Please remember that these
photographs are free to all Humans everywhere. I include some of them
just for their value as desktop screens. Others, I include as I know
some people will have the time to actually look at pictures; without
having to do something else, like mandatory listening to liars on the
medias (etc). Some people actually have their own Privacy these days
-- now that Human Resistance has made them free of lice and ticks and
perverts.
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Click on the pictures to get the bigger sizes.
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It has been a very busy
time for me since the beginning of the year, and I have not had many
chances to get out and photograph Iowa as I would have liked to.
Also, the weather and the temperature zone are colder up here in
Iowa, as opposed to Kentucky and Southern Illinois where I am usually
working. When I would return to Iowa, ready to take pictures, it
would either be raining or there would be nothing green to take
pictures of.
Perhaps that is for the
best, because when I finally did get a chance to take pictures --
they turn out to be good to semi-spectacular.
*************************
Looking south.
This photo spread was
taken over four separate days in April and May, and begins with a
reference shot from last November. This was taken in my neighborhood.
Which is not saying much, since my neighborhood is this Continent. I
included this one to illustrate how different the winter-time scene
is here in Iowa -- from the summer-time pictures you are about to
see.
Day One.
This shoot started late in
the day, at sunset here in Wright County. I have boosted the
saturation of this picture to show the color gradients that actually
exist and are never seen by Human eyes.
This cloud caught my
attention. It is shown here as it actually was in the light of the
sunset. You will notice that below it, is a kind of ground smoke that
covers much of Iowa at this time.
I often look above, to see
if I am missing anything. I was able to take some pictures of a
jetliner passing overhead. I have accented the details of these three
photos, but not the colors.
This is an attempt to
photograph the moon, using the automatic features of the Sony A
series camera. I used my two Sonys (18-55mm and 55-200mm) for all of
this ‘Here’ episode. They are not as high resolution as the
Nikons are -- which produces a more artistic result -- that being
what I wanted. Except, that is, when I use Sony II at 200mm and shoot
macro close-ups of insects -- which can produce very sharp pictures.
I am drifting into photographic art, as this ‘Here’ episode will
illustrate.
I call this photograph of
the moon -- ‘The Coyote’s Eye’.
I told you about the smoke
cover that is over much of Iowa, and the Midwest, during April and up
to May 15; this is Fire Ecology in action. Farmers all over the
Midwest set fires to enrich their fields. It produces a pall of smoke
hundreds of feet high across much of the central part of the nation.
As I drive across the Midwest, often I see these many thousands of
fires, usually burning in the cooler temperatures of evening.
Day Two. Looking east.
In Hancock County now,
north of Wright County.
This picture gives you a
real look at how ButtUgly those BUWI windmills are. On their own,
they are something that only a greedy egomaniac could love. Set
against the Nature Beauty of Iowa, they are Thrice Repulsive --
Repulsive to begin with -- Repulsive in comparison to Nature --
Repulsive to Nature itself .
I Am Still Looking -- And
I Still Do Not See Any Flocks Or Formations Of Birds (Of Any Kind)
Flying In OR Among The ButtUgly Windmills.
Same Oasis. This is one of
my ‘Nature Photography’ contributions, per se.
Coots. Fulica
americana. The American Coot. They hit
central Iowa by the many thousands during the spring migration. They
are always seen in or near larger water bodies, as they are unable to
lift off from land, and must run on the surface of water in order to
take flight.
A ‘Presence Shot’.
Nearby, is a sluice that
feeds a river from a lake. These fish congregate in the oxygen-rich
waters there.
On the lake itself are
many species of waterfowl and Canadian Geese, of course.
Coots again.
Frog 1.
Nearby, is a wetlands of
grass. Many of the types of frogs, that I have shown pictures of
before, are there. While I got these two to sit still for a while,
many dozens of other frogs were bouncing all around us.
The last time I showed
pictures of these animals, I was at a different pond many miles away
-- but, they are all identical except for unique markings. Same
Species.
Frog 1.
Frog 1.
