Reassuring moments in physics #5 – snow on the side of the barn

Figure 1 – Snow on the side of the barn, Christmas Day, Sudbury, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Figure 1 is another photograph that I took after the storm on Christmas.It struck me as a bit incongruous that the snow had stuck to the side of the barn, and I particularly liked the fingers of snow offset by the texture of the barn wood. 

Ultimately, this is I think, a wet snow phenomenon. If the ground and air temperature is below 32 deg. F you wind up with light powdery snow. On the other hand if it strikes a “warm” surface the snow partially melts. You have wet snow. You know, the stuff that snowmen are made of. Of course, you can still make snowballs out of powdery snow if you use warm hands and a lot of pressure. Pressure causes snow to melt, because water is denser than ice near 32 deg C. That is why you can skate on ice, but not say dry ice, which is carbon dioxide not water. But I digress. Here the warmth of the barn has melted the snow allowing it to stick to its outer surface. Of course, there is a limit to the weight that can be borne, before plob…

Ain’t physics wonderful? Damn straight it is.

Snow and ice on Christmas Day

Figure 1 – Snow and ice on Christmas Day, Sudbury, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Christmas day in New England began with a snow and ice storm and ended with a magical ice world set against perfect blue sky. In the early afternoon i went out to take some photographs intrigued by the gem like  quality of the ice covered trees. In Figure 1 we have a snow-covered pine with icicles dripping in the sunlight. The tips sparkle like little stars and I am reminded of why, despite the cold, New England is such a wonderful place to live. It is as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said:

“Winter giveth the fields, and the trees so old,
their beards of icicles and snow.”

I have tried this kind of subject before, sunlight through icicles, and to some extent, I am invariably defeated by the depth of the dynamic range. I am somewhat pleased by this image. But it still seems to fall somewhat short of capturing the total beauty of the moment.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 70 mm, ISO 400, Aperture Priority AE Mode 1/640th sec at f/13.0 with -1 exposure compensation.

Seasons Greetings from Hati and Skoll Gallery

I want to wish all of my dear friends and readers Happy Holidays, A joyous season, and all the best wishes for the New Year!

We awake this morning to a white Christmas in New England. Let’s hope that it is auspicious of good things. And remember that good things do not just come about; they must be worked for. The possibilities are infinite!

Now we are slaves. Next year, may we be free men.”

The white rose

Figure 1 – The white rose, Concord, MA, (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Christmas is, of course, a colorful time of year and is meant to challenge the grey December bleakness. The traditional colors are red and green, silver and gold. To be different, I thought I would offer something different today – a pure white rose.  I have tried this type of image before and am invariably unhappy at some level with the results. Ah well! I will point out that a white rose while complementing winter on one hand is like the colors of Christmas diametrically opposed to it on the other hand. The white rose speaks to spring and summer – to purity and rebirth. In winter it remains the symbol of Persephone still trapped in the underworld.

The relationship of the albino rose to its carmine relatives it but a matter of … Well, perhaps Shakespeare said it best in Henry VI.

“Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,
Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red
And fall on my side so, against your will.”

Canon T2i with EF-S18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 IS STM lens at 55 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE Mode, 1/50 th sec f/9.0 with -1 exposure compensation.

Monument Square

Figure 1 – From the Colonial Inn looking onto Monument Square, Concord, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Winter is a fact of life in New England, and New Englanders embrace it. Here in December, we are on the near side of the Christmas holidays and there is a raw novelty to winter’s bite.  Everything is decked out in vivid color and light. We eschew gaudy light displays and favor, instead, the traditional candle in each window. This, of course, is meant to draw and welcome the pilgrim home.

No place epitomizes Massachusetts more, this time of year, than Concord. It is where our journey as a nation began on a chilly, windy April morning. To those who would threaten or democracy, I echo again the wordss of Edward R, Murrow: “We are not descended of fearful men.” We went today for a pre-Christmas luncheon  with a dear friend. And in the spirit of New England, I had my once in every two years or so New England Clam Chowder – pronounced, of course, as chowda. The Inn dates back to 1716 – so if building could talk, it could tell of that morning.

