Made the decision to turn right at the mouth of the Liberty Tunnel, go to Mount Washington and photograph the city in fog on the way to school this morning.
I thought the above shot was best with the gift of light on the incline car, as it prepared to head down the mountain. No tripod although there was a man with one. I stabilized my camera on the iron fence.
Of course, the light changes every moment as the sunrises in the east. All shots taken with 24-70 lens on the Canon 5D Mark ii
One vertical shot. Light and dark/ Cloud and shadow.
Trying to get the best view in the frame.
Being there. looking at the city in the fog, was a magnificent experience. The limits of photography.
It felt like being in a plane but you’re standing on a concrete platform by the incline, looking at the city disappear in a foggy sea. Wasn’t it just last week I was photographing the icy river and the barge lane? Today felt like early Spring.
Last week I borrowed Erika’s pink tulips in Ohio and put the vase outside in the snow to photograph the contrast.
Perhaps you saw that post.
My sister is the one who said, “Buy Spring flowers like the Germans did when you lived in Germany” and I took her advice.
This morning I went to the market to get some fresh produce and a bunch of tulips was 4.99 which I thought was well worth it. They’re from Virginia.
What a different feeling a bouquet of Spring tulips can bring to your spirit.
“We lost an hour of winter”, Mary told me when we set the clocks forward.
This afternoon the sun came in through the dining room window but it didn’t hit the table so I put the vase on the floor to catch the light.
Hope for Imminent Spring could be another title.
p.s. My sister wrote an early email after she saw the Tulips in the Sun post to ask me “did you remember to put the 3 pennies in the water? It make the tulips last longer. Hint from the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.”
First posted in February 2010 and again in 2013. Thanks Timons Esaias Guest Poet
Tim’s Poem Came to Mind as I Admired the Concrete First Time in Two Weeks – Photographed Feb 2010
By Their Sidewalks You Will Know Them
Originally there were eleven Commandments
Moses, perhaps confused by the unfamiliar
snow, ice, and sidewalk,
botched one, and left it out.
But Buddha said that though Life is Pain,
falling on ice is gratuitous pain
and those who cause it, by neglect,
should never escape the Wheel of Rebirth;
and Lao-Tzu agreed, for those who will not
clear the path will never find the Way.
Zoroaster, in the endless war of light
against ice, demanded diligence;
claimed that those who surrender
the public way to the Enemy
have empty souls,
can scarcely be regarded as human.
The Prophet, regarding sidewalks and snow,
is silent; but his sura
Sand Drifting Against the Caravanserai Gate
is thought to apply. The condemnation there
is brutal and eternal.
Plato counted safe sidewalks as fundamental
to the ideal Republic, noting that those remiss
in this clear duty lacked all character;
and his pupil – perceptive, immortal Aristotle-
further declared, famously, that
lack of character
Timons Esaias is a writer and poet living in Pittsburgh. His short stories, ranging from literary to genre, have been published in fourteen languages. He has had over a hundred poems in print, including Spanish, Swedish and Chinese translations, in such markets as 5AM, Bathtub Gin, Main Street Rag, Willard & Maple, Elysian Fields Quarterly: The Literary Journal of Baseball and many others. He has also been a finalist for the British Science Fiction Award, and won the Asimov’s Readers Award. His poetry chapbook, The Influence of Pigeons on Architecture, sold out two editions. He is Adjunct Faculty at Seton Hill University, in the Writing Popular Fiction M.F.A. Program. This poem was originally published in hotmetalpoets.com when it existed.
This entry was posted on February 19, 2010. It was filed under poetry, Things in the Snow and was tagged with city scene, HIghland Park, photo of the day, photography, Pittsburgh, Poem, poet, poetry, shovel, sidewalk, snow, Timons Esaias, urban scene, winter scene.
Too deep for me.
February 19, 2010 at 7:07 am Edit
Makes me happy that our sidewalks are clear and clean – thanks to Mike!! I couldn’t handle all those punishments! Seems like an almost normal day today!! Thanks for starting it with something special!!! Did Bill mean the snow was too deep – or the poem??!! Either way, I agree! My mind is mush (like this snow will soon be) — been in the house too long!!!
February 19, 2010 at 8:42 am Edit
All tis is great Ruth. It is like your photos and words are a diary of living through these snowy days.
February 19, 2010 at 9:12 am Edit
Too wonderful for … words?? :-) Changes my attitude on shoveling, altho I am already somewhat aware that I smile and feel satisfaction when I get to the concrete! A bit anxious now, tho, about the snow still on the bushes, bending branches low over the sidewalk leading to my caravanserai gate ……! :-)
February 19, 2010 at 9:52 am Edit
There is a special place in hell
where, frozen in ice, only his rear
exposed to Satan’s teeth, he’ll dwell
whose sidewalk’s untouched while his driveway’s clear.
February 19, 2010 at 10:50 am Edit
that is one great photo
February 19, 2010 at 4:27 pm Edit
I know the snow is a pain, but it is beautiful. I enjoy the pic very much.
The result of an enthusiastic snow plower.
A pile of asphalt chunks by where I parked.
I photographed it as I was getting ready to head home this afternoon
Can you find the “puppy”? and the “smiling face”?
Like a sculpture garden as I made my way into school this morning
Cinderblock in the snow
and how the school looked through my impressionistic windshield-
on my way home
Talking about weather and the impact on our lives has taken a prominent role this season.
We’ve had enough of winter here and we’re not Boston. I see their photos of piles of snow to the rooftops. Ugh.
Not sure how they can stand it. What will happen when it all melts?
Dangerous driving, slick roads, walking warily. Ice you can’t see.
Grateful for a furnace and power. Everything seems more of an effort.
Just the tips of the top of the PPG building, reminded me of a sandcastle at the beach.
And up over the hill, the rest of the skyline.
You can see the barge lane in the middle of the icy Monongahela River. Don’t let the blue sky fool you, it was really cold.
A panorama taken with the Sony Mirrorless camera. First time I used this feature.
This was actually the first shot Monday afternoon as I pulled out of the school lot.
First time the sun had shown itself in awhile.
Headed to the garage, time for school.
I make tentative choices- try to place my feet
When I unlock the car, the rear lights show where it’s rough on the
temporary ice rink.
Thaw and melt
makes frozen glass on top of gravel and mud. I saw the moon.
Down the slick hill to the main road,
I pulled over, waited for cloud cover to move
A couple of grainy cell phone pics, try to capture the moon, the mood-
then off to work.
I’m helping out with the grandkids this weekend.
At breakfast, I looked out the kitchen window and saw rays of sun.
Threw a coat over my pajamas, added my hat, laced up my boots, got my camera, and tried to capture some winter sun.
Worried about that groundhog seeing his shadow on Groundhog’s Day.
the edges of the metal decorative windmill
Frost pattern on wooden that didn’t get put inside in the fall
Swing Set Chains, one rubber coated,the other metal.
A few shots I took while doing a photo shoot on Sunday afternoon.