Frog 2.
Frog 2.
Looking north.
In Cerro Gordo County now,
east of Hancock County. I take pictures like this even when the
lighting is not ideal. It shows the isolated island nature of many
farms out here on the ‘Flatlands’.
Looking north.
Looking south.
I liked this look, and I
was taking its picture when a farm machine passed on the road behind
me. I took several shots of this, and then turned to snap two
pictures of the farm machine going down this dirt road.
Looking west.
These two photos are shown
in their real colorations.
I turned away from the
farm machine and made some adjustments to my camera and cleaned it
again -- I am always cleaning cameras out here. Then, I turned again
to look down that road and a vision appeared to me -- of how typical
this scene is of sunsets over dirt roads from Toledo to Denver. It is
a time of day and a ‘sensation setting’ (or event) that gives you
a feeling of great expanse and simple furnishings. At times like
this, you can actually see the curve of the Earth and feel the ‘size’
of the planet -- with the star above in such seemingly close
proximity. It happens only rarely, and more often in the Midwest than
anywhere else in the Continental U.S. If you have the senses for it,
in places and times like this, you can actually feel and ‘understand’
the physical size of the Earth. You feel as though you can actually
touch the entire planet, take a hold of it, grasp its entire meaning.
IF.
If you have the brains and
the senses.
That immediately excludes
anyone who watches TV, and/or was educated in an NEA Public School.
And, I mean that.
This brings up a point
that I have stressed before in the ‘Here’ series. I offer
photographs that I am sure many people (who want eye candies) will
slough off and/or ignore as something that I should not have
included. Well, neither they (or you) are the only types of Humans
looking at these pictures. I have to consider the many Humans that
have somehow recovered from NEA programming and/or do not watch TV.
Those people have the minds for this, but they might also be shut-in
for a variety of reasons and cannot get out into Nature as I can.
Certainly, they are not out HERE.
There is only me, and the
coyotes, and the birds, and the farmers -- HERE.
I adapted this original
picture into an artistic rendition of the impression that the scene
gave to me.
Looking east.
This, and the next two
pictures were taken from atop an overpass above I35. I am looking for
sense of distance and feeling of ebb tide and day’s end.
Looking west.
Looking south.
A hidden pool. One of
hundreds that exist across Iowa. At this time of the year, they are
always being used by geese and ducks of many kinds. The Coots prefer
the bigger lakes, so you seldom see them in smaller places like this.
Such ponds are always surrounded by a protective layer of trees,
however that gives them an island appearance -- and with so many farm
islands out here it is impossible to know which ones are ponds and
which ones are farms, unless you can see some outer buildings.
I called it quits for that
day. Which always means I will have more pictures to take on the way
back home.
Finally, I got the moon to
picture right. This is using 1/400 with f5.6 and ISO 100 -- in Manual
mode of course.
Day Three.
Looking north.
Starting in Wright County
again. I wander east, up onto the backbones from which I can see in
all directions.
Looking east from the
backbones.
Looking west. A panorama
of this was used for one of my website cover photographs.
Looking east again.
Driving north of the
backbones, I think there is a house in there somewhere.
Close by, looking east
again. These pictures are all being taken before most of the crops
have broken ground. In many cases, the fields have not been sown yet.
Looking west from the same
point.
I start wandering east
again, leaving Wright County and going into Franklin County.
One thing about the
‘Flatlands’ of Iowa, it is hard to die of thirst out here. The
entire landscape is laced with water canals, ditches, streams and
rivers. In the southern and hilly parts of the state, there is
actually much less access to ground water than there is here, due to
that terrain being impossible for irrigation courses.
A very stout and strong
tower structure, which is not being made any more (for some reason).
I told you about the
dispersions and diasporas that have happened out here in Rural Iowa,
before. This is one of the ruins.
Still wandering eastwards,
I took three pictures of this guy in his tractor. He probably thought
I was the Internal Revenue Service.
From here I keep
zig-zagging across Franklin County, looking for pictures.
