No, this hasn’t all of a sudden turned into a food blog, though you could be forgiven for thinking that based on the photographs in this post. Stay with me and I promise I will get to the photography part. Sweet potatoes, red potatoes, carrots, parsnip, brussell sprouts (you heard me) and red onions… roll them all around in a little bit of olive oil and a dash of salt and pepper… roast them on a cookie sheet for about 45 minutes at 400 degrees turning them gently every 15 minutes… hearty, eh? Just the other weekend while Sam was home from college on winter break he asked if we could do a traditional Sunday dinner… the works with turkey, vegetables, mashed potatoes, stuffing and gravy. Yikes… the only problem was that I had never actually cooked a turkey before.

They say there’s a first time for everything though, so I hopped onto the Interwebs and searched for directions on how to cook a turkey. Giblets, neck, cavity… interesting… and how best to prepare the birdie for the oven? Feeling bold, I worked my magic on seasoning our farm-fresh bird using a little bit of chicken stock, garlic, onions, butter, rosemary, thyme and more than a dash of white wine. Short version of the story… it was quite the culinary adventure with everything turning out wonderfully, and even though the photo above might not appear all that appetizing, the turkey was cooked to perfection and with all of the fixings it tasted awesome!

I promised to bring this back to photography… Santa recently brought Lori and Sam new iPhones (while I still have my work-issued piece-of-junk Blackberry), and being the gear head I am, I can’t resist picking up and exploring Lori’s phone the minute she sets it down. I admit to having serious phone envy, and am intrigued by the capabilities of this little device, especially when it comes to the camera. Before I got my hands on Lori’s phone I never really understood the spawning of the whole iPhoneography craze… I’ve read about people swearing religiously by this thing, and now I’m starting to get the attraction. It’s a very solid little camera, one that is capable of producing decent quality images and HD video. I just know if I had an iPhone of my own and a camera like this in my pocket all the time I would be making photographs 24/7, instead of only on my every-other-weekend planned and somewhat un-spontaneous photo expeditions.

Snow, rain, fog, ice… combined with milder than normal temperatures, that’s what the weird and wintry weather here in Maine has been like lately. For the unapologetic liker of warmer temperatures, the good news is that there are only two more days left until the average daily temperatures start to climb again, and even though we have a ways to go to reach springtime, that turning point in the winter season sure does bring a smile to my face. Speaking of springtime, these photographs are from a couple of years back – and a warmer time of year – when I spent a long weekend in June on Cape Cod.

My first three summers in the US were spent near Sandwich working as a camp counselor, so the Cape holds special memories for me. Some of my clearest memories are of warm summer evenings, sandy beaches that stretched forever, swimming in the clear waters of the lake, and shooting the breeze with good friends around a camp fire. As often happens when digging through the photo archives, I came across a few never-before processed files, and mainly as therapy for my winter blues, I decided to bring them to life and share.

As I walked underneath the Eagle Lake bridge I noticed that the sun, which doesn’t get very high in the sky this time of year, was playing hide and seek amongst a stand of tall, lakeside trees. Wanting to capture the sunburst, I chose a small aperture (f20) to capture the effect, and I also found the shadows reaching into the tunnel to be quite interesting. A thin layer of lingering snow baked pretty solidly with a coating of hard and rutted ice on top made for some tentative walking as I guarded my camera gear and gingerly explored the area for compositions I liked.

Eagle Lake itself was just starting to freeze over for what will now likely be a couple of months, and as I stood on the shore listening to some amazingly deep and primal sounds made by the ice and water moving, my mind was already racing forward to springtime when everything around me would be coming back to life and greening up. As with many of the structures in Acadia, the bridge at Eagle Lake has always fascinated me. The architecture is spectacularly classic Acadia, and I always seem to get drawn to arranging elements in this scene in a symmetrical way. So much for the rule of thirds, eh?

