Frost is a good thing
Well, I admit I’m a little bummed at the late arrival of winter. Typically, I prefer the opportunity to shoot a fresh coating of snow than I do left-over autumn.
But, once in a while we’re given a gift and this morning’s frost-covered landscape was just such a gift. I had just started my morning walk, wasn’t even past my front yard when I happened to notice a frost covered wildflower in my crystalized lawn . . . as close to snow as we’ve gotten this year. I knew that if I didn’t forego my morning walk I’d come back and the frost would be gone.
So, instead, I made a beeline for the back of my truck where I keep a rolled-up, six-foot length of plastic carpet runner, and then back into the house for my camera and tripod. The wildflower (sorry, despite my best effort I could not find this flower in any of my wildflower books) is only about three inches tall, so I had to get down on my belly.
I worked on several angles before my attention was attracted to a frost-tipped leaf delicately imbedded in the nearby frost-covered grasses. I adjusted my aperture to f8, looking for the leaf and foreground grasses to be in focus with a soft background to help emphasize the leaf and the layer of frost around its edges.
Then, thinking I might still be able to get in a short walk, I grabbed my carpet runner, camera and tripod and started back to the truck. But, another autumn hold-over caught my eye as I walked past the Christmas decorations I had only put up yesterday. It’s amazing how beautiful a dead, brown, curled maple leave and be. Add
a little frost and what landscape photographer wouldn’t have to stop and give it a go. So, with the plastic unrolled, once again I was on my face working my way into position for my kind of frosty.
But, now that I had stopped, why not take a couple snaps of my decorations. I really liked how the frost had added a pleasing texture and, combined with the lines on the bulb it proved an invitation that
leads my eye to a frosty red ribbon in the background. I liked how the arching diagonals sees to be corralled by the lines of the bow, likes outstretched arms.
It’s a good thing I don’t have a larger yard (not) because before I could get to the truck I was once again captivated by the brittle texture of the frosted grasses at my feet, this time with a beech leaf (I think) comfortably nestled in a pose that could not be passed up.
It was only an hour, but already the areas of the yard in direct sunlight were loosing their frost. I felt like the walk could come later . . . maybe tomorrow.