Modern, film-free photography benefits from the law of averages - meaning, if you take enough shots, one of them is bound to be good. A fun challenge in that framework...can you transform a throwaway picture to something worth keeping? This photo is a good example of it. I am sure many people who take pictures with their phones forget to wipe the lenses off before they do, and I am no exception. Sometimes.

We were visiting Sister Bay, Wisconsin back in June when I grabbed this shot of a sailboat in the harbor. And, while I would have been quick to toss it out because of smudge on the lens, I decided to give it a go with my trusty Lightroom tweaks to see what I could make out of it. I like the result and now take second looks at my shots before I delete them, since there is probably more potential in them than I realize.

I had a chance to take my new iPhone for a photographic spin the other day, and was not disappointed with the results. My wife was busy yelling at the Pittsburgh Steelers game while we were out for lunch, so I took some time to stroll around where we were eating, since the last place you want to be is next to a fan of that team when they're losing.

I grabbed a couple of wide angle shots and then decided to experiment with the isometric angles of the pier's railing where I was shooting. The lenses and sensor on my new phone have a noticeable improvement in the details they capture, and Lightroom did a great job accentuating the textures of the bench and the wood, as you can see in this shot. The funny part? This picture also looks like one that you would see on the cover of a high school text book - Practical Algebra for High School Students feels like a fitting title. If you are reading this and happen to be in the book publishing business...I'd be happy to cash the royalty checks for your using this one!

I mentioned in my last post that lighting is a real make or break for my outdoor shots. While I used to think having the sun high ion the sky to eliminate shadows was a good idea, it actually seems to wash out certain details or emphasize something just a little too much. This photo was captured back in the spring with the sun 45 minutes away from dipping into the horizon.

We have coastal lakes at the beaches where I live that sometimes stretch themselves into the gulf through channels the water forms in the sand. When you combine that geology with the setting sun, sometimes you strike gold - like the channel in this picture.

I like Manfred Mann's remake of the song this post is named after, despite having one of the most misheard lyrics out there - it's "...wrapped like a DEUCE, another runner in the night," and NOT DOUCHE. BIG difference that I am sure Bruce Springsteen, the songwriter, wishes it turned out a little clearer. Anyway, I am learning that light giveth and taketh away on outdoor shots. This one was from a hike to Anna Ruby Falls in Northern Georgia on a beautiful September afternoon - the weather and trail scenery was stunning.

Unfortunately, when I went to do my post processing, I noticed I had quite a few shots like this one where some of the details were washed out because the sun was almost directly above us. Lesson learned - I need to plan for it to be lower in the sky.

The title of this entry is a shoutout to a Pink Floyd song, but also nails it for describing what the sun seems to be doing here - slowly collapsing into the arms of a couple of condo buildings who are lowering it into the horizon. I have mentioned it here that sunsets in my neck of the woods all have unique personalities that are influenced by the season. This was a nice, hot, lazy July afternoon...pretty fitting.

The weather was suffering an identity crisis the day I captured this shot at the beach. It was not only foggy, but the temperature also shifted quite a bit in a colder direction pretty quickly, which made me kick myself for not bringing a jacket. Anyway, I am a fan of narrative conflict, and this one has "Man vs. Nature" written all over it - you have to admire the person with the paddle board ignoring the same temperature shift to see if things were calm enough to go out  for a cruise.

This is not my shot - it was my daughter's from when she visited the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta. The combination of the tranquil shade of blue of the water with jellyfish seemingly frozen in time is mesmerizing. We also get jellies at our beaches here in Florida, and while they can be pretty and almost hypnotic, their colors trend flat and don't sport the long tendrils like these do.

​Well done, Mother Nature.

Time and patience are two critical variables to nature getting its act together and displaying something worth capturing. You may sit for hours, waiting for the right light to hit the perfect angle in a landscape shooting expedition. Or, like these examples, nature may slowly assemble something you are lucky enough to stumble over while drifting about.

The first one is a great example of the sedimentary layers of a dune at a nearby beach we frequent. I imagine, with the right calculus, you could figure out how long it took for the different sand slivers to pile up and reveal themselves. The second is a from drainage channel fed by a coastal lake near the other shot that looks like some kind of exotic form of marble or metamorphic rock. This one probably took less time to form, but shares a similar dramatic effect with the sand dune.   

I mentioned earlier that I have a fancy DSLR camera with all kinds of lenses and buttons, but it is an unrealistic expectation to lug it around everywhere I go. First, it's not very convenient and second off - I don't want to be that weird, lurker looking guy you see sometimes at places that make you wonder why he's holding a fancy camera and milling about creepily.

I am more than happy to let my phone's camera pick up the slack of not having a more "formal" device handy when I see a shot a like...especially with night shots. My iPhone's lenses and ability to automatically lock in all of the settings that you need to think about WHILE IN THE DARK really takes the guesswork out of capturing low light scenes. Is it a novice move to do that? Does it matter?

It is pretty certain you have seen a dead tree if you have hiked through a grove of woods or a trail into the mountains. Those deaths normally appear harmless - a fallen soul who is enjoying a slow and relaxing return to the ground it sprung from. And, for the most part, trees keel over and die the same way in the woods here in Florida. But, trees dying in view of a beach decompose differently. They seem to take the opportunity of being famous in the open exposure by being more dramatic and collapsing into odd, gnarled mandibles or stand proudly longer than they should as the sun and air bleach them into eternity.

Nature enjoys drama - any documentary will tell you so with a lot of slow motion footage and tense music. Florida dead trees are no different with their drama - it just unfolds on a different time scale.