Here’s a little peek behind the lens on a recent morning spent at Otter Cliffs in Acadia National Park, and also a brief explanation of some of the things I do in post-processing to prepare images for display. I don’t usually get into this sort of thing here on the blog, but figured what the hey… someone might appreciate hearing the gory details.

One of the biggest challenges in landscape photography, especially at sunrise or sunset when there often is a wide range in the difference between lighter and darker areas in a scene, is that the camera can sometimes find it difficult to capture the full range of light. We’ve all made that picture where the sky was blue at the time, but appeared white and devoid of any texture in the photograph, or where the sky turns out great, but the rest of the picture is unnaturally darker than we wanted it to be. Our eyes are much more able to adapt to shadows and highlights than a camera is, though luckily there are a couple of solutions to this problem.

You can: 1) simply choose a combination of shutter speed, size of aperture, and iso that will give a more balanced, or average, single exposure, 2) use a graduated neutral density filter to hold back the light in brighter areas of the frame to get a “correct” exposure in one shot, or 3) you can bracket for multiple exposures and then blend them digitally when back home at the computer.

I find that averaging things out in a more contrasty early morning setting often doesn’t do the scene justice, and with my aging eyesight, I can’t be bothered fiddling with extra equipment such as filters in the field (especially if it is cold and dark). My method of choice when faced with a scene that exhibits high dynamic range is therefore 3) bracketing and digital blending using PS5.

f16, 1/2 second, iso 50

For this scene I bracketed several photographs one stop apart, each at the same aperture, though each with a different shutter speed. As you can see, the foreground rocks in the photograph above are decently exposed, but with a shutter speed of half a second, the sky is overexposed without detail and pretty much useless. Again, standing there in person I could see the wonderful colors in the sky AND the correctly exposed rocks, but the camera is not as capable as the human eye in dealing with this type of situation.

f16, 1/8 second, iso 50

In the second photograph, with a shorter shutter speed of one eighth of a second, the overall scene is a little darker with the foreground somewhat under-exposed, but in this frame the sky is a better representation of what I personally saw. Back at home in the warmth and sitting in front of the computer, I was able to apply a simple gradient mask between two separate aligned layers (steady tripod necessary), smoothly blending together and combining those parts of the scene from each image that I felt were better exposed. This achieves a similar result to using a graduated neutral density filter in the field, except that the GND doesn’t handle anything other than straight lines very well, so in my opinion (and specifically in this situation) digital blending offers more flexibility.

A simple combination of the two images from above

Some selective contrast and sharpening is then added, and voila… the finished product. My goal is usually to try and create a rendition of the scene that is somewhat similar to what I actually saw, though I have to admit as I work my way through this process I find myself taking creative license here and there and sometimes those pesky little saturation sliders get nudged more than they should!

This is another one of those locations in Acadia National Park that I hold near and dear to my heart, and it is a place I keep coming back to in different seasons. The first time I saw this view was in 1988 when Lori and I were on our honeymoon bicycling from inn to inn across Mount Desert Island. You might think that the coast road around here is pretty flat, but try riding from Bar Harbor to Northeast Harbor… methinks you will find out that it is relatively challenging, especially in the 80+ degree July weather we enjoyed. I recall coming hurtling down a pretty steep hill toward this spot, and after glancing to the right, immediately throwing on the brakes as we paused to take a break, rehydrate and soak in the beauty of Little Long Pond. Every time I pass along this stretch of road I can’t help but stop to check it out, and on this occasion I was treated to a familiar scene, a frozen lake and some bright red winterberries.

I had enjoyed a pretty nice sunrise on Boulder Beach below the always impressive Otter Cliffs but rather than heading home right away, I decided to make the most of my time here and enjoy my favorite national park some more. Despite being so low in the sky, the winter sun was actually warm-ish and comforting as I wandered along the stretch of Loop Road coastline in Acadia National Park between Otter Cliffs and Monument Cove.

