Color

I don’t usually shoot spring colors. It’s not that I don’t love them and find them a balm after even a mild, if dark winter. It’s rather that I find it hard to say anything visually engaging beyond a simple record of what has been brought forth.

As I walked in the Arboretum this clear, spring morning, I looked as an artist, which means for me that I do my best to let go of intellect and be guided by what I see, letting it lead me to a more visceral connection to tree or hillside or, well, whatever captures my eye.

I’ve always loved this huge white oak on Peters Hill. I’m waiting for the leaves to bud out a bit more so that they can be framed by the crabapples and evergreens. In the meantime, I found friend maple this morning with gentle light. Not a typical landscape – no vista! – but an enjoyable moment.