A cafe in hand
A chair beckons
A mountainous view
Off to the east
Darkening in the coming
Of the night
A refreshing cool breeze
Dispersing the day’s heat
The parrots have returned
To where ever they roost
The white plumed garza
Long since gone
The sky dark and threatening
Clouds a somber grey
A beam of light
Emerging from the clouds
To cast a golden ray
In a moment of glory
Over a rounded hill
As the clouds roll on
The light slowly fades
Darkness descends once again
While I sip my cafe
I am a student
Of Mother Earth
Of Mother Nature
I have opened my soul
I listen with my ears
I view with my eyes
I smell with my nostrils
To all that is offered
By the wilderness
That we live in
From the grandeur scenes
In the far distance
To The beauty at hand
The singing of birds
The mating sound of frogs
The call of the predator
The smell of the woods
The sound of running water
The murmuring of the wind
In the leafy canopies
Mother Nature has much to offer
If only we notice
A long uphill slope
The sky in turmoil
Darken clouds rolling on
A touch of color
From the evening sun
The north wind blowing
Over the parched land
A wee tree swaying
Before the surging wind
Standing desolate and forlorn
A clump of grass
Knee high in height
Parched and dry
Moving to and fro
Before the billowing wind
A golden evening hue
From a beam of sunlight
Intensifies the glowing grass
The sky continues to darken
The clouds streaming on
As the sun lowers
Standing on a hill
The vastness of the land
Spreads before me
My lodging but a dot
On the large scale of things
A beam of light
From the setting sun
Caresses the sun burnt hills
I stand in awe
With the hills unfolding
Before my squinting eyes
The feel of the breeze
Freshening on my face
A cool welcome from
The heat of the day
A common experience
In the mountainous country
Far in the distance
On an open hillside
Movement can be spotted
It is the ganado cresting
A brown splotched rise
Herded home by trailing young boys
Mere dots in the fading light
It is also a sign
That I too must leave
To follow the winding trail
Down the sloping hill
Before darkness engulfs me
The trail takes a diagonal
Through a field of maize
The stalks standing forlorn
In the evening half light
A fence line appears ahead
The trail running parallel
The descent is quick
An adobe home appears
Soon lost in the dimness
The Rio Trentino materializes
Hopping from rock to rock
The shallow river is crossed
The road beckons ahead
A patch of red roof
Appears in the near distance
Nestled on a sloping hill
A place to rest
Ones weary legs
A whimsical isle offshore
Evergreens crowd the center
Struggling to maintain hold
Among the worn rocks
The trees are dwarfed
With inadequacy of food
Time and time again
The ravages of Lake Superior
Overwhelm the tiny island
After each bout of ferocity
The little trees still stand
A testament of strength
To withstand the brutality
Of the unforgiving waters
With a lowering sun
The water is calm
A rare moment it is
The trees stand bold
In the evening solitude
White clouds flirting
Across the blue sky
Reflecting upon the water
The horizon turning pink
From the sun’s glow
The shadows are creeping
Over the reposing land
Darkness has now descended
The isle mere silhouette
Upon the placid waters
The sky is clearing
The stars luminous in the night sky
The moon casts a silver glow
Over the diminutive isle
There is a sense
Of quietude and peace
Along the rugged shoreline
Off in the distant
The mountains stand tall
In the converging mist
The morning air cool
The sun not yet appeared
Dark shadows cover the highlands
It is the season to be dry
The Rio Trentino meanders
Through the lower valley
Arching boughs over the water
Of a near dry river bed
Mist rises from the river
To mingle with the smoke
Of the breakfast fires
From the brick and mud chozas
The sky becomes enlightened
The mountains and highlands
Ghostly in the moving mist
Open fields cover the hillsides
In shades of green and brown
Ganado appear on the exposed hills
Flights of Garza wing overhead
Gleaming snow white in the mist
To land among the Ganado
Feeding on stirred up insects
As the Ganado graze
The air is alive
With flights of parrots
Flocking to the soybean fields
For their morning feed
The air is warming
The sun rays filtering
Through the shadowy mist
To enlighten the highlands
With bands of light
Black Vultures take to the skies
To catch the air thermos
Warming in the morning air
Gliding high above the land
Searching for carrion
The throaty haunting cries
Of the Congo monkeys
Echoes upon the mountains
As they feed upon fruit and leaves
High in the tree branches
Along the Rio Trentino River
The mist is thinning
A sun lit El Chile emerges
From the swirling mist
Regal and graceful behind
The rolling sunlit hills
Billowing white clouds appear
A golden glow enshrines
The rugged mountain scene
A momentary spectacle
That is soon lost
The wind is increasing
Blowing from the north
A haze now appears
With the mist frittering away
Leaving a hazy scene
As the morning advances
I lay down to slumber
Soon fast asleep
I drift off in dreams
Of an ancient forest
Nestled among rolling hills
The sunlit glades beckon
In the near distance
The sound of running water
Gurgling and bubbling
Of a small stream
Following its winding path
Through the old growth forest
Stepping stones allow passage
Through the shallow waters
Pools form at the stream bends
White lilies nod gracefully
In the quiet pools
The forest floor abounds
In splashes of color
Of the blooming wildflowers
A swallow tail butterfly
Alights on a flower
Moving on to another
The gentle beauty of lush ferns
Among the stately maples
Add a royal touch
Song birds flirt and dash
Among the changing shadows
The stirring of the leaves
By the gentle breeze
Brings a refreshing feeling
As the dream ends
Having awaken from slumber
I have the opportunity to Photograph mountain scenes in Nicaragua. We are completely surrounded by these mountains. I captured this scene above by using the clouds and the slope of the mountain. The individual trees emphasize the tremendous distance and size of these mountain slopes.
I do not have much time to get into any great deal as I am sitting in an internet cafe. So until next time happy trails from Nicaragua.
Last August I spent an evening at the Agawa Pictographs photographing. It was one of those evenings that were a bit on the dark side with heavy cloud cover. Off on the horizon sunlight filtered through the clouds. There was heavy fog rolling in that appeared as a land mass. The fog gave the appearance of rolling hills coming down to the shoreline. Thus I created the above composition to create the illusion you see. The colors are very sombre to give it a truly eerie effect.
That is it for now. So until next time happy trails
Old Women’s Bay was made famous by Bill Mason. It was his jump off point for many of his canoe trips on Lake Superior. My wife Maureen and I have made many stops here to enjoy the scenery. If you look closely you can make out the old women’s face. There is a nice evening glow on the rocks. You drive down a fairly steep hill towards the bay coming from the north. I set up on the side of the highway for this particular composition.
In order to make this work, I elected to use the evergreens cascading down the hill on either side of the road as my frame. By keeping them dark to enhance the brighter tones of the rocks. At the same time eliminating some of the water.
I am in Nicaragua at the moment enjoying the warm weather. So until next time happy trails.
Ken Bennison's Photography 