Ice scattered all over the rocks made me rather cautious at times as I clambered around for pleasing compositions, but the distinct lack of snow from what has been a mild winter so far at least made my shoreline explorations navigable. I have been here in the past when deep snow blanketed much of the landscape, prompting you to be very careful so as not to fall into any of the deep and often dangerous cracks between granite slabs. Not first light and all the drama it helps unfold, but I thought this little series from my mini-hike was still worthy of sharing. Again… notice the distinct lack of company I had… a big reason why I like to spend time with my camera enjoying nature.

As the early light developed from the east, I turned my camera and focused (pun intended) on the always gorgeous and striking Otter Cliffs and round rocks laying on Boulder Beach. I never get tired of spending time here, and as I experimented with several compositional choices, I tried to accentuate the various elements in the scene. Lately I have been making a conscious effort to explore using focal lengths other than wide, though as you can see, I once again somewhat predictably (for me) stayed more toward the wide end of my 17-40mm lens. The waves from the outgoing tide were almost eerily calm, so any aspirations I had for photographing huge surf and a stormy scene were not to be… hardly the recipe for the enthusiastic landscape photographer! Having said that, this location never disappoints, and regardless of the conditions, I always find there to be enough beauty to pretty much guarantee coming away with a photograph that I like.

In the two images above, I processed them each with a slightly different white balance, and since I couldn’t decide which I liked better, I posted both. In the first image, I was also drawn to the effect that a longer shutter had on the water, and in the second, the warmer colors of the rocks got my attention. My camera was set on aperture priority mode, and in an attempt to get more of the scene in focus, I chose to shoot at f16. As the light developed slowly, the camera automatically made any adjustments to the length of the shutter needed for a correct exposure. I bracketed the scene with three images each about a stop apart, and I then blended different exposures to account for the significant amount of dynamic range there was between the lightest and darkest parts of the scene, making one image that represented more what my eye was able to see.

In this last photograph, I turned my camera to portrait orientation and used the wide angle effect to draw attention to those beautiful round rocks in the foreground. Right as I was tripping the shutter, the sun broke free from behind a low layer of clouds parked on the horizon and fleetingly raked across the scene. More “contrasty” than the other two images in this post, I wanted to show off the beautiful warm light that was being caught on the side of the rocks. Luckily a decent wave rolled in while the light was momentarily good, and I thought the warm sidelight illuminating the breaking water added something to the view.

Here’s another one from my cold morning spent in Acadia this past weekend. This was made at 6:54am before the sun had risen, though as you can see, the quickly developing light illuminating the classic round rocks was just starting to get nice. As I waited for the sun to make its scheduled appearance, a thin line of clouds hugged the horizon, and I’m not too sure if it helped or hindered the quality of light. Some of the best light (and color) occurs long before the sun actually rises, and also well after it has set, though most people either don’t get to where they need to be to experience this early enough, or they cut out as soon as the sun goes down.

You can’t quite see it in this photograph – or any of the ones I made on this morning – but there was some really cool sea smoke blowing offshore, and as I watched it I was reminded to consider paying a Mount Desert Island working harbor a visit this winter. Lobster boats chugging through sea smoke at dawn… I want to see (and photograph) that one day. The camera doesn’t record the temperature in the EXIF data that it captures, but if it did, a far from toasty -15 C would have been registered when this one as made. As always, the round rocks were the stars of the show, and the soft color palette in the wakening sky added a pretty backdrop to what is one of my favorite places.

Growing up in Ireland I recall a phrase used to describe when the weather got really cold… something about how a certain piece of an ornamental brass monkey’s anatomy might be impacted negatively by icy temperatures. Usually by mid-January we would have experienced some of those bone-chilling, brass-monkey cold temperatures, but winter this year has been relatively mild… until this morning that is. Below zero temperatures have finally arrived in these parts though, and as someone who appreciates, but doesn’t particularly enjoy, the deep-freeze of Maine winter, the beginning of the countdown toward springtime and warmer temperatures now begins in earnest. And yes… for my friends across the pond who enjoy the warming benefit of the North Atlantic Drift, that is -20 degrees C.

