Mill Pond, First Snow

My day started trying to shoot this photo that I see every morning when I catch the GO bus downtown. Unfortunately, I catch the bus about 15 minutes earlier than when I got there today, and I missed the good light. These rushes practically glow gold when the sun hits them.

When I turned to swear at the sun (because that makes more sense than me getting up 15 minutes earlier, right?), I saw this flock of geese flying in front of it.

There was enough light to make cool reflections on some nearby condos.

A parking lot dusted with snow and recent tire tracks made for some cool texture.

A rare positive point about shooting in winter: You can wander around the empty playground with a camera and telephoto lens and no one calls the cops. A giant turquoise tongue.

Slide curve with fake bokeh.

Rings with real bokeh.

Where the net meets the line, and small mounds of snow.

Sara Conner's recurring nightmare, dusted with nuclear ash. Or snow. No skulls to be seen.

The old bell at the fire station.

I was certainly taking my time getting to the Mill Pond. Here's a blue door that caught my eye as I walked.

We have to be very detailed with our instructions in Richmond Hill.

My overexposed swan friends, caught here swimming in the Mill Pond's last remaining open water, when the sun made a brief appearance.

One day I'll figure out how to shoot shots like this. Today was not that day.

Radical snow grain and rock.

Fat bastard with big claws. Someone else fed it; I don't because I know eventually they'll be mugging people for peanuts.

© Jeremy Buehler and Bug Noir (www.bugnoir.com), 2010.

Mill Pond - Fall Flavour

Had to go for a walk today to see what was left of the colors. It was a beautiful day and I wasn't disappointed.

The walk to the pond showed signs of the best colors already gone. There was still enough to put most of the Nova Scotia color I saw to shame; we're lucky to have maple trees in abundance.

This is a heron. A bit fuzzy, but I had to put it in for Tim.

Fat squirrel is fat.

On golden pond.

The yellows seemed to be particularly vibrant.

Black and white on the boardwalk.

Red and blue.

Empty nest syndrome.

Yellow in front of the fountain.

The fountain and frozen pre-sunset light.

Duck a la blue.

Looking down a colorful street.

© Jeremy Buehler and Bug Noir (www.bugnoir.com), 2010.

Halifax: Day 20, Into the Oven

Today was a trip to Lunenburg and surrounding area. No bluenose in sight, contrary to a very misleading sign. Mixed weather meant great light, but only after the cloud cover cleared - totally unpredictable.

A whale vertebrae at the Lunenburg wharf. About three feet wide.

A boat anchored near Lunenburg.

Sea weed on rocks.

Hut.

The road was very close to the ocean, but the tide was out.

Low tide exposed awesome rocks.

One of many herons beside the road, not at all afraid of cars unless they stop so the occupants could take photos.

The next stop was The Ovens National Park.

I saw my first deer in Halifax; this doe and later, a 2-point buck.

The park features natural caves in the cliffs, at water level, bored out by ocean. One, called the Cannon Cave, makes incredible noise when the tide is right, booming with every large wave.

The quickly changing weather presented us with a rainbow as we departed.

© Jeremy Buehler and Bug Noir (www.bugnoir.com), 2010.

Halifax: Day Seven, Rain Day

Today was a rain day, and I didn't take a picture. I did, however, switch hosts; tomorrow will be a full day of taking advantage of the excellent weather forecast in the 'valley'.

These photos are from day four.

Tried to capture the leading lines created by the wood in this long exposure.

This reminds me of an Ansel Adams photo; mine is not nearly as good, for many reasons.

Roots are one of the thing about the woods that keep me going back... I tried a few ways to capture them.

This shot is the closest I've come to capturing the feeling of the ravine.

Another fine example of a charismatic root.

Walking tall shadows.

This guy was very annoyed by my presence, and he yelled at me for about 10 minutes.

The 'large intestine' root... according to Tim.

Another stump, lit by tree-filtered light.

Dead soldiers overlooking the harbour.

© Jeremy Buehler and Bug Noir (www.bugnoir.com), 2010.

That Darn Cat

Tonight's plan was to go to the woods at the north end of the Mill Pond and try to take advantage of the fantastic sunlight at the end of this sunny day. Maybe if I say sun enough it will come back tomorrow!

My plans, as usual, were foiled. This time by wildlife.

When I first arrived at the Mill Pond I saw this cat. The cat saw me, and it jumped a little... it seemed skittish. Then it stopped, stared, and relaxed. It had sized me up, lens flare and all.

It walked over to me and I knew I was in trouble.

It had something to say...

...so it sat me down and said it.

Obviously the animal was terrified of me.

After an hour had passed I had to lift him off me. He was an older guy, and as generous as I am with my body heat, I was concerned he'd just stay there for hours.

I walked back to the sidewalk and he followed me for a bit, which was a concern, until he stopped and waved.

I got back to what I came to do! This shot was actually taken before the cat incident on the way to the park; the rest, after the cat on the way home.

I'd originally wanted to be in the woods for these kinds of shots, but I think I got better results along the street, where fewer trees meant more light could get through. This was a spectacular example of near-sunset natural spot lighting.

What color there is really stands out, even the subtle difference in greens from one type of tree to the next.

More spotlights on some great bark. I might have zoomed closer if I had my 18-200mm with me (I just had the 35mm and my flash in my backpack, ready for my woods excursion).

The shadows here might have been better represented in black and white, but I think they hold up in green too. Besides, soon these trees will have no leaves; I'd like to enjoy it while I can.

My apartment building, basking in the good light.

© Jeremy Buehler and Bug Noir (www.bugnoir.com), 2010.