Iterations

Iterations
There are several rivers in the Adirondacks named Salmon. This iteration comes out of Salmon Pond, quietly wandering its way through the lowlands of the Blue Mountain Wild Forest, where it intersected my wanderings in the greater Adirondack Park. Daylight was on the downward swing across the sky, the shadows already turning chilly. The river is reflective, spilling the warmer colors in the open meadow upstream, and the colder blues where the sun can’t penetrate the crowded forest, pressing ever in for water. For 30 years, my obsession in life was music. Music, in its patterns and structures, is redundancy, with nuance. We do what we must to do the things we like. So it follows that I see my existence as compartments of repetition. Work, food, sleep, play, all in continuous performances…. some good, some bad, with nuances. Even photography doesn’t totally break that mold. I have seen this type of scene repeat in other locations, north of here in the Paul Smith’s area, south near Raquette Lake, in the lowlands of Pharoah and Lake George...each is similar: dark, smooth waters, essing through the forest of a glaciated plain. The differences are nuance, subtleties of geography, illusions of seasons. Today’s is in the warm light of a late winter afternoon. I often return. We are creatures of habit after all, and if I go back to the same places I’ve been before...forgive me for repeating myself.

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Filename: Iterations
Image Size: 2048x1367 / 2.9MB; Adirondacks NY New York Adirondack Park winter snow river forest Salmon River Blue Mountain Wild Forest raypalmerphotography.com
Contained in galleries: Adirondacks

Iterations<br />
There are several rivers in the Adirondacks named Salmon. This iteration comes out of Salmon Pond, quietly wandering its way through the lowlands of the Blue Mountain Wild Forest, where it intersected my wanderings in the greater Adirondack Park. Daylight was on the downward swing across the sky, the shadows already turning chilly. The river is reflective, spilling the warmer colors in the open meadow upstream, and the colder blues where the sun can’t penetrate the crowded forest, pressing ever in for water. For 30 years, my obsession in life was music. Music, in its patterns and structures, is redundancy, with nuance. We do what we must to do the things we like. So it follows that I see my existence as compartments of repetition. Work, food, sleep, play, all in continuous performances…. some good, some bad, with nuances. Even photography doesn’t totally break that mold. I have seen this type of scene repeat in other locations, north of here in the Paul Smith’s area, south near Raquette Lake, in the lowlands of Pharoah and Lake George...each is similar: dark, smooth waters, essing through the forest of a glaciated plain. The differences are nuance, subtleties of geography, illusions of seasons. Today’s is in the warm light of a late winter afternoon. I often return. We are creatures of habit after all, and if I go back to the same places I’ve been before...forgive me for repeating myself.