Monday, June 24, 2013

wet shooting

It was now or never.

I have a favorite object to photograph -- the rocks at the mouth of Navidad Bay.  The variations in light and color make them as interesting to me as a study as the façade of the cathedral at Rouen was to Monet.

But time (and the weather) will not wait for me.  I knew the rains would soon be upon us.  The two appetizers we had last week were not the full meal deal.

And when the real rains arrive, the dirt road up to the viewpoint -- where I do my shooting -- will become at least rough.  If not temporarily impassable.  As a former coastal mountain boy, I am familiar what heavy rains can do to roads.  Here today -- gap tomorrow.

My timing turned out to be impeccable. 

The skies had been cloudy all morning on Sunday.  Not that chalky gray cloud cover that is no more interesting than a blank canvas.  This was the dramatic blue and dark gray that holds promise of metal-brassiered sopranos singing of Valhalla,

And the promise was kept.  On the drive down, I stopped to take this shot.

Whenever a storm is on the way, nature goes out of her way to add special filters to the lighting.  Colors seem brighter -- with the contrasts set on maximum.

In the near distance, you can see why the light shifted.  A substantial squall was rolling in from the east.  It hit Melaque just as I was turning off the highway to return home.

"Hit" is exactly the word I wanted.  When tropical rainstorms move in, they do not simply rain.  They explode. 

It took me less than three minutes to get to the house.  The rain had already filled the street in front of my gate up to my ankles.  By the time I had unlocked the gate, I doubt there was a dry spot on my body.

And the rain was as beautiful as anything I hade seen in months.  For thirty minutes, it poured.  Ironically, driving the humidity out of the air.  But also dropping the temperature a few degrees.

On my walk around the laguna around midnight on Sunday, everything in the night sang of a new season.  The cicadas were almost deafening.  With the peepers adding a chirpy soprano counterpoint.

And, of course, just as the first robin heralds spring in The States, the first land crab on my screen door announces the arrival of summer in Melaque.  Well, the crab and the massive hatch of winged termites that have taken to the warm night sky for a quick fling to ensure that the next generation will be a continuing generation.

I may as well welcome the summer.  Because it is going to be taking up residence here for the next three or four months.  And there will be much to enjoy.


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