Burning Cathedral of the Summer

“I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer.” – Violette Leduc

“I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer.” – Violette Leduc

The summer light is changing here in late July. The sun is rising a little later, the light is a little more golden, and the mists are gathering in the low spots.
It’s been a weirdly cool summer. A few hot days, but mostly May-like temperatures.
The way the light bends around the field, through the tall grasses – it’s almost like September already.
We take the ferry out to the island at a leisurely pace, seeing shipwrecks as we travel in Lake Huron, on a bright and sunny July day.
Things are different up here. There’s no sandy beaches, and the water is a degree or two above freezing. It’s just rock and water and wood. A peninsula jutting into the Georgian Bay, surrounding by little uninhabited rocky islands.
We get to Flowerpot Island, and there are tourists everywhere on the initial beach. Well-dressed Asian ladies and children scrambling over the limestone shore, into the freezing water.
But as you go deeper along the trails, away from the “flowerpots” that named the island, things are quieter. No screaming kids, no well-dressed Asian ladies. It’s just moss and rock and cedar trees.
And little trails of mottled light that reach the forest floor.
It reminded me of one of Tolkien’s forests, full of story. The trees here aren’t nearly as old as Fangorn because their roots can’t get a good grip on the limestone rock, and so they fall. No tree here is ancient.
They are hardy, though, and they grip to life through terrible winters and stiff winds from the lake.
The sunlight reaches the forest floor in patches, highlighting a felled tree here, or a moss-grown rock there. It’s dramatic, and on parts of the island no one ever sees it.
I had a lot of fun stopping at the more lovely light patches to grab a few photos. Shadow and light – the mix was addictive after hiking along the trails, and I had to stay in the back of our group so I didn’t hold anyone up.
It was worth it. The photos have a mystique to them. Places without people often do, and that’s why we go there.

A fern soaking up the light on Flowerpot Island.
See the full series (so far). More to come!

Sneak preview of a project I’m working on involving mottled light in a dark wood.
Combine that with a re-read of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and things get weird.

The magic of winter sunsets.
Captured on the side of The Salesman building in Concord, MI.
I often tell people that I get to Chicago at least once a year.
This year? It’s more like five or six.
A fun trip. Another fun trip. A business trip. A work trip. A conference. It seems I’m heading to the Windy City, on average, every other month.
And boy, I don’t mind. Every time I head to Chicago, whether for personal trips or business, it feels like a getaway.
I’ve said it before: I feel like I know Chicago better than I do my nearby metro area. That goes mainly for the downtown areas, because once I get out of the main hub of Chicago I’m not so confident – whereas in Detroit, I know the surrounding areas fairly well.
But since taking up photography as a hobby, Chicago has been one of my favorite subjects. The people, the architecture, the city life – it’s a smorgasbord of photo opps.
For a work trip back in October, I hit the streets to specifically grab more street photos than anything else.
(Most photos taken with Canon EOS M and EF-M 22mm f/2, edited in Lightroom with VSCO Film 03)