Classical symphonies, sonatas, and fugues cracked
over the radio of a Dodge Caravan en route thirty minutes outside of the
city. Time was precious, but so was getting in a quick hike on a rare
sunny Wednesday during one of the coldest months in the Midwest.
My
friend Chris and I took our cameras on a simple little jaunt through a
small section of snow-filled landscape. The groundcover was loose,
powdery, and often glittering; and offered some traction over the slick
layers of ice beneath the snow on the trails. Across the snowscape, we
noticed tracks of deer, rabbits, hikers and their happy canine
companions. We had been here many times before, and in fact Chris was
the friend who had showed me this place many years ago.
Because
duty called, it was a quick walk. All the times I had been to Indian
Lake, I had noticed some ruins of an old homestead across the street
from the entrance. A passerby on the trails earlier had mentioned that
the spot was seemingly popular to photographers. I think the best way
to capture the rubble was against a stark white landscape and a
cornflower blue sky. I do not know the identity of this property or to
whom it once belonged, but there were once humans here making a life
for themselves. To think about that and who they could possibly be, is
almost enough to know about this space and its history.
I
discovered a wonderful gallery of icicles that had formed behind the
shed or barn (the more intact of the two structures). As photographers,
we reacted to these formations like we were children at a zoo gazing at
some exotic creature. These are just collections of frozen water to
many, but they are an artistic opportunity to paint with light and
shadow by the use of lenses to us.
