Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Hunkering in the Wind

Winds blew at thirty miles per hour, gusting at fifty or more. The winds, though, brought beautiful cloud formations, and they passed overhead as quickly as they appeared. It was a great opportunity for landscape photographers. I remained indoors hunkering against the wind.




An American Coot braved the choppy waters. 


 I could kick myself for forgetting to change the settings on my camera from f36 to f4 or so in order to capture the Yellow-rumped Warbler looking for worms and insects in this old Pecan tree. But after noting my mistake, I began to call this image an "artistic action shot" that shows some movement -- that makes it look interesting -- in the bird. I may have stumbled upon a new photographic genre: blurry photos that look artistic. Help me think of a good label for this. On another note, Yellow-rumped Warblers are also called Butter Butts. Last night I learned from Penny that she refers to them as such. 
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.