Sometimes the sun is so bright it makes photography difficult. Rather than fight with it, I decided to focus on capturing the intensity of the light and the glowing chartreuse foliage all around me.
The new leaves & grasses are so bright, when the sunlight hits them, they appear to be lit up from inside. It’s a uniquely spring color, this yellow-green; it only sticks around a short time before deepening into summer hues.
Another sign of spring: the prairie burn is complete. It looks awful at first, but it’s really just a big black, blank canvas. Soon, the green will appear and the wild, joyous riot of the prairie will return in full force.
Apologies for missing yesterday’s post. I was at an art fair all day and completely forgot about it. I do have a photo, though.
The other day, I spent a lot of time photographing the winter prairie with the thought that I wouldn’t get many more chances before spring. Two days later, I arrived to find that it had all been mowed down. I was glad I had that last shoot and excited for the rebirth of the prairie flowers that’s soon to come.
Yesterday on our walk, we came across this collaboration of grass, wind & snow. We watched as the bracing wind transformed the dried blades of grass into precision instruments, guiding their swaying movements like an invisible compass to etch these perfect arcs into the snow.
At a glance, winter is a dreary scene. Monochromatic. Bleak.
In reality, every season has a palette. Winter is rich with subtlety. Infinite gradations of brown, gray and white. And then, the shock of orange. Red. Gold. Colors that speak of sunlight. Heat. Blood. And honey.