ku # 584 ~ Spring has sprung # 18
A few days ago I mentioned that if I had a pension and a sea-side shanty next to a Scottish links golf course I would be happy for the rest of my life. Of course, that fantasy would also include the wife. However, I'm resigned to the fact that that is just not gonna happen.
A more likely fantasy, albeit a low-probability one, is that the sea-side shanty is replaced with an Adirondack camp built in the heart of a tamarack bog. A nearby golf course would be a bonus. And once again, the wife is invited.
To my eye and sensibilities, a tamarack bog is the most beautiful place on the planet. I can't fully articulate why I feel that way but everything about a tamarack bog - the colors, the smells, the sounds, the textures, the wildlife that a bog attracts - just suits my eye and disposition.
Yesterday was overcast / rainy and this particular bog was on my mind. I knew that the rain would saturate the flora and thereby intensify the rusty colors (my "natural" Hue/Saturation slider) that are found in a bog in the Spring. I was hoping to be able to picture during a driving rain but the most I got was a steady rain from time to time.
Featured Comment: Aaron wrote: "... if it was permanently spring, fall, and winter a tamarack bog would be wonderful. But why don't you go back and try to photograph there and hang out a while when there are 68 trillion mosquitoes, noseeums, and black flies all singing their hit song of "buzz buzz bite" and see if you don't change your mind. Just looking at that photo makes me involuntarily swat at the air.
my response: that's why the fantasy includes a screened (to no-see-um standards) wrap-around promenade porch. Oh yeh, and some bug zappers .... and some bug repellent ... and some hat nets ... and long sleeve shirts ... and summer gloves ....
Reader Comments (2)
ummm... if it was permanently spring, fall, and winter a tamarack bog would be wonderful. But why don't you go back and try to photograph there and hang out a while when there are 68 trillion mosquitoes, noseeums, and black flies all singing their hit song of "buzz buzz bite" and see if you don't change your mind. Just looking at that photo makes me involuntarily swat at the air.
Or you could spend 3 seasons shooting and spend the entire summer inside processing?
I couldn't agree more regarding your comments on the rare beauty of a tamarack bog...and considering your eye for decay Mark, I'm not at all surprised by your interpretation.
Of all the places I've explored here, I just can't get enough of Bloomingdale Bog. The naturally occurring "rusty hues" and glowing lichens feel so supernatural to me, during late fall and early spring especially.
There is this duality here as well...so much decomposing matter being absorbed back into the earth...at the same time, I've never been in a landscape that felt more alive...like floating through the Adirondack version of a coral reef.
I enjoy just completely losing myself in the alders and grasses and tamaracks, etc. I love that you chose to ignore the sky, choosing instead to immerse the viewer completely in the skeletal, soggy details of the place. I hope you also plan on picturing during that initial burst of lime/neon green that seems to pass so quickly...unbelievable addition to your ku Mark.
As an aside, if you've never experienced paddling Twobridge Brook through Bloomingdale Bog this time of year, and don't mind battling the alders and beaver damns in spots, I highly recommend it. My brother and I paddled from 86, crossed "under" the bog corridor near the opposite end, passed under Bloomingdale Rd, and continued on until we reached some tiny road in Bloomingdale whose name I never caught...can't even begin to describe the wildlife (otter, beaver, countless birds, etc), not to mention the grasses and islands (or whatever you call clumps of spongey earth in a bog) filled with wildflowers...last May we encountered the largest patch of swamp marigolds I have ever seen...also found painted trilliums, etc. But in the context of these bog islands/forests, it's just incredible.
James