Autumn, one of nature’s most beautiful times for photographers to capture beautiful light, color and subjects. We are off to photograph the “leaves and foliage of Autumn” in the mountains, at the lakes and in the forests from East to West, North to South for our new series “Autumn on Canvas”!
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Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain! Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne, Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand Outstretched with benedictions o’er the land, Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain! Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended So long beneath the heaven’s o’er-hanging eaves; Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attended; Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves; And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid, Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves! _Autumn, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
On a very hot (98 degrees) hazy, humid day, I trekked to photograph historic places for a design project. This image was captured at the Virginia State Arboretum shortly before a thunderstorm. The haze was so intense it was hard to see the clouds but by shooting for HDR, I was able to pick up all of the light and intensity of the clouds. Had the heat and burning sun not been so intense and the threatening approaching storm, I would have traveled to the “road not taken” for a view of the mountains and vistas. Next time, I’ll capture during the fall crisp weather at dust. Fabulous place to shoot if you love landscapes of nature and the only people I saw on this day were faithful photogs “getting the shot.” HDR Notes: See my pre-post images below and note that +2 was just about the intensity of the day.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.
“The Road Not Taken”