving heavy dew on the marsh plants of the boggy wetlands that were a prominent feature of this state park. I spent the hour or so around sunrise walking on the lakeshore and exploring the surroundings, shooting with both the Nikon D700 and the Panasonic GH1 to a soundtrack of flutelike birdsong and distant loon calls.  

   Finally with the passage of time, the sun angles became less interesting and the fog very suddenly dissipated. I trudged back to the tents, the kid’s rhythmic breathing signaling that for now at least, they remained oblivious to the beautiful day evolving around them. It still being chilly I restarted the fireplace, zipped up my fleece and made coffee, then settled in with a book, waiting for them to awaken.  

  With Brigid on her way to college next year, I don’t know for sure for how many years I will have this time with them in June.  

  I love this trip.  I really hope we have at least a few left.

 

My daughter, Brigid Louise, was graduated  Cum Laude from Wyoming Seminary in Kingston, Pennsylvania this weekend. 

This was the 166th commencement ceremony and was beautifully organized. It was chock full of traditions, some of which were lost on this parochial school graduate. They were not lost on the graduates and their parents, many of whom were multi-generational alumni.

Congratulations Brigid. 

And thanks to the teachers and Staff at “Sem”,  for her wonderful  education. 

 

The Mountain Laurels are starting to bloom in Pennsylvania.

    This is our state flower, and its emergence marks the point where our climate finally evolves from the fickle whims of April and May, to the soft summer weather of June. It is a moment of unconscious celebration for people who begin to open their pools, grill in the evening after work, and sit on the porches at night, listening to the distant call of whippoorwill.

   Here in the northeastern part of the state, we are beginning to see the delicate clusters of white blooms open up on the lower altitude woodland slopes in our region. By mid to late June they will bloom in abundance throughout the northern third of the commonwealth.

   I have for the last fifteen years, taken a week of vacation at this time, to wander the mountains, either by backpacking, or more recently, because of the burgeoning weight of my photo equipment, and a bad knee, car camping and day hiking. The laurels, and their cousins, wild rhododendrons, provide the forests their last splash of widespread color before they settle in to the monotonous green of summer. Arguably, it is the last time until fall, for a photographer to use wider lenses in the forest. After the laurels are extinguished,  longer focal  lengths become more useful to capture the later blooming wildflowers which are scattered throughout the woodland greenery.

I have several striking memories of this time of year involving Mountain Laurels:

   I first hiked the West Rim Trail of north central Pennsylvania in mid June, perhaps eighteen years ago. I was mainly a mountain biker at the time and hadn’t backpacked in years. I didn’t realize at the time, the different conditioning needed to carry a pack over distance. The rugged trail, plus the weight on my back played hell with my feet.  The weather had been wet, and I remember being extremely eager for the trip to end. I was getting close on the third day. The last portion of the trail diverts west into the Tioga State Forest, apparently to avoid Coulton Point State Park which hugs the rim of the” Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania”  in that location. Within the last four miles of its northern terminus, the trail leaves the woods to once again skirt the edge of the gorge.

   The Pine River gorge at this point is roughly 800 feet above the river, and the edges are swathed in laurel, which was in full bloom as I emerged from the forest on the path as it swerved to edge of the ridge. My jaw dropped at the beauty. White blossoms were everywhere, densely surrounding the trail. To my right was the spectacular vista off the ridge. I photographed it at the time but the small pocket camera and I were inadequate to the task, and the results were unpublishable. The memory of this, however, was worth every blister.

   A year later, I was on the Loyalsock Trail in the Wyoming State forest. This is a very vertical trail, laid out I am told by an Explorer troop, which must have had very sadistic leadership.

   I was in better shape that year and enjoying as I recall some wonderful June weather with blue skies, seventy degree days, and fifty degree nights. Hiking with several friends, we lugged our heavy backpacks up another of the seemingly limitless up hill climbs that mark the trail’s early miles.

    I remember cresting a hill, and looking down on a relatively old growth stand of trees on the vast wooded slope below. The canopy was quite high, perhaps 150 feet. There was a feeling of being in a vast verdant space. The forest floor was lush with white laurels, all in full bloom, a carpet that extended for as far as your eyes could discern. All of this was dappled with shafts of sunlight, occurring at random spots where the leaf cover was spare. No one could help but to stop, and stare. Though it was only 11 AM, we found a log on which to sit, and ate our lunch early.

June is a wonderful time of year in the eastern mountains.

 Perhaps God makes the Mountain Laurels bloom, just to remind us.