Exploring the wonders of creation through a 50mm lens...and other lenses too.

There are certain immutable, unchangeable, perpetual signs of spring that come around each year regardless of whatever natural circumstances might befall our front yard. Henbit will always cast its purple pass over the brown buffalo grass, thunderstorms will always roll and echo across the plains, and these little yellow crocuses or, as I like to say however outdated and deprecated the plural may be, croci, will burst forth in the alcove between our garage and the east wall of our house. The delicate yellow flowers appear as though on cue, spread their petals during the day, close up tight at night, and then return to the ground after less than a week to remain in hiding until another year passes. It’s natural clockwork, and a fun reminder that winter will certainly end and the cold will too yet pass, and a harbinger of mild days and long evenings soon to come.

The thing is, each year when these little flowers show up I’m just not quite sure what to do with them–photographically speaking, anyway. I always think they will be cool photo opportunities, but when I bust out my camera and get down on the ground and take a few shots, the results never quite look like how I want them to look. I find that it’s often helpful to envision some kind of end result when taking photos and then basically work backwards from there: what do I need to do with my exposure settings, choice of focal lengths, etc., in order to make that happen? Those thoughts usually drive the process and, hopefully, lead to some kind of pleasing end result. With the croci (crocuses?) both the journey and the destination are always a bit of a muddle. That said, I still do enjoy the process and even the end result even if I don’t quite know what I have in mind or what I’m actually doing.

I normally post photos in the order that they were taken. If I take a picture at 2:30pm and then another one at 2:35pm, my usual course of action is to post the first one first, and the second one second. Sometimes it’s just easier to do it that way since it makes logical sense in my mind, but there’s also the educational angle I like to consider too: the latter image will often be informed by something I learned when composing the former image. And while that progression is certainly the case when looking at this week’s image next to last week’s image, I ended up posting them out of order just because I really liked the second one more than the first. And because it’s my blog, I figure…why not :)

Side note in case you’re wondering: These are not mushrooms, nor is there a gorge anywhere nearby. Rather, they remind me of a particularly memorable course from Mario Kart Wii. Not a particularly awesome course, but one that sticks in my mind due to the way it sends all the racers bouncing atop giant mushrooms sticking far into the air. Also, my oldest son wanted me to mention that there is, and I quote, “an insane wall-clipping glitch” on that level that he and his brother invented.

In a lot of ways this is the photo that could have been. It’s a good start, but I think if I could do it differently I would have changed a few things to get a better end result. Overall the composition is fine, but there are two main factors that make this about a C+ or B- instead of a solid A. The first is the focus: At f/9.5 the depth of field is fine, but a smaller aperture would have yielded a much sharper subject while still, I’m pretty sure, giving plenty of blur to the background. Even after more than a year I still don’t quite have a good sense of how apertures work when shooting at very close range on my macro lens, and I almost always end up taking pictures at wider apertures than I really need to. In this case, had I shot at f/16 or f/22 I think I would have gotten a much better result without much in the way of compromise.

The other factor that hinders this image is the exposure. I should have underexposed it slightly and then adjusted in Lightroom, but as it stands the subject is a bit too overexposed and there’s nothing I could do to get it under control. Despite shooting in RAW and having access to all the data captured by the camera sensor, there aren’t really any viable options when there is no data to use at all–which is exactly what you see in the blown-out highlights.

So what do I like about this photos? For one, I think the huge circle of sun blur right behind the subject is pretty awesome. I don’t think I could have planned that better even if I had tried, and it’s something that I am probably not likely to replicate any time soon. I also like the subject in the center paired with another one of these plant-thingeys off to the side and behind it. It lends a sense of three-dimensional space that I think is really cool. Also, I like that my wife said she likes this picture, and at the end of the day I trust her judgement much more than my own :D

Photography is all about capturing light. In fact, the word photography literally means drawing with light. One of the always-challenging but ever-rewarding aspects of learning photography over the years has been refining my ability to see the light in a given scene: where is it coming from? Where is it, like Unicron or Cotton-Eyed Joe, going? Where is the subject in relation to the light? What will happen if I reposition myself, or the light, to change the mood and composition of the image? So many things to think about and, often, so little time during which to think about them. At least that was the case with this week’s photo, anyway. I shot this while out hiking with my family at Lake Carl Blackwell, and while walking down the path I came across this scene:

It wasn’t much to look at, and I nearly just kept on going without giving this dried-up plant any consideration whatsoever. Then I thought about the light and what effect it was having on this subject, and paused to consider this rather unremarkable scene from a photographer’s perspective. From one angle, such as the iPhone shot you see directly above, there was nothing interesting going on whatsoever. But from another angle, with the subject backlit, the entire scene was transformed into something else entirely. No longer a small collection of dry, dusty flora: instead the image came alive with bright highlights around the edges, rich color gradations, and a beautifully-blurred background. I had my Nikon D500 and 105mm f/2.8 macro lens with me, but rather than trying to get as close as possible to this plant I instead just attempted to create an interesting composition regardless of how close or far away I was. What I got is what you see here, albeit with a slight crop in Lightroom in order to remove some empty space on the left. I shot this at f/8 but also took some at smaller apertures and, once again, I was reminded by my macro lens how rarely I really need to shoot with a wide aperture. Even at f/8 the center is tack-sharp while the leaves (or whatever you call them) just to the right and to the left are ever so slightly blurry, which lends a sense of depth to the scene that is, as Goldilocks might say, just right.