Stopped for a few minutes
to listen to the singing.
Northeast of Geneva now,
soon I will be in Butler County.
At ‘Big Marsh’ in
Butler County, the state’s largest marsh area.
Last shot of the day.
Still at Big Marsh.
Day Four.
This day starts off calmly
enough. There is no hint of any big events to happen. However, before
the day was over I had taken 1,422 pictures, in about seven hours --
which is a record for me. I kept 372 of them. You will see
eighty-seven that I consider to be World Class, or of interest to
people who can never see such things for themselves.
By the way, I have no idea
what that thing is out there in that field. A high-rise chicken coop?
It is built like a walk bridge.
Three pictures of
Swaledale. I am up in Cerro Gordo County again.
Looking west.
Three pictures of
Beaverdam Creek just east of Swaledale.
Looking east.
Just south of there.
Now, at the same place.
Looking Northeast across a vista.
Looking east and further
east. I was trying to get a long distance aspect of Rockwell, but it
never happened.
So, I went into Rockwell
and took these three pictures of the town. I was only passing
through, and I have shown pictures of this town before. Somewhere.
Looking east. East of
Rockwell, another vista view.
My objective now is the
next town east and northeast, which is Rockford (not Rockwell).
Most of what follows,
happens between Rockwell and Rockford further east and northeast;
also northwest of Rockford -- except for the parts in the Rolling
Hills and at Eagle Grove.
Looking east.
Light behind me is
failing. I am experiencing many moving shadows cast from behind me.
Looking west.
Usually looking forwards
for photo opportunities, I went down a dead end to a closed bridge
over a stream. There were no pictures possible there, but as I turned
to look west it became obvious that a huge storm front was moving in
on this area from Nebraska.
I intended to hit Rockford
ahead of the storm, and drove north. As I went, I saw this farmer
zipping around a field with his tractor, trying to get in a few last
passes before the floods descended upon him.
Looking west.
I began a weaving course
towards the northeast, and Rockford. Up on an elevated height I
stopped to take pictures of the advancing storm.
Looking east.
Same point, opposite
direction. You can barely see Rockford to the far left.
Suddenly, I realized that
I was in a transition zone. For perhaps half an hour, there would be
special lighting effects spread across long distances; with far
eastern clouds still illuminated by the local star.
You would not know, of
course, but this one (and the next) are some of my better
photographs. This is photography imitating Van Gogh.
You can clearly see
Rockford in the background.
Looking east.
The roads made me turn
south, and I saw this.
I want this to look dark.
It was dark. The light is fading, due to the approaching storm behind
this photographer.
And this.
Then, Rockford.
Looking east.
East of Rockford. Slim
light in this direction. I began to take pictures that could be
changed later to show light beam variations, which most people do not
see. I see them through a kind of double overlay vision technique. I
see more than is immediate. Most people just accept for granted that
what they see at first about something, must be all there is to it.
It never occurs to graduates of public schools that there are three
dimensions, instead of the two dimensions of TV and teacher’s
faces.
I turned northwest into
the storm, determined to get pictures from within the lightning
cells. Throughout my brief stay in Rockwell there was a great roaring
of thunder from the west.
I found a roadside
viewpoint of the approaching lightning and began to take hundreds of
rapid-fire shots in an effort to catch some of the action.
Can you see the pressure
waves over the farm to the right?
In the following
photographs I sometimes computer enhance the pictures to bring out
the light variations caused by pressure waves.
Reckoning my current
position, I decided that the storm was going to pass over Mason City;
so I relocated to a closer position. You cannot know it, but Mason
City is directly underneath the explosions that you are going to see.
What follows in the next thirteen pictures is a mere pittance of the
pictures which I took here, which captured a mere fraction of what
really happened. However, it would take hours to explain all of them,
and some are repetitious. I am showing you the highlights that can be
explained easily.
