When the sun came out after a morning of heavy rain, the light in the forest was dramatic. Intense and beautiful— light and shadow; texture and pattern; colours and hues.
light in the forest
Tag Archives: nature
Winter Colour
Colour and beauty are strewn everywhere— even in the depths of winter and in the unlikely and seemingly inhospitable spots— Its all right there for us to 'behold' .
During the past week of crisp weather, the frost coated most everything rendering the world in a muted colour palette. But as the sunlight warmed the places it shone, colours emerged more intensely than ever.
The photo above shows what I mean: the melting frost revealed the most gorgeous, brilliant colours of the small succulent plants that cling tight to the steep sandstone banks.
Red Breasted Nuthatch
The nuthatch population seems to be thriving as there are many at our feeders every day. They flit so quickly its hard to 'catch' them in a photo. I'm grateful that this one paused briefly, and posed in such a classic nuthatch posture. As a bonus for this shot, we can see something of what he's caught for his lunch.
Turkey Vulture
The Turkey Vulture is one of the strangest of the winged creatures here on the island. Its naked red head seems all out of proportion to the rest of it’s large body. Soaring overhead, its broad span casts a shadow on the grass, and at rest on the tangle of dead limbs, its folded pinions make the high collared look caricatured in drawings of vultures and vampires.
On its stark perch, the image above is one that, for me, holds an ominous tension. It is not what I would call a ‘beautiful’ bird, but it is a marvel of design and function, consuming carrion right down to the bone, finding its life in the scouring of the shore and forest.
Extraordinary Seaweed Phenomenon
This pattern of wrinkled humps of seaweed on the rising tide is relatively unusual. It takes several different weather and tide conditions conspiring together to create it.
It goes something like this: First, a southeast wind must blow at low enough tide to accumulate a build up of copious amounts of sea lettuce on the beach. Then, the further receding tide must distribute that sea lettuce over a large patch of the shallow sloping sand, a few inches thick. Then, day must be hot enough to dry the surface of the sea lettuce while the tide has ebbed. The third requirement is that the wind drop, allowing a calm windless period while the tide rises. The result is that the thick layer of sea lettuce is moved slowly from beneath, while the baked-dry surface of the sea lettuce layer is more resistant to movement, and makes for these extraordinary folds.
To me it looks something like colourful elephant skin. Or perhaps a satellite photo of mountain ridges. Or the flowing of some strange green river flowing from the distant rocks... What do you think??
Early Spring at Finlay Lake
Finlay Lake Conservation Area - Click on image for a larger view
We'd wanted to walk in to Finlay Lake for a while, so with the sun shining brilliantly, it seemed a good day to set out for this quiet spot.
The path leading through the forest was bursting with spring shoots, and the birds were singing in the canopy above us, and the winter wrens and towhees rustling in the ferns and salal.
When the path opened to the lake there were a few Buffleheads on the far side, but otherwise all was still. Occasionally a raven's call echoed through the trees, and an eagle flew past. Otherwise, simply stillness— but a stillness that is burgeoning with life.
The rainforest in winter
I've always loved the forest. As a child I loved to explore trails in the woods, to build forts, and to take a picnic to a mossy spot and sit in the quiet— sometimes with a friend. The forest has always been a place of wonder and mystery for me.
It remains so— and to me it is most deeply mysterious and wonder-full in the depths of winter when the soaking rain and the January mist and fog moves amidst the trees. The strong shapes are softened and the moss and lichens become almost luminous in the shortened daylight, as though they thrive in the winter, enjoying the relief from the droughts of August.
Some people have told me they find these short darker days with the low hanging cloud wearying. For me, along with the lichen-bearded cedars, soaking their roots in the sodden earth, and the moss that is practically jubilant in its lush growth, this is a happy time of year. It's the season of rest and replenishment.
I'll be ready when the exuberance of spring comes, and I'll be ready to dry out in the summer. But for now, it's winter, and it is very good.
Leaning, slowly falling…
Like a slow stop-motion film, this photo captures the effect of the erosion of the bank, as the weight of the trees is too much for the diminishing soil around their roots. Slowly, slowly, as the soil is washed away by high tides and wave action, the trees lean further and further, eventually falling —
There’s something about this that strikes a chord in me. The poignancy. The inevitability. The noble trees that danced in the wind, are all bound to fall.
lichen draped forest
After a day of drenching rain yesterday, and the general sogginess, the sun broke through today in a most glorious manner. Perfect weather for a walk and to venture beyond the bounds of our own homestead. We headed up to the Bluffs as we hadn't been there for a while, and I was eager to get some autumnal photo-shots from that perspective.
One of the striking sights, illumined by the brilliant sunlight, was the extravagant hangings of hairy lichens. Somehow they were more emphatically 'present' than I recall. Maybe the combination of weather patterns and clean air has made it a bumper season for lichen growth.
What caught my eye here was the dominance of the vertical lines: the tree trunks in the background, the drooping lichen in the foreground.
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variety ~ a range of colours and light
The variations in weather, sunlight and storm alternating all day on Thursday provided a rich show of colours and clouds.
The particular delight of this scene for me is not only the range of colour but the intensity of the pastoral green in the foreground contrasted with the deep grey of the storm over the Tsawwassen bluff in the distance (right). The patch of blue, which an old school-friend would remind me, is definitely 'enough to patch a sailor's pants' but in this instance it was not a guarantee of sunshine to follow. I love it though, especially with the heavy grey and white clouds, and the glint of light on the rocky islands offshore (Lion Islets for those of you with marine charts).
Life itself is full of variety in texture and colour. Vibrant. Bright colourful parts, and scary dark parts. Maybe that's something of why I am so drawn to this ever changing view. It's brim-full of life and change. Always. And in its variety, it stirs in me, at the very least, awe. Wonder.