My Red Maple

Red Maple III

My Red Maple © 2011 Bo Mackison

If you would ask me what my favorite thing about my home, I would ask do you mean inside my home or outside?

No matter, my answer is similar. The favorite part of the inside of my home are the windows that overlook my backyard – one in my studio, one in my kitchen, one in my family room – and from which I have a perfect view of my red maple tree. And the favorite thing that is outside my home? Yes, that same gorgeous red maple tree.

Red, Red, Red

Red, Red, Red © 2011 Bo Mackison

This is the red maple tree Sherpa and I planted 5 years ago on our 30th wedding anniversary. The maple tree that was eight feet tall and two inches in diameter when we planted it, and is now taller than our two-story house. I don’t have an exact figure on the diameter, but it is at least nine inches at the base.

My red maple leaves slowly change from green to red, beginning at its crown, and slowly creeping down until the entire tree is one huge crimson-red glow. My favorite time of day to watch the maple is about thirty minutes after sunrise–the tree’s bright red leaves shimmer and flicker in the sunlight.

The tree is often at its peak color for a couple of weeks every October. I thought the prediction for rain and colder temperatures for the last few days would have an effect on the tree, but the tree is still holding most of its leaves. That makes me happy. Yep, I guess that makes me one happy tree hugger!

Growing Maple

Growth © 2011 Bo Mackison

Our maple tree has grown so fast, it truly outgrew its trunk. The trunk split all around to accommodate its increase in size. Some longitudinal splits are caused by rapid fluctuations in temperatures which cause a tree like the thin-barked maples to thaw and then freeze repeatedly. My red maple has these cracks but they heal over and have not caused damage to the tree.

This is one of the benefits of Wisconsin living — greetings from my red maple when it is dresses in its autumn red!

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She falls in love every autumn — with the red maple tree in her backyard!

Devil’s Lake State Park in Autumn

Autumn in Devil's Lake State Park

Autumn in Devil’s Lake State Park © 2011 Bo Mackison

Perhaps you have noticed that even in the very lightest breeze you can hear the voice of the trees; this we understand is its prayer to the Great Spirit, for not only men, but all things and all beings pray to Him continually in different ways.  ~ Black Elk

Anyone who lives near Devil’s Lake State Park in south-central Wisconsin and has even a passing interest in nature makes time in their schedules for a ride through this iconic park in autumn. It never fails to please.

The entrance speaks of a grandeur from a different era–huge stone pillars designed and constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in the 1930s–welcome everyone to the beauty inside the park. Even the South Shore Road winds through hardwood forests on its way to the glacial lake, the park’s namesake. Yellows and oranges are the predominant colors, but flashes of sunlight make it an otherworldly, shadowy experience.

I’ve walked through these woods–part of the Ice Age Scenic Trail–for many decades. Before I moved to Wisconsin, my family took many vacation trips to Devil’s Lake, an easy trip from Illinois. And in the last four decades, I’ve spent hundreds of days exploring the woods, cliffs, piles of boulders, the lake and its beaches.

A wonderful place for an explore of any kind.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. One of her goals is to visit and photograph every state park in Wisconsin. She is at #14.

October Day

Owen Park

October Day in Owen Park © 2011 Bo Mackison

Nature is a mirror held to our view so we can see the ongoing process of growth, renewal and transformation in our lives.  ~ Mary Ann Brussat

What a show nature put on yesterday. I headed out for a 30 minute walk in Owen Conservation Park on Madison’s far west side, and ended up lingering on the paths for nearly three hours. (Totally tossed my to do list under the desk when I got home!)

Although I usually get questioning looks from hikers, baby back-packed parents, and some of the photographers I meet on the paths, I’ve finally learned that their curiosity and uncertainty about my photo methods have nothing to do with me. It is probably not something they would choose to do, and that’s fine.

When I choose to lie in a thicket of low-growing sumac to see what the view looks like, I do it to satisfy my curiosity, to expand my vision. Often I choose to stay on the ground for a while, not always taking photos, often just taking in the space.

I like to ask myself a question or two. What can I see in a space one square foot? One cubic foot?

Then I look and answer. This can take a surprisingly long time.

People stop and ask what I am looking at. In this friendly Midwestern city, lots of park visitors start lengthy conversations with me, as if we were good friends chatting in a comfy coffee shop. I’ve learned to answer the questions, but not stop shooting. Or looking, if I am at the looking stage. And since I am typically sprawled on the earth, in an awkward position, I don’t get up to talk. It is much too difficult on my reluctant body–those frequent ups and downs–to add unnecessary round trips.

Anyway, my answers are patently uninteresting, though honest.

