Golden dawn

One morning, despite the bitter cold, I managed to get up early to try and take some photographs capturing the golden light of dawn. I must have been insane…it was so cold I though my fingers were going to freeze to the tripod. And the same chill that created the hoar frost that clung to the trees I thought would freeze my lungs.

There has got to be a better way to pursue a hobby! Although, now, looking back I am glad I did it….

Before viewing the photographs, I would also like to invite you to visit the poetry blog, the Book of Pain. Thank you for dropping by the Book of Bokeh.

Notice the duck - Putnam, CT

Notice the duck – Putnam, CT

Play misty - Putnam, CT

Play misty – Putnam, CT

Golden river - Killingly, CT

Golden river – Killingly, CT

Golden river 2 - Killingly, CT

Golden river 2 – Killingly, CT

Golden river 3 - Killingly, CT

Golden river 3 – Killingly, CT

Spinning gold from trees - Killingly, CT

Spinning gold from trees – Killingly, CT

All photographs and comments ©2014 by John Etheridge with all rights reserved; not to be used without the expressed written permission of the copyright owner.

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4 thoughts on “Golden dawn

    • Thank you, as I am of yours. All I can remember, really, was how freaking cold it was. I would run back to the truck just to get warm. 🙂

  1. Golden River, wowww. Golden River … 3 … Yeah. I think that is my favorite. I’ll share my perspective at a later time about how colors in the Rocky Mountain West differ from what you have here, the New England landscapes. Bottom line, your colors are amazing compared to ours. We are so limited. Peace, T

    • T, No-o-o-o!!!!!

      Let me tell you a story of a young man who grew up in Newfoundland (Atlantic Canada)…a place rife with the history of the sea and seafarers. To be honest, that heritage meant nothing to him and nor did the scenery. He knew too many stories of the tragedy of holding the North Atlantic as your mistress, and the coast was the coast was the coast: cold, wet, cloudy, mostly rainy, often foggy, always misty, gray, dark and darker. Then, when he was in his early twenties he went to live in Alberta for a short period and the first time he saw the Rockies he lost his heart to them and will forever view mountains, any mountains actually, as the place where he feels most at peace and content. It is the tragedy of his life that try as he might, his career has never taken him back to live among them, and living again with them is the one unfulfilled dream of his life. Ironic, huh? Forget gravity, irony is the most powerful force in the universe.

      To me, there are no colors, no scenes, no air, no light, no vistas, no place so wonderful as in the Rockies. I miss them, still, to this day and every return visit makes leaving them only harder.

      Word.

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