Still looking towards
Mason City. Throughout all of this I was sitting in the Cashmere with
the motor off and all windows open; to have a solid surface to brace
the camera with and to keep the air temperatures the same as the
outside environment. Being there was like being at one of Napoleon’s
Artillery Duels with the British, an endless barrage. Many strikes
were right overhead and the car shook, but it was rocking on all four
tires anyway because of the approaching winds. In this picture you
can just barely make out that a curtain of rain is descending out of
the storm cell.
Here, the rain curtain is
much more obvious as it crosses the field towards me. Rain drops are
starting to fall on the lens.
I had thirty seconds
before the wall of rain hit. I jumped out and started to take
pictures straight up into the clouds over me, which had been
producing such loud explosions.
The rain came down in a
uniform manner. Which is to say, everywhere with the same density. I
had the idea to re-position myself down south at Rockford, and to get
pictures of the lightning effects with the town in the foreground.
This picture, and the next
four are shown as is -- with no attempt to change them. I am doing
this to show what it really looks like in such a storm.
I found my way back to
Rockford, and positioned the car diagonally to the Middle School on
the east edge of town.
This coloration is caused
by the timing of the camera to the explosion, and which shift is
being illuminated at that instant.
To Humans with slower eyes
and different processors, each explosion would just appear as a fast
and huge flash of white light. This actually shows you something that
you have always been missing.
A huge and prolonged boom
directly over the Middle School. So intense that computer editing
cannot reveal the bolt inside, so I just left it as is.
Some vehicle passed in
front of the camera at this moment.
I looked at the camera,
and it said I had already taken more than a thousand pictures. I said
to myself -- “time to mosey back to the corral!” On the way out
of town, I saw a locomotive sitting on some tracks in the darkness. I
stopped and readied the camera. Each time there was the beginning of
a lightning flash, I took a picture. I got about eight that worked,
of which this shows the most details conventionally, with a flash
from directly overhead.
Looking south.
I kept this one entirely
because of the silhouette of the house on the far left.
Deep in the dark. By dead
reckoning, I was closer to Eagle Grove but still in Wright County. In
the rolling hills actually. I came to a stop facing south, and shut
off the motor and opened all of the windows again. I had expected to
leave the storm behind, back north by northeast at Swaledale and
Rockwell and Rockford and Mason City. No such luck. Three more storm
cells were now where I was. One directly south, probably over the
Boondocks. Another right on top of me. A third off towards Eagle
Grove.
Not to worry, I took
another two hundred pictures from the top of the Cashmere, which you
will see as a reflective surface in the foreground. Of those
pictures, I have chosen this one and the next five as samples. The
coloration is what the camera sees. I also saw some blues and
violets, but not as intense as the camera picked up.
Looking east.
Those are the lights of
Belmond in the distance.
Looking southwest. The
green light is a small household out here.
Looking southeast.
I got soaked, again, of
course. I got back in the Cashmere and closed the window and started
the heater. I turned around in the road and began to drive. I had a
hunch that I was near Morse Lake, where the very first cover photo of
this website was taken. Under much different circumstances, of
course. I drove along the winding roads, remembering that last winter
the roads here were closed by huge mounds of snow. I reached the dock
on the east shore, and there I took this picture of the rain in the
headlights.
Enough was enough for me.
I usually say that several times until I finally reach my own house,
dozens of pictures later.
Well, there was this one
rise in the road -- from which I could picture a light tower and
silhouettes of trees -- and a fantastic light display was on the
boards. I stopped and shut off the motor and rolled down the windows
and began shooting.
You can get more detail
out of these pictures if you increase the contrast of your monitor or
laptop (temporarily).
In this rarefied
environment I was ready to expect anything; like scarecrows running
for cover, winged Ladies of Light dancing in circles around the
central light beam, and a huge beanstalk descending from the clouds
with a little boy named Jack hanging on for dear life.
Finally. Back at Eagle
Grove, and the place was being roasted in lightning sauce. I stopped
nearby, and got out and used the roof of the car again for a support.
Took about a hundred photos here.
*************************
Markel Peters
http://www.voices-of-iowa-concise.blogspot.com