Before I really dive into this week’s picture, I just want to take a minute and thank everyone who has been a part of Weekly Fifty over the years. This post marks ten years of this blog–slightly more, in fact, because the first post was on March 5, 2013. In the months and weeks leading up to today’s picture I thought about ways to comemmorate the occasion: a look back at my favorite shots, a highlight video of my best audio descriptions, a Buzzfeed-style list like the Top Five Things I Learned About Photography…you get the idea. In the end I decided to not really do anything except this writeup that you are reading now (or listening to, as the case may be) and just sort of continue with business as usual. I think it’s good to mark and take note of occasions like this, but sometimes I feel like the best thing to do is just keep the status quo going. I certainly have learned a great deal, and taken many shots I’m proud of, and gotten to meet so many encouraging, helpful, curious, and just plain nice people over the years (Special thanks to D. Welker, who follows me on my YouTube Channel, for sending me a 2023 calendar of his amazing pictures of Utah) and largely it’s that community that keeps me going. Your comments, questions, words of encouragement, and helpful tips over the past decade have been downright inspiring and I don’t think I can adequately express just how much I have appreciated all your input and support. Weekly Fifty wouldn’t be the same without you, and I’m so glad to have you along for the journey.

With that being said, I do want to, you know, talk about this week’s photo since that’s kind of the whole point of the blog :) I have tried shots like this from time to time, occasionally with my close-up filters and sometimes with a normal lens but cropped way in, and they have never quite worked out how I hoped. With the former I could never seem to quite get my shot composed properly, or focused right, or just…looking good. With the latter, well, cropping is fine but it’s not a great substitute for a true close-up lens. But when you have a macro lens…*chef’s kiss*

I took this photo while my family and I were out hiking at Lake Carl Blackwell. I brought my D500 and 105mm f/2.8 Macro lens (The former in case I needed to fire off lots of picture of wildlife in rapid succession, the latter in case I saw any opportunities for close-up shots) and while I never did encounter any fauna worth photographing, I did stumble upon a couple of opportunities for shots of static subjects such as the one you see here. We were rounding a bend in the path: water to the north, open fields to the south, and a thicket of brambles on our left that reminded me of one of the most difficult levels of Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest. A level that, to this day, has one of the most mesmerizing soundtracks I have ever heard in a video game.

I thought it would be fun to try to take a close-up picture of one of the thorns, particularly with of its deep red color paired to a beautiful backlight as the sun crept downward. I asked my oldest son to hold one of the branches steady while I lined up a shot, and while I fidgeted with aperture values he told me about some boss battle strategies he has been using in Breath of the Wild. (Side note for parents: video games make for outstanding conversation topics. Just show a bit of interest, ask some questions, and your kids will happily share all day long. It’s great.) I angled my field of view just a bit to get some foreground and background blur on the branch, and thus direct the viewer’s attention directly to the prickly spire in the middle. I did have to crop the picture just a bit to get the result you see here, but I think it turned out about as well as I could have hoped and, as is often the case, this picture does give me some ideas of things to try next time :)

And with that, I just want to thank you again, dear readers (and listeners), for being part of Weekly Fifty for what I can now accurately say describe as more than a decade. When I look back to my early shots and think about how much I have learned in the past ten years, it makes me extraordinarily optimistic for what lies ahead. In some ways I feel like I have only just begun to learn about photography, and I’m glad to have you along for the ride :)

Fro about the past three years my wife and I have enjoyed going on hikes with our kids at Lake Carl Blackwell just west of town. At some point in the early months of the Covid-19 pandemic we discovered the many equestrian trails that snake around the countryside close to the shore out there, and have made hiking them a weekend afternoon staple ever since. We like to head out there in the winter months since it’s much nicer to layer up and then unzip jackets as the day warms up than it is to drench our clothes in sweat in the 100-degree summer afternoons, but one tradeoff of hiking in January is that photo opportunities are a bit more tricky to discover. Not that they don’t exist, mind you, but it’s not as easy to make interesting images when the scenery all around you is mostly browns and grays. It just means you have to look a bit harder sometimes :)

This little moss tuffet was just to the side of the path about an hour into our hike, and initially I just sort of noted it in my mind and walked on by. After quick consideration I grabbed my camera, hollered to my wife and our kids that I would catch up with them in a minute, and knelt down to see if this bit of greenery would make an interesting photo subject. What caught my eye wasn’t the color but the lighting: the angle of the sun lent an almost otherworldly glow to the green velvet texture, and I thought it might be cool to catch it in a picture. I only spent about 15 seconds composing, and taking, this shot so the results aren’t as perfect as I would have preferred, but I’m pretty pleased with it nonetheless. Unlike most of my macro photos I used my Nikon D500 here, since the APS-C sensor essentially multiplies the focal length of any attached lens by 1.5. (I know it doesn’t literally do that…) That’s a good thing for wildlife pictures which is why I had it on the hike, but in general I just like the look of my full-frame D750 when shooting macro. I used Live View which is a bit snappier on my D500 compared to my D750, and took a couple initial images at f/4 thinking that it would give me a good balance between sharp subject and blurry background. Then just for good measure I dialed in an f/8 aperture and took one or two more photos, and tossed my camera back in my bag and ran to catch up with my family.

Turns out the last picture I shot, out of roughly one dozen, was the only one that worked. All the rest were focused either a bit too close or a bit too far, and this one struck an ideal balance that I don’t think I could have done better if I had tried. I was really happy with how the shot came out, especially with the top of the tuft kind of glowing green, and I also liked that I didn’t have to spend too much time on it either. And if you squint really closely, this image kind of looks like the top of a green gnome’s head, sticking out of the ground as if to get the lay of the land before going back into hiding for a little while.