Return to The Castillo

We have returned once again to The Castillo de San Marcos, site of the oldest masonry fort in the United States. It is located in the city of St. Augustine, Florida and always a favorite photographic stop for the history and beauty of this amazing place.  This image was photographed on a blazing hot 100- degree day but the interior rooms were actually bearable.  One can almost “feel” the intensity of this place not only in the weather but in its history.  Add it to your “places to visit and photograph” list.

JayJacy.com

 

HDR NOTES:    Canon5DMarkII, Canon EF16-35L @23mm [3@-0-_2+2] processed Photomatix Pro 5, PS-CS6, Topaz DeNoise, Topaz Adjust5

See our earlier posts on The Castillo de San Marcos here.

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2014 All Rights Reserved
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Sunrise is Magical

Our travels have brought us back to a favorite ocean place of rest and refuge. The sunrise and sunsets at the ocean are always magical and worth every moment of sleepy early rising to capture them.  Go capture them . . .

JayJacy.com

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The sunrise wakes the lark to sing,
The moonrise wakes the nightingale.
Come darkness, moonrise, every thing
That is so silent, sweet, and pale:
Come, so ye wake the nightingale.

Make haste to mount, thou wistful moon,
Make haste to wake the nightingale:
Let silence set the world in tune
To hearken to that wordless tale
Which warbles from the nightingale

O herald skylark, stay thy flight
One moment, for a nightingale
Floods us with sorrow and delight.
To-morrow thou shalt hoist the sail;
Leave us to-night the nightingale.
_Christina G. Rossetti

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2014 All Rights Reserved
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A Magical Morning Mist Awaits

One of the most magical times of the day, before sunrise, in the mountains and valleys when the mist covers and lifts itself as the sun rises. It is an immensely romantic time of color and light for landscape photography just waiting for us to capture it from wherever we are.   Aiken wrote of it…

JayJacy.com

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“IT is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.

Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet
Stand before a glass and tie my tie.

Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.

It is morning. I stand by the mirror
And tie my tie once more.
While waves far off in a pale rose twilight
Crash on a white sand shore.
I stand by a mirror and comb my hair:
How small and white my face!—
The green earth tilts through a sphere of air
And bathes in a flame of space.
There are houses hanging above the stars
And stars hung under a sea …
And a sun far off in a shell of silence
Dapples my walls for me …

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
Should I not pause in the light to remember God?
Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable,
He is immense and lonely as a cloud.
I will dedicate this moment before my mirror
To him alone, for him I will comb my hair.
Accept these humble offerings, cloud of silence!
I will think of you as I descend the stair.

Vine leaves tap my window,
The snail-track shines on the stones,
Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree
Repeating two clear tones.

It is morning, I awake from a bed of silence,
Shining I rise from the starless waters of sleep.
The walls are about me still as in the evening,
I am the same, and the same name still I keep.
The earth revolves with me, yet makes no motion,
The stars pale silently in a coral sky.
In a whistling void I stand before my mirror,
Unconcerned, and tie my tie.

There are horses neighing on far-off hills
Tossing their long white manes,
And mountains flash in the rose-white dusk,
Their shoulders black with rains …
It is morning. I stand by the mirror
And surprise my soul once more;
The blue air rushes above my ceiling,
There are suns beneath my floor …

… It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness
And depart on the winds of space for I know not where,
My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket,
And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair.
There are shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven,
And a god among the stars; and I will go
Thinking of him as I might think of daybreak
And humming a tune I know …

Vine-leaves tap at the window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.”*

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“Morning Song of Senlin,” Conrad Aiken

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2014 All Rights Reserved
No Reblogs Please. Thanks