Let me make one thing clear… I have no problem with winter and all the beauty it brings… it is the cold I can’t deal with. Considering my aversion to cold temperatures, there are a couple of dates that hold particular significance for me. The winter solstice is a big day… even though it occurs relatively early in the season, the switch back to lengthening days doesn’t go unnoticed around here. I also have a birthday coming up, and though the novelty of merely celebrating another year has long worn off, since moving to Maine my special day has assumed much more significance as it’s the day when average temperatures reach their coldest and once again begin to rise.

Every year I resolve to take advantage of winter conditions to photograph my favorite national park with a fresh perspective, and every year I usually let those well-intentioned plans fall by the wayside, especially when I wake early and take a peek at the outside thermometer reading of -20 degrees C. Feeling brave and despite the cold, for the past few weeks I have been trying to talk myself into an early morning photography adventure to Acadia, and maybe tomorrow’s 5 F (-15 C) MLK holiday forecasted temperatures won’t be so bad? I am still trying to talk myself into it… OK, I’m going to seriously bundle up and head down to Acadia to witness the 7:09 am sunrise tomorrow… I am. In the meantime – and just in case I decide to forego the brass-monkey cold – here’s a photograph of Bass Harbor Light from a couple of years ago with more than just a dusting of snow. It might be hard to pick out in this small web version, but that’s a lobsterman zipping by offshore… can you imagine how cold it must be out on the water at this time of year?

We all love the Bangor Forest, and Jack especially loves to use the “back” entrance via Kittredge Road where you park and then climb over a huge hill that was once a city landfill. Lush and green in the summer months, on this particular winter day the hill was brown and, for this time of year, atypically barren of snow.

Another reason I like to go to the forest is to practice my photography. And when I say practice, I literally mean practice. I like to press the shutter tons of times as we explore the landscape, and whether or not we have great light, I enjoy trying to arrange the elements found in some sort of meaningful way. Most times it doesn’t work out that well, but every now and then I come home with a photograph that I like. My main goal isn’t necessarily to come away with a knockout composition, but rather to… well… practice, in the hope that when I do find myself in a more aesthetically pleasing scene I am better prepared to take advantage. On this particular morning I had decided to bring only my 50mm f1.8 lens, so rather than having the luxury of a zoom to manipulate compositions, I had to do it the old-fashioned way by moving my feet!

Anyhoo… as I wandered along the path I stumbled on the image below, and although hardly portfolio level, I kinda liked how the remnants of fall color contrasted with the more seasonal elements on the forest floor. And as I said… good practice.

From Sunday morning in the Bangor Forest… can’t resist this type of photograph, and the snow in the cool shadows on the ground contrasted wonderfully with the evergreens and warm sunlight to create a beautiful color palette.

Living so close to the Bangor Forest is like having a State Park in your own backyard. It is a gorgeous tract of land, and we are fortunate to have it available for public use. We haven’t had a lot of snow in Maine this winter (yet), but this morning the dusting of snow and pockets of ice did wonders for disguising much of the familiar terrain, making it feel as if we were exploring the winding trails for the first time. Low in the January sky, the almost warm winter sun managed to reach through the canopy and into the heart of the forest where it illuminated the snow-covered trails and pointed the way.

Feeling as though I’ve been relying on the distortion it provides a bit too much lately, I left my wide angle lens at home and spent the morning with only a 50mm lens on the camera. Tack sharp when needed, this little beauty offers a totally different (more normal) perspective, and I enjoyed experimenting with the shallower depth of field available. Definitely another Sunday morning well spent…

We were fortunate to see Death Valley at a time when Mother Nature was doing her transitional thing, flooding the lower elevations of the park to create rare and spectacular conditions. We enjoyed the contrast of warm, desert temperatures and then the sub-freezing landscape in the shadow of the Eastern Sierra. From the Owens Valley we watched the sun rise and illuminate Mt. Whitney, the highest mountain in the contiguous United States, we heard coyotes yelping along the shores of Mono Lake, and we were genuinely awed as we gazed up from the salt pans at Badwater (242 feet below sea level) toward Telescope Peak towering 11,049 feet above.

