Monday, January 9, 2017

The Icing on the Trees

My pal Arnie is always in the mood to go for a hike in a forest when I call him, in most any kind of weather or temperature. A few days ago, we headed out in frigid conditions to further explore an old growth forest tract in a mountainous region of Western Massachusetts.

There was snow on the ground, but not particularly deep. We were expecting that. What we weren't expecting, but were delighted to see, was a frosty white coating of ice on entire distant mountainsides along the route to our woods. A few more miles down the road and we were now driving through a crystal forest. The heavens overhead were azure blue. The sun was putting silvery white sparks of life into the thick ice overcoats encasing every tree twig in sight. This is probably the finest glamor show that winter ever puts on. We had no choice but to stop the car and do some photography. Old growth forests are high on our priority list of places to see and be, but the ancient trees weren't going anywhere and would wait a little longer for our visit. Ice crusted mountainside forests are ephemeral, you don't keep them waiting.

So here are some of the images recorded that day. They can't replace the personal experience of being there, of course. But we hear so many sensationalized "dangerous winter storm" warnings in today's media that it seems only right to celebrate and share the beauty of such events once in a while.



Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Old Growth Forest for a New Year

It's day three of a brand new year. Who knows what's in the works for us in the coming months? Looking out my window, I see that today is gray, damp, and somewhat gloomy. It occurs to me that new years probably should begin on a sunny, breezy, greened-up kind of early spring day, not a day like this. I find myself longing to be in a verdant, old growth forest. Even though I've lately been exploring a 200-year-plus stand of hemlocks and hardwoods, those several outings were bright white with snow. Thoroughly enjoyable, yet missing so much.

I craved a tonic, like a steamy drink on a bitter cold day. Something to bring me back to the lush, leafy forests that flood my senses with a pleasing wavelength of green light, scented air, and the renewing rush of mountain streams. I knew what that would be: a meander through the photos of those places. So that's what this is, a visual essay in green. I hope it does for you what it's doing for me. All the scenes are from aged forests of Western Massachusetts.