The snow just keeps coming. It arrives in short, overnight squalls or day-long blasts which cover everything over again and again. Wind builds up and speeds across the open fields, picking up the fresh, loose snow and tossing it into waist-deep drifts. The deer struggle to find places to walk; the rabbits repeatedly dig out the entrances to their burrows.
Throughout all this, the trees seem almost unaffected. Without their summer coat of leaves, the deciduous trees are less susceptible to wind damage, although the occasional ice storm can leave branches drooping beyond their weight-bearing capacity. Perhaps more interesting, especially in a northern forest, are the conifers—softwoods that retain their greenery throughout the long winter. It’s almost as if conifers don’t care what season it is. It’s as if they just ignore the weather and proceed as usual, shrugging, as it were, against the wind and the snow settling on their branches. Conifers in the winter are intriguing trees, and they make fine winter photography subjects.
On one of these wintery afternoons, I grab a camera and take off into the falling snow. I’m unsure what I’m searching for, exactly, but my vague goal is to study the conifers in particular. I protect the camera and lens with a sturdy weather-proof camera hood designed just for that purpose. The hood ensures that the camera stays dry, but it makes the whole rig a little cumbersome to use. This combined with the use of a tripod for the video shots means that I have to work slowly indeed, but in a strange way this can actually make you a more careful photographer. I’m hardly the first one to notice this.
The snow is falling pretty hard—with the wind driving it to the side. The wind makes the heavy pine branches sway slightly, and it’s an interesting motion. In the end, I use the video feature of my camera to set up a series of “still life” images—even though there is actually quite a bit of motion in them. Between the movements of the pine branches and the driving snow crossing the frame, these “still lifes” are hardly still at all—and yet that’s essentially what they are. It’s an interesting paradox.
I ended up with several shots that I was happy with. In fact, I shot so much video that I didn’t even shoot any still photos—a rare event for me!
The snow just keeps coming. It arrives in short, overnight squalls or day-long blasts which cover everything over again and again. Wind builds up and speeds across the open fields, picking up the fresh, loose snow and tossing it into waist-deep drifts. The deer struggle to find places to walk; the rabbits repeatedly dig out the entrances to their burrows.
Throughout all this, the trees seem almost unaffected. Without their summer coat of leaves, the deciduous trees are less susceptible to wind damage, although the occasional ice storm can leave branches drooping beyond their weight-bearing capacity. Perhaps more interesting, especially in a northern forest, are the conifers—softwoods that retain their greenery throughout the long winter. It’s almost as if conifers don’t care what season it is. It’s as if they just ignore the weather and proceed as usual, shrugging, as it were, against the wind and the snow settling on their branches. Conifers in the winter are intriguing trees, and they make fine winter photography subjects.
On one of these wintery afternoons, I grab a camera and take off into the falling snow. I’m unsure what I’m searching for, exactly, but my vague goal is to study the conifers in particular. I protect the camera and lens with a sturdy weather-proof camera hood designed just for that purpose. The hood ensures that the camera stays dry, but it makes the whole rig a little cumbersome to use. This combined with the use of a tripod for the video shots means that I have to work slowly indeed, but in a strange way this can actually make you a more careful photographer. I’m hardly the first one to notice this.
The snow is falling pretty hard—with the wind driving it to the side. The wind makes the heavy pine branches sway slightly, and it’s an interesting motion. In the end, I use the video feature of my camera to set up a series of “still life” images—even though there is actually quite a bit of motion in them. Between the movements of the pine branches and the driving snow crossing the frame, these “still lifes” are hardly still at all—and yet that’s essentially what they are. It’s an interesting paradox.
I ended up with several shots that I was happy with. In fact, I shot so much video that I didn’t even shoot any still photos—a rare event for me!