Lots of great memories made, and here’s a little slideshow I put together when we got back. As you will notice, the soundtrack is definitely original.

When we first met Chester at the local shelter five months ago, his large ears, long legs, and huge kitten paws were a dead giveaway that he was going to be a big cat. Settled in very nicely now, he eats a lot, sleeps a lot, and plays… and then he does it all over again. His appetite and energy are both voracious, so it’s no wonder that our little baby has grown so quickly.

Gone are the oversized kitten features displayed in the photograph to the right from when he first came home. He was 3 months old when I made that photograph, and even though today he might physically look like a grown up cat, spend some time with him and it doesn’t take long to realize that he is still a baby.

He is an incredibly curious kitten, and we often find him exploring inside cabinets or drawers that he can find his way into. He is intrigued by the toilet, and it is hilarious to watch him try to pounce on shadows as the back door closes. He always wants to be in whatever room we are in, and he often sits at the window, eyes darting around as birds come and go. He loves being engaged with his kitty toys, and as he mauls them, it is obvious that there’s enough raw instinct left in him that if he were allowed outside, he would likely terrorize the local wildlife.

Maggie – who is twelve years old – is beginning to tolerate Chester’s rambunctious behavior, and it is very cute to see the rare occasion when she actually allows him to lie beside her and groom her. As with us, Chester just wants to be close to Maggie, even though he sometimes doesn’t know how to tone down the energy level. He is an incredibly affectionate kitten, and as he grows and mellows, I’m sure that the two of them will become fast friends.

So… at eight months of age he must be the equivalent of what… a four year old kid? Makes sense when you watch him around the fish tank. He alternates between just chilling and watching his little friends, to cocking his head and swatting one of those huge paws as they swim by. The fish appear just as interested in him as he is in them, and they genuinely seem curious about the big cuddly cat on the other side of the glass. Luckily I don’t think he will ever develop the smarts to open the lid and really say hello to them… but you never know. Look how big he is already… and he’s still only eight months old!

I was humming the title of this post all day (U2, 1983)…

I’m usually not that big on making New Year resolutions, but if there is one thing I would like to do more of in 2012, it is visit Acadia National Park. So, wanting to start the year off just right, we took a quick New Year’s Day drive down to our favorite national park today where the sun was shining brightly and the temperature was an unseasonably balmy 45 degrees. We’re still waiting for winter to arrive here in Maine, so our time spent in Acadia today felt more like late fall than what should really be a dark and dreary time of year. No significant snow to speak of yet – hope I don’t jinx things by saying that – and it hasn’t become that cold yet.

Sand Beach was it’s usual amazing self and, based on previous experiences here in the winter, we were actually surprised that on this occasion we had to share it with a few others. I always enjoy seeing the impact of winter storms and tides that constantly shape and change the landscape here, though with the mild winter we have had so far, at this point in the season the beach still looked very familiar. Swimming at Sand Beach in the summer means tackling a frigid ocean, so when we saw a couple of brave? souls taking a January 1 dip, we were quite impressed indeed! Though if you have ever gone swimming here in the summer, you will probably wonder how much colder could it possibly be?

The rocks along the Loop Road leading from Monument Cove to Otter Cliffs were deserted, so we took the opportunity to enjoy the variety of rugged terrain that stretches all along the shore of Newport Cove. Even though we have spent considerable time exploring this area on many, many previous occasions, there always seems to be something new to discover. The detailed lines and shapes of the weathered granite are a sight to behold, and even though this area is traditionally considered a morning location photographically, it is still quite something… even in the late afternoon shadows.