I brought my camera along for inspiration, as there was the annual gingerbread house competition among local businesses. Why do I feel like I am living in a Hallmark Channel movie? As I stepped onto the Inn’s porch, I took the image of Figure 1 showing Monument Square and Routes 4/2a to Lexington, “the Battle Road.” The church that you can just make out is “Holy Family Parish,” which lies along side “The Old Burial Ground,” built on a glacial drumlin. I guess, that in a sense this photograph displays the two diametrically opposed solstices and their attendant holidays, Christmas and the Fourth of July.

Canon T2i with EF-S18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 IS STM lens at 35 mm (unusual for me), ISO 1600 (ever set for birding), Aperture Priority AE Mode 1/640th sec at f/8.0 with no exposure compensation. 

The Baker Street Irregulars

Fogure 1 – Children carrying Christmas greens. In the public domain in the United States because of its age.

In my searches for images of Christmases past I came across the photograph of Figure 1. It shows a group of London children, with delighted faces, carrying holly and mistletoe. The picture was from 1915 so both Edwardian and during the First World War. In that context there is a lot going on – poor children, grubbily dressed, both still with happy faces.So it isn’t a charming little image of Christmas in the “good ol’ days,” but rather a rawer image of Christmas past.

To me it is most reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes’ Baker Street Irregulars.

     “At this moment there was a loud ring at the bell, and I could hear Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, raising her voice in a wail of expostulation and dismay.
     “By heavens, Holmes,” I said, half rising, “I believe that they are really after us.”
     “No, it’s not quite so bad as that. It is the unofficial force—the Baker Street irregulars.
     As he spoke, there came a swift pattering of naked feet upon the stairs, a clatter of high voices, and in rushed a dozen dirty and ragged little street…. There was some show of discipline among them, despite their tumultuous entry, for they instantly drew up in line and stood facing us with expectant faces. One of their number, taller and older than the others, stood forward with an air of lounging superiority which was very funny in such a disreputable little scarecrow.”
    
     Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – The Sign of the Four (1890)

As a result, we can see this as a kind of triangle of fiction and reality. Conan Doyle is writing fiction, but describing what he sees and what is familiar. The photographer is making a social statement, projecting what he perceives to what we see. And finally we, as viewers of the image, complete the triangle. We relate it back to the fictional characters that are part of the collective thought of generations of Sherlock Holmes readers. And we recognize, through Dickens, that life was not always so lovely.

Tufted titmouse

Figure 1 – Tufted titmous, Sudbury, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Before we get too far into winter, I wanted to post the photograph of Figure 1. Just after Thanksgiving I put up mu bird-feeder for the winter and literally within minutes it was swarming with birds. One of my favorite feeder birds is the little greyish blue tufted titmouse, Baeolophus bicolor, shown in the photo. I can, of course not resist reference here to Gilbert and Sulivan’s Mikado.

“On a tree by a river a little tom-tit
Sang “Willow, titwillow, titwillow”
And I said to him, “Dicky-bird, why do you sit
Singing ‘Willow, titwillow, titwillow'”
“Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?” I cried
“Or a rather tough worm in your little inside”
With a shake of his poor little head, he replied
“Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!”

Well, yesterday we had our first snowfall of the season and the titmice (or mouses) (I will not go into that argument again) are scurrying about very busily. Their size make them very hard to photograph well. But you have to love the little Elvis bouffant and the jet black eyes, that speak so well to their reptilian origin.

They will be outside my window all winter now flit to and from the feeder and foraging for fallen seeds in the snow. One cannot help but admire their ability to endure the vicious Northern winter.

The Consistency of Christmas

Figure 1 Woman and Christmas tree c. 1860. in the Public Domain in the United States because of its age.

