Across the road from where my parents live, down the hill and through the Gordon Cemetery, is the Taunton River. It is a tidal estuary. It is beautiful to visit anytime, but sunset is particularly enjoyable. On this visit I tried not only to capture realistic images, but also to use this water as paint for my digital canvas.
I admit to some frustration as I look at the incredible wealth of fantastic images existing in today's digital world. It seems there is nothing new under the sun, nothing that has not been photographed, and everything has been photographed very well. To create something new is a challenging endeavor, and I'm redoubling my effort.
Showing posts with label estuary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label estuary. Show all posts
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Sullivan, Maine
My parents live on an estuary called the Taunton River. It really isn't a river at all, but a narrows where the ocean's salt water ebbs and flows with the changing tides. At the head is Hog Bay, named for the domestic pigs that would wallow in the mud at low tide. It's just a short walk down the hill to the estuary, through the Gordon Cemetery. My parents purchased their home from the Gordon family. This headstone is for Admiral Judson Gordon, who died in New Orleans July 27, 1862. The headstone made reference to the fact that Judson answered his country's call to duty and died far from home. Though I do not know the details of this individual, some research informed me that the Battle of New Orleans was a pivotal Union victory in the Civil War. The battle was fought months before, so I can only wonder if Judson received a wound that much later proved fatal, or it he just perished of disease or some other cause, at the young age of 29 years and 4 months while serving Company 1 of the 13th Maine Regiment. How very fortunate I am, to have now lived more than two lifetimes when compared with his short time on Earth.
Here's another access to the estuary. This dirt road goes down to the water through an evergreen forest.
Many little creeks empty into the estuary.
The image below is Mud Creek. The tides come far to fill this creek bed with brackish water at every high tide.
Eel Grass and rockweed sit at the edge of the tidal basin, cast up at the high-tide line as the water ebbed.
At sunset the warm evening hues reflect off the water.
Here's an expansive view of the Taunton River, looking toward Hog Bay.
Here's another access to the estuary. This dirt road goes down to the water through an evergreen forest.
Many little creeks empty into the estuary.
The image below is Mud Creek. The tides come far to fill this creek bed with brackish water at every high tide.
Eel Grass and rockweed sit at the edge of the tidal basin, cast up at the high-tide line as the water ebbed.
At sunset the warm evening hues reflect off the water.
Here's an expansive view of the Taunton River, looking toward Hog Bay.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
West Sullivan, Maine
Growing up in Maine, I wasn't a birder. I was aware of birds, and enjoyed seeing them, and even recall having some pointed out to me along with their names or habits. But I never appreciated just how birdy my yard was. Fortunately, it still is birdy. Within sight of a tidal estuary, mud flats, deep salt water, a swamp, open fields, a hardwood forest, and evergreen trees ... its an ecotone for sure.
Whenever I visit my parents I can't look out the window without seeing some interesting bird. Here a just a few seen in the yard.
Yellow-rumped Warbler (Myrtle race).
Ruby-crowned Kinglet.
White-breasted Nuthatch.
Red-breasted Nuthatch, and in a classic pose ... they work their way down a tree with their head down. Most birds prefer to have their head up, but these little ones have plenty of grip in their feet and go down the tree head-first.
I mentioned the estuary across the street. Here it is at high tide, and sunset. It's called the Taunton River, but is really salt water as evidenced by the lobster buoys dotting its surface. It empties and refills through a narrow "reversing falls". The action of the tides cause whitewater rapids to form as the estuary cycles. It flows into Frenchman Bay, which in turn opens upon the cold, nutrient-rich Gulf of Maine ... after that it's open ocean and the vast Atlantic.
Up at the head of the estuary I photographed it in different light the next morning, at low tide. Two clam diggers work the mud flats of Hog Bay beneath the changing autumn light.
The land overlooking this estuary contains some very productive Blueberry fields, and in autumn they light up like an impressionist painting. I'm told that each blueberry plant spreads by roots, so is a single clone covering an area ... and each clone turns different autumn colors according to its own internal clock, leading to this magnificent celebration of red, yellow and orange.
An extended family of Eastern Bluebirds was working in the fields, gathering some last-minute protein to fortify themselves for the impending migration southward before winter's chill arrived.
The trees were returning their nutrients to their roots for the winter, draining all green from the leaves, revealing the true colors hidden beneath.
While driving to visit friends, and running late, we saw this beautiful pond. I advised Cyndi we had time to take three photos each, but only three. This was my first exposure. I think it was the best of my three. Often first impressions are the ones to go with.
This harbor is Sorrento, and lies off a small peninsula near my parents' home.
Common Loons in winter plumage were frequenting the harbor.
Another Red-breasted Nuthatch posed against the golden autumn hues.
Blue Jays have been a bit of a nemesis for me to photograph, and on my last day there, on one last walk through the neighborhood just before driving to the airport, this one flew down close to where I stood ... perhaps to wish me a safe journey and tempt me to return soon to listen to their raucous calls and enjoy their noisy, colorful antics.
Whenever I visit my parents I can't look out the window without seeing some interesting bird. Here a just a few seen in the yard.
Ruby-crowned Kinglet.
The trees were returning their nutrients to their roots for the winter, draining all green from the leaves, revealing the true colors hidden beneath.
While driving to visit friends, and running late, we saw this beautiful pond. I advised Cyndi we had time to take three photos each, but only three. This was my first exposure. I think it was the best of my three. Often first impressions are the ones to go with.
This harbor is Sorrento, and lies off a small peninsula near my parents' home.
Another Red-breasted Nuthatch posed against the golden autumn hues.
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