Lately, I've been taking drives into the country looking for interesting things to shoot. For some reason, I find this old broken down barn interesting. I'm not sure if its a barn, it could be an old house.
I go alone on these trips because my driving would terrify any sane person. When I see something, I quickly check behind me and then decelerate while pulling over to the side of the road. It's enough to give a passenger white knuckles. Often I'll back-up to get a better look. If it looks promising, I'll get out and compose a few shots then move on.
Anyway, I saw this out of the corner of my eye and then pulled over about a hundred yards down the road. Maybe it reminds me of something in the past, or perhaps it has character. Whatever the case, I was intrigued enough to stop.
Here is a cityscape of Manhattan that I took from One World Observatory. High-resolution cityscapes are a way for me to explore the details in the quiet of my own home. There is no way to take it all in when you are there taking the photo.
This frame is only a small section of the city and having so much crammed together is one thing that makes New York so compelling. You could live your whole life in one part and never see it all. But maybe that's true for most places, we never really see everything. Perhaps a cab driver does, but most of us limit our movements.
Whenever I'm up high like this, I like to take photos of the expanse. It's a natural desire because scenes like this are so foreign to our earth-bound eyes. I make these photos with the knowledge that I'll look more closely during post-processing. Post-processing can take an hour or more, and during that time I am emersed in the details, as though I was right back at the scene. It's like Deja-vu all over again.
When I hear the word dune, I think of the desert, but these along the Florida beach are a different variety. Unlike the shifting sands of the Sahara, these are covered with plants and are meant to hold their shape in a storm. They are what keeps us from being washed away completely.
If you look carefully through the top of the dune, you'll see orange tape marking a sea turtle nest. Scores of volunteers comb the beach for nests, erect barriers, and take careful notes over the incubation period. Once hatched, they'll dash for the water so as not to be eaten by birds. Only a few survive to adulthood; it's a rough start to what will hopefully become a long life in the sea.
Nothing is permanent, yet everything is trying to hold on. The dunes and turtles are both pitted against the forces of nature. Perhaps the tension in the environment is what produces the beauty on earth. It seems that elemental pressures are a creative force. Without them, we'd all be washed away and overrun with too many sea turtles. On second thought, you can never have too many sea turtles.