As the winter sun dipped behind the mountains to the west and the temperatures became a bit more familiar for this time of year, the lengthening shadows forced us to reluctantly retreat back to the warmth of the car. Despite being disappointed about having to pack up and go home, we were at the same time extremely grateful to be able to enjoy the beauty of such a jewel of a national park right in our own backyard.

Looking forward to many more visits to Acadia… Happy New Year!

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 24,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 9 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

I’m not sure if this qualifies as a tradition, but any visit to Granny and Grandpa’s house on Long Island wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t make a pilgrimage to the All-American Hamburger joint in Massapequa. A juicy double-double cheeseburger, lightly salted french fries, and a creamy strawberry milkshake are usually followed by a short drive down to Robert Moses State Park and a walk on the beach beside the Fire Island Lighthouse. This was Christmas Eve, and the low winter light still provided some warmth, the ocean views were spectacular, and the quiet stroll helped work off what was a very yummy lunch.

As each year draws to a close, I enjoy taking a moment to go back through photographs made during the past twelve months and highlighting those that mean the most to me. I usually choose my favorites based on the physical and emotional experience I have, and it really does feel good to reflect on time well spent in places I enjoy. I have to admit, I also get a kick out of using the camera to technically create something I like to look at… making memories that will forever feed my soul. I hope that as each year passes my photographs get better – whatever that means – or at least that they invoke stronger feelings within me, both while breathing in and out perched on the rocky Atlantic shoreline, or now, as I sit here typing and reminiscing about early morning wake up calls and fingers crossed in anticipation of dramatic clouds and good light. Anyhoo… most of my 2011 favorites are – surprise, surprise – from Acadia National Park and the coast of Maine, although this year I also have a couple from a memorable March trip back home to Ireland with my oldest son Sam. Drum roll…

I had been itching to get out with the camera again, so I decided to visit one of my favorite places and see if I could capture some snow blanketing the famous round rocks below Otter Cliffs. An early start this morning got me here about 45 minutes before the sun was scheduled to crest at 6:36am, and as always, I had the place completely to myself. Though the temperature was certainly chilly, there was little to no wind blowing, and since I was dressed in several layers, the 13F actually felt quite comfortable.

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I spent a very enjoyable late afternoon exploring the area around the Marshall Point Lighthouse in the mid-coast community of Port Clyde. Originally established in 1832, the present lighthouse was built in 1857, and this is the same lighthouse Forrest Gump visited when he was traversing the country. This lighthouse is pretty unique in it’s design, with a 31 ft tall white granite and brick tower perched on the rocks at the end of a narrow walkway. A distinctive and striking black cast iron lantern houses a fresnel light that does not flash any more. The Marshall Point Lighthouse Museum on the first floor of the light keeper’s house was opened in 1990, and the whole area is meticulously cared for and maintained.

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Standing near the ocean as the night rolls in can be a somewhat unnerving experience, especially with the wind trying to knock you over and huge waves crashing in the not too far off distance. At the end of the day, the warm light from the beacon was quite comforting as I made my way back toward the car. I stopped one more time to soak in the scene… that’s when I saw this view of Pemaquid Point Lighthouse.

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I can remember visiting the Gap of Dunloe some 20+ years ago with Lori and some friends, and on that occasion we traveled in style with Dolly… the farting horse. Locals provide horse-drawn traps for the ride up to the gap, and the day we went we had a wet and windy journey up the hill, pulled by our horse who tooted all the way. This photograph is from when Sam and I visited Ireland last spring, and even though the classic greens associated with the Emerald Isle weren’t yet in full force, this was still a striking scene.

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Every single time I pass over the bridge that spans Marshall Brook I find myself staring at what I consider to be a breathtaking scene. There is something about the view laid out before you that catches my eye every time… no matter what the time of day or the prevailing weather conditions, I find myself always having to pull over. Looking north across the Bass Harbor Marsh toward Bernard (left) and Mansell Mountains (right), the eyes are treated to a snaking river that gently winds its way off into the distance.