Yesterday was our first snow of the year, and this morning it is absolutely gorgeous! I have been trying to get into the “Christmas Spirit” by ignoring world and national events and by searching the web for antique Christmas images. What I have found is an amazing consistency of western tradition. Christmas is pretty much the same as it has always been. There are styles and regionalisms, of course, but the fundamental celebration remains the same.

“One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.”

Dylan Thomas, A Child’s Christmas in Wales

There are literally thousands of images, both candid and posed, of excited children and families in their “Sunday Best” posed rigidly in front of Christmas trees. These span the period from the 1860’s to today. I am particularly delighted by a photograph of “mom” from 1959 happily holding her cherished gift of Ricky Nelson albums. 

Figure 1 shows a young woman in crinoline from around 1860 standing before “the family” Christmas tree. We feel that we could inject ourselves, or be injected, seamlessly into this little happy scene. I find myself wanting to extend my perception, to look out the window and wonder what is going on in homes next door.

“Quite deliberately my friend drops a kettle on the floor. I tap-dance in front of closed doors. One by one the household emerges, looking as though they’d like to kill us both; but it’s Christmas, so they can’t.”
 Truman Capote, A Christmas Memory

We connect with frozen memories, contrived or real, from Christmases past. And we are compelled to add to the mountains of photographic memories. So many will be posted on Instagram and Facebook this December 25. Let’s take a lesson from Old Scrooge and remember how to laugh.

“Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years it was a splendid laugh!”
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

The great fuzzy time

Figure 1 – van der Weyde Madison Square Park and the Flatiron Building in a Sunday Storm 1 – February 20, 1916, from the New York Tribune, in the United States LOC and in the public domain in the United States.

By definition the past is fuzzy. And the only reason that we may feel otherwise about it is that our minds “abhor a vacuum,” and we fill in all the missing pieces. Memories fade, I’m afraid that we tend to, well, make things up.

We have looked at a lot of old photographs on this blog and spoken about capturing moments in time. And one of the dominant features of photographs, unlike memories, is that they can be crystal clear. Indeed, we so often marvel in their sharpness and feel almost that we are intruding on the past. How were photographs distributed in the past? There were three basic modes: 1. as personal cherished images themselves, 2. in magazines, and 3. in newspapers. Magazines and newspapers were the internet of their day. Newspapers probably more so because they were daily. But one point to remember is that photographs in newspapers were generally printed by rotogravure. This was not an inconsequential piece of technology, its origins date back to 1852 when Fox Talbot described using a piece of cloth to produce a photographic half tone plate.

But a key problem was the fuzzy dots of newspaper images. Brilliantly sharp and vivid photographs were reduced to an unpleasing blur. And when the photograph was something of beauty, this could become rather disappointing. Case in point, I’d like to consider Figure 1, which is an image from the United States Library of Congress’ Newspaper collection, specifically from the New York Tribune issue of February 20, 1916 – 101 years ago. The photograph is by van der Weyde and shows New York’s Madison Square Park and the Flatiron Building. Here, at least, the goal was to capture the fogginess of the stormy moment, and the image is charming. You can feel the resistance of the wind as the lady makes her way across the park and, when you can empathize with someone in a photograph, you know that something great has been accomplished. The trash bin is a bit of an enigma or incongruity. And of course, we have the Flat Iron Building itself in the background, this made photographically famous twelve years before by Edward Steichen’s iconic 1904 photograph “The Flatiron Building at Night.”  It is a stunning photograph and you wish it was clearer and less blemished.

The development of communication media has been and continues to be an unstoppable march towards broader dissemination and greater sharpness and fidelity. The long period of fuzziness in newspaper photographs, a process that continues to exist even today, is but a strop along the way. More pixels, greater dynamic range, and vivid color are where we are inexorably marching to. But this does not necessarily equate with greater vision on the part of the photographer or greater perception on the part of the viewer. We have so many images that photographs are expected and no longer precious commodities. They have become cheapened by familiarity. So on this particular morning, I prefer to walk with the lady with the hat and umbrella along an imagined winter walk in Madison Park. The image is fuzzy and the memory all the more so.