“What are you looking at?”
“Red leaves, mostly.”
“Is there an animal in there?”
“No. Mostly leaves.”

Photographers who understand why I’m on my back on a bed of damp oak leaves, and why I have barely moved for the last twenty minutes, they don’t ask. They just nod and smile. Maybe they are looking for their own pile of damp leaves. Or maybe not. There are many kinds of photographers and no one way to photograph any subject is ever the only right way. Hopefully most of us shoot what is important to us as individuals, what provides inspiration, what makes us smile, laugh out loud, murmur “Oh, wow!” a dozen times an hour. Some of us even find a bit of soul nourishment while we click our shutters and study our spaces.

The above photograph was not taken lying on the earth. It’s a simple composition showing off Wisconsin’s autumn season, a view to the north, taken near Owen Park’s ponds. With those clouds as a backdrop, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share this landscape. But I’ll be posting a few of the “Shooting From A Bed of Mucky Leaves” soon.

Enjoy the weekend. Have a look around, a real look. Maybe even choose a tiny piece of the earth, 12 inches square, and give that a close look.

What do you see?

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Yesterday she spent half the workday outside in the brisk autumn air, so today she has to do yesterday’s and today’s computer work. And the sun is shining! Bummer!

Touching the Sky

geese

Geese © 2011 Bo Mackison

Only from the heart can you touch the sky.  ~ Rumi

I had the most remarkable and rewarding day yesterday. I spent much of the day outdoors, studying and working in the natural world.

The day was sunny and the skies were a deeper blue than usual. There were two things that I repeatedly noticed throughout the day. First, the brilliant red maple in my backyard glowed like fire — yes, really, like fire — as the sunlight flickered throughout its deep oranges and reds. The maple is at its peak in color and I was aware that its fiery beauty would be fleeting, that the forecast for the rest of the week called for cloudy skies and rain. Yesterday was my day to pay attention to the red maple.

The other frequent visitors to my day were the wild Canada geese that flew over the house, oftentimes nearly skimming the tops of the trees.

I spent my day studying first the maple, deeply rooted, grounded, preparing for winter by slowing its metabolism, getting ready to drop its leaves, but that at the present moment it was in the height of its autumn beauty. Second, I watched the wild geese, preparing not to slow down for the winter, but instead instinctively working hard, readying themselves for a long flight south.

They were quite opposite in their approach to the coming colder weather, but both were still significant reminders of autumn.

While many people regard geese as nuisances, noisy and messy, their beauty in flight always thrills me, makes me stop and admire their grace, strength, and sense of community in formation. The geese remind me of the preparation required for the undertaking of a long journey, how they show perseverance to begin their journey, to reach their goal.

Yesterday was a good day for reflection on the present and for awakening the preparer in me. Not only are the geese going south for the winter, but I am also returning south for a part of the winter.

The geese, now in a perpetual state of preparation, remind me that I, too, must finish my work here so that I can prepare for my travels.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She has much to plan and prepare for — two art shows in mid-November, followed by a few weeks of travel in the Southwest, and perhaps a bit of adventure, too.

 

Crabapples – A Tree with Many Gifts

Crabapples

 The Fruits of a Crabapple  © 2011 Bo Mackison

Crabapple trees are among my favorite to photograph, as many of the cultivars are visually interesting in all seasons.

Spring brings trees covered with tiny flower buds that open into photogenic flowers with great visual impact. Walking in an arboretum or driving down a city street, it is not unusual to see trees in white or various pink shades. In spring, crabapple trees look like bouquets of densely packed blossoms. Summer crabapples provide greenery and are favorite hiding places for a variety of birds.

In autumn, many of the trees have leaves that turn brilliant colors ranging from yellows to oranges to orange-reds. The trees bear fruits which also vary in color depending on the cultivar type. Fruits range from yellow-greens to yellows, oranges, purples, and as seen in the photo, a bright cherry red. In winter the delicate shape of the tree is a photographic delight, especially when the trees do not drop their fruits.

A crabapple is only a crabapple if its fruit is less than two inches in circumference.

If larger, then they are apples. And yes, a crabapple is edible, though you might not like its taste in its natural state. Even birds that supplement their diet with these fruits often wait until late winter when there is little else available in the wild.

But edibility is not much of a consideration to a photographer. I love the deep reds of the fruits, how they asymmetrically hang from the branches, how they glow in the late autumn sun.

The difficulty appears when there are so many fruit laden branches in a single tree, and I spend much time studying and looking deeply at a one tree. Come to think of it, that’s really not a difficulty at all, but a gift to practice deep seeing, a gift in mindfulness.

The crabapple — a tree with many gifts. One only has to look, and see.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer, owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She is deeply seeing as she studies the changing of the seasons.