Red Tail at Noon

For the last 12 years this Red Tailed hawk has staked claim to the 400 acres that comprise Squire Valleevue Farm in Hunting Valley, Ohio. In 2008 I first spotted him at the east end of the farm and guessed him to be immature in light of his subdued colors. When this photo was taken in the spring two years later his red tail had become prominent and his overall coloration less mottled. Each day he traces the tree line along the farm’s perimeter keeping a mostly silent vigil over the grounds. Descending onto the ridgeline of the small barn at the east end of the property, he hunts the field mice that make the structure’s foundation home.

“Saudade”

A Portuguese word that many Americans may not recognize for the simple reason it has no direct English translation. Briefly (and incompletely) saudade is a deep melancholic, emotional state of yearning for a loved one, a lost relationship or a place. What distinguishes saudade from singular emotions is its ambivalence, the dimension of melancholy and happiness at once.

This barley field in northern Michigan reminded me of similar fields in southern Spain and Portugal. The emotion it evoked for me was melancholy and the love and longing for the serene beauty of the Iberian landscape.

“Beyond”

A trip to Mentor Headlands last Wednesday afternoon yielded an unexpected gift of the landscape. The beach east of the Headlands has transformed since my last visit over twenty-five years ago. Low dunes have developed as a root system of switch grass has created a carpet for sand to collect.

Rolling, richly textured fields of switch grass bend in the wind, catching light and emotion. It reminded me of the Portuguese word “saudade”, one about which I’ve written previously and one which many Americans may not recognize. It really has no simple direct English translation. Briefly (and incompletely), saudade is a deep melancholic, emotional state of yearning for a loved one, a lost relationship, a place or even a time. What distinguishes saudade from singular emotions is its ambivalence, the dimension of melancholy and happiness at once. I think it may be the perfect word for the emotions that sweep this nation. We, many of us, long for the recent past, one that now seems distant and possibly never the same, never attainable. The lighthouse (Fairport Harbor) just over the horizon is leading us metaphorically, paradoxically, back to the light.

“Sheep in Repose”

I’ve posted one of my favorite images, “Sheep in Repose”, taken many years ago in a small Amish graveyard east of Middlefield, Ohio.  It’s a bit whimsical not only for the subjects portrayed but for my memory recalling how I had unwittingly crawled across 100 feet of sheep dung getting in position to take the shot.

“Westbound”

I can’t imagine any of you will be as excited as I was last Thursday to see this year’s return of the Great Blue Heron. He’s been a silent friend at Schweitzer Marsh for over a decade. I first encountered him in the spring of 2008 when he asserted his right of dominion over two smaller herons. It was a highly audible squabble of croaking and shrieks (gaw, gaw, gaw) that echoed across the marsh. I’ve observed him several times on summer mornings in standoffs with bald-eagles nesting nearby. Otherwise, he is a sovereign spirit, gliding silently, gracefully about, or standing in the shallows motionless for hours.

“Trumpeter Swans, Edge of Spring”

Hiking through Schweitzer Marsh a week ago I was struck by two distant (approx. 300 yards) white dots contrasted against the dark shoreline that appeared to be growing. After about a minute they had doubled in size and seemed to be swimming directly towards me. About 100 yards from the bank where I was standing I recognized the dots as a pair of swans, presumably the very common Mute Swans. I frequently see them (an invasive species from Europe) on the marsh in late March during the spring migration. As they floated closer I could see their black bills and realized these were actually Trumpeter Swans, a species that had been hunted almost to extinction by the late 30’s.  I had come across a pair in northern Michigan several years ago and was fascinated with their history, especially the fact there are still less than 500 in the Midwest. Curious about me, they continued until they were about 100 feet away at which point they stopped, each trumpeted two low notes and proceeded back from where they had come.

“Pastels, Schweitzer Marsh”

“Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty if only we have the eyes to see them.” John Ruskin

I love this quote by John Ruskin, the great Victorian critic of the arts. His compelling observation has resonated with me over the years as I’ve spent much time trying to see and photograph the intrinsic beauty of the landscape. It should come as no surprise that he was a great admirer of William (JMW) Turner, especially his luminous paintings of the sea and other natural settings.

This image, taken at sunrise in early May, reminds me of Turner’s use of color and his remarkable ability to see the sublime.