KEP Blog
Two Winter Trees
As I was warming my hands in the truck, I noticed the two trees and the dramatic sky behind them. The low winter sun casts strong shadows, which only added to the scene. Shooting directly into the sun is not something I do often. In this case I did it because it helped to complete the story.
First I posted Lonely Tree, now I'm posting Two Winter Trees. I'm moving up slowly. Anyway, this picture was taken the same day I photographed the Lonely Tree series. It was a beautiful, bright January day. The only problem was the icy northwest wind that made my forays outside of the cab short and hurried. The good thing was that when I sat in the truck to warm up I could look around and plan my next photographs.
When I photographed Two Winter Trees I had actually stopped to take a picture of some grain bins (coming soon). As I was warming my hands in the truck, I noticed the two trees and the dramatic sky behind them. The low winter sun casts strong shadows, which only added to the scene. Shooting directly into the sun is not something I do often. In this case I did it because it helped to complete the story.
Finally the big question: Do you like the colour or black and white version? When I took the picture I was thinking black and white. The elements of the photograph that interested me, the lines of the tree, the drama in the sky, the texture of the snow, and the dramatic shadows, usually work well in black and white. This time, however, my vote goes to the colour version. The subtle orange yellow light cast by the late-day sun contributes to the power of the scene – it makes it “pop” as photographers like to say.
Nikon D750 w. Nikon 70-300 f/4.5-5.6
Lonely Tree Gallery
When it is not cloudy, the January sky is a clean, rich blue. I tried to combine those elements into the Lonely Tree Series. Moving close to the tree allowed the trees strength and the pattern of its outstretched branches to contrast with the sky. For me, it is a way to show the kind of strength a living thing needs to survive in the cold, vast, Canadian prairies. I think that the tree was allowed to stand out of respect for that very strength.
My Lonely Tree Gallery represents several things that I love about photography. I like to pack my photo gear in the truck, pick a direction, and drive with no destination in mind. If you live on the prairies, you know that it will not be long before you encounter a lonely tree. The Lonely Tree Gallery is a study of a lonely tree just west of where I live.
Intensive agriculture means that almost all the trees have been planted for a specific purpose. Farmers plant them as shelter belts around their farms or in long rows to protect fields from wind erosion. Lonely trees also represent a deliberate choice. Brave and stubborn tress that grow on their own remain because the landowner chose to leave them alone. They are a testament to the tenacity of nature and to the respect that prairie people have for the natural world.
In January, the sun is low in the sky. When it is not cloudy, the January sky is a clean, rich blue. I tried to combine those elements into the Lonely Tree Series. Moving close to the tree allowed the trees strength and the pattern of its outstretched branches to contrast with the sky. For me, it is a way to show the kind of strength a living thing needs to survive in the cold, vast, Canadian prairies. I think that the tree was allowed to stand out of respect for that very strength.
Nikon D750 w. Tamron 24-70 f/2.8
Hockey on the Prairies
Hockey on the Prairies played like it used to be…and perhaps as it should be. There is something quintessentially Canadian about seeing a dad on the ice shooting pucks with his kids on a Saturday afternoon. Better yet, on a homemade rink across from the barn.
Hockey on the Prairies
Hockey on the Prairies played like it used to be…and perhaps as it should be. There is something quintessentially Canadian about seeing a dad on the ice shooting pucks with his kids on a Saturday afternoon. Better yet, on a homemade rink across from the barn.
One of the unfortunate casualties of the COVID pandemic has been kids’ sports. The boys in the picture, my nephews, are feeling the loss of their hockey season acutely. They LOVE hockey. Actually, they REALLY LOVE hockey. In their eyes, the trouble with summer is that there is no hockey. Both are enthusiastic players and students of the game, always looking for ways to improve. My brother-in-law wisely built the boys a good-sized outdoor rink so they could keep their skills sharp during the COVID hiatus.
I was out taking pictures that afternoon and decided to swing past the farm on the way home. When I saw the boys on the ice I couldn’t resist stopping in to take a few socially-distance pictures. I wanted to capture the story before me – two prairie farm boys out shooting pucks with their dad. I took photographs from several different angles as I tried to capture what was happening on the ice and the context where it was happening. I took a lot of pictures. As it happened, Hockey on the Prairies was the very last photograph I took that afternoon. All the elements came together – the enthusiastic action on the ice, dad watching in the background, and the charm of the outdoor rink in small town Manitoba.
Nikon D750 w. Tamron 24-70 f/2.8