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I spent an immensely peaceful early morning perched on a ledge overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and I couldn’t help marvel at how this is a very cool way to start the day. The sun rises before 5:00 a.m. in the summer in Maine, and as you can see from the photograph above, the pre-dawn light on this particular morning was pretty special. When the sun eventually crested over Great Head behind me, it bathed the scene in amazing warm light, with the granite absolutely lighting up with color. This view is looking south along the rugged Acadia coast toward Otter Cliffs, and other than a couple of seagulls who kept me company on the ledge, I was here all by myself.

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So… I wasn’t expecting the conditions to be particularly special on this morning, but as the light slowly climbed from the east up and over my shoulder toward the lighthouse, I started to wonder if I might actually be in for a show? There were some soft, wispy clouds behind the lighthouse, and as the day began to brighten, my jaw literally dropped as I marveled at how the high clouds were being illuminated with a phenomenal pinkish hue. Knowing that the light probably wouldn’t last long, and with a big grin on my face, I worked quickly to try to combine all of the elements within the frame into something I liked. I couldn’t have ordered better weather conditions, and the impressive lighthouse that welcomes returning mariners to Bass Harbor certainly did its part.

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Taking the Slea Head Road further west out of Dingle, we spotted a little harbor tucked into the rocks with a pretty beach. From a distance it was beautiful, and up close… even nicer. Looking over our shoulder though, we saw what looked like a path winding its way up the hillside toward the ocean. Eager for an adventure and the possibility of a nice view, we started hiking. I thought I was going to have a heart attack… too many Irish breakfasts and too much Guinness lately had me struggling to keep up with Sam. When I finally did get to a flat spot, I dropped my backpack and told him to go on ahead… I needed a rest. The headland we were on was called Dunmore Head (I think), and from here you can see Great Blasket Island straightaway, Inishnabro and Inishvickillane off to the left, and to the right is Beiginis and then Inishtooskert.

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There’s something about the fleeting appearance that Lupine make here in Maine which I really like. They explode onto the scene as the weather warms up at the start of June, but by the time July rolls around they are already starting to fade away. They are scattered all over the side of I-95 as I make my way down and back to work, and maybe it’s because they brighten my commute at this time of year, but I love the splash of color they add to the landscape. We went camping one weekend in mid-June… and despite the rainy weather, a good time was had by all. Late on the Friday afternoon we wandered up to the Beech Hill Road to hike the Canada Cliff Trail, and along the roadside we encountered a field absolutely brimming over with my favorite Maine flower… Lupine.

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If you want to discover examples of fall foliage colors in a pretty Acadia location, look no further than the path that runs alongside the Jordan Pond Stream. Starting out behind the Jordan Pond House restaurant, find the stepped trail entering the woods leading down to where the carriage road meets up with the stream, cross the bridge and make a left turn to follow the stream downhill and you will be treated to not only the soothing sound of running water, but also the wide array of foliage colors typically associated with a classic New England fall season.

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I had looked at the weather, and with a forecast of light rain and cloudy skies, it seemed like the perfect time to make a quick run down to Acadia before the fall foliage was all gone. I knew that the overcast weather and foggy conditions would offer nice even light in which to photograph the changing autumn colors at the top of Cadillac and the rejuvenated, rain-fed Jordan Pond Stream. First stop Cadillac… there is something special about being on top of a mountain when it is socked in with clouds and you have it all to yourself, and when that mountain is Cadillac, I’m in heaven.

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Fall foliage season comes and goes pretty fast around these parts, and when you factor in the potential for poor weather and the usual work commitments, chances are I might only have a couple of opportunities to try to make some photographs displaying the changing colors. This was the first photograph I made on a cool, rainy morning spent exploring the banks of the Jordan Pond Stream in Acadia National Park.

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