It’s easy to forget that the Salt River Wild Horses are just that … wild. I got this closeup using a 100mm lens, which means that I was very close to the horse, who had approached me. Within a few minutes, the horse got bored and moved on.
Most of them have deep gashes and cuts, evidence of their power and strength. They fight. They bite. They jostle for dominance. They are pure beauty.
If you are interested in more about the debate surrounding the Salt River Wild Horses:
And most recently, this disturbing news:
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
from Desiderata by Max Ehrmann (1872-1945)
The weather was simply too beautiful to stay inside today, so I took my camera out to a local park to photograph, just for the sheer joy of capturing the image. As I sat near the small lake, my eye was drawn to the reflections of the columns in the water; I then noticed that the ripples of the water are projected onto the columns, creating a double reflection. The symmetry of the lines and curves and the muted brown and grey tones brought to mind this line from the poem Desiderata (“essential things”).
I took a friend from Shanghai to photograph our state’s treasure, The Grand Canyon. I was disappointed that I could not “give” her one of Arizona’s fabulous sunsets which would paint the canyon in a riot of colors and hues. When I viewed my images later, I realized that what we had captured might be as good as, or better than, the typical sunset photograph that is ubiquitous throughout the gift shops in Arizona and on the Internet.
We had waited patiently for sunset, just sure that the clouds would shift ever so slightly to allow the sun to give us a show. We watched the rain as it moved around the butte to form a soft curtain which made its path steadily toward us.
I’m sure that we looked absurd when we donned rain ponchos and held umbrellas above our cameras as we stubbornly stayed to capture the last bit of light and shadow in The Grand Canyon (and before the last shuttle departed).
Throughout the day, I had wished for a break in the clouds for the dance of light in the canyon. We got a few glorious moments.
Frustrated with my lack of success with last night’s Full Moon, I went out tonight to capture the Waxing Gibbous Moon, which I actually prefer to shoot because the craters become more visible as the moon leaves its full moon stage. [According to the Farmer’s Almanac, November’s Full Moon is traditionally known as the Beaver Moon because it was the time to set traps before the waters froze over. It was also called the Full Frost Moon.]
I am glad that I went out tonight to try to lasso the moon because, while waiting for the moon to rise, I found some pretty cool reflections in the pond and some interesting contrast of light and shadow.