Lux Borealis

Wilcox Lake Wild Forest, Adirondacks, NY
RP12208_9_1012.

The snowfalls of the last couple of the last couple of days coated everything, here in the forest along Stony Creek. Damnably cold, the forecast was to get colder with high winds. But late into the morning, the snowshoe effort held off the temperatures and the forest was still and muffled under the great pine canopy. The blow started on the way back, high above in the treetops, though here at ground level I felt none of it. As the gusts grew stronger, the branches gave up their snow cover, and it showered down through the canopy in fine sheets. The falling snow mist, in turn, defined the sunlight, splintered by branches high above me and piercing the snow fog like the beam of a searchlight. It was at this place that my companion stopped to add a layer, and here the light was coming straight through the woods instead of ahead of us on the trail. I set up with a jagged, lightning-hit tree blocking out most of the orb of the sun,and started shooting series everytime the gusts sent the snow flying. He quickly got moving, but God Rays are not to be taken lightly, and I stayed as long as I could stand it, fingers reaching pain level and remote cord threatening to snap in half. Though I've experienced these type of scenes in the fog (in appreciably warmer seasons), I counted my blessings of witnessing a similar phenomenon with snow.

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Filename: Lux Borealis_RP12208_9_1012.jpg
Image Size: 1200x798 / 961.9KB; Wilcox Lake Wild Forest wildernes Adirondacks ADK Adirondack Mountains winter b+w black & white forest snow Ray Palmer Ray Palmer Photography landscape
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Wilcox Lake Wild Forest, Adirondacks, NY<br />
RP12208_9_1012.<br />
<br />
The snowfalls of the last couple of the last couple of days coated everything, here in the forest along Stony Creek. Damnably cold, the forecast was to get colder with high winds. But late into the morning, the snowshoe effort held off the temperatures and the forest was still and muffled under the great pine canopy. The blow started on the way back, high above in the treetops, though here at ground level I felt none of it. As the gusts grew stronger, the branches gave up their snow cover, and it showered down through the canopy in fine sheets. The falling snow mist, in turn, defined the sunlight, splintered by branches high above me and piercing the snow fog like the beam of a searchlight. It was at this place that my companion stopped to add a layer, and here the light was coming straight through the woods instead of ahead of us on the trail. I set up with a jagged, lightning-hit tree blocking out most of the orb of the sun,and started shooting series everytime the gusts sent the snow flying. He quickly got moving, but God Rays are not to be taken lightly, and I stayed as long as I could stand it, fingers reaching pain level and remote cord threatening to snap in half. Though I've experienced these type of scenes in the fog (in appreciably warmer seasons), I counted my blessings of witnessing a similar phenomenon with snow.