Step into an early spring morning where sudden frosts adorn the Waterfall by the Old Mill with fleeting icicles, capturing nature’s delicate balance between freeze and thaw.
New icicles formed overnight from seeps through the sedimentary walls around the Waterfall by the Old Mill. On an early spring day, after a sudden frost, we walked the Rim Trail to capture the moment.
Here icicles formed during the quick April freeze hand above Fish Kill. Kill is an old Dutch word for creek.
Click photograph for a larger view. To do this from WordPress Reader, you need to first click the title of this post to open a new page.
Sedimentary Walls
Here a mix of frost and lichen mottle the rock layers.
These shots were hand held. I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.
Robert H. Treman New York State Park.
Click for a slideshow of this Waterfall of the Old Mill sequence
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Join me on a frost-kissed journey along the Rim Trail, capturing the transient beauty of falls freed from winter’s grip, where nature’s power remains untamed and vividly alive.
A day the falls run free of ice. On an early spring day, after a sudden frost, we walked the Rim Trail to capture the moment. Here are three captures of the same waterfall, the first visitors to the upper park encounter and the most visited and photographed right off the parking area.
Fish Kill was captured at this point to provide power to grind grain. Today neither nature nor man control the flow. Kill is the old Dutch word for creek.
Click photograph for a larger view. To do this from WordPress Reader, you need to first click the title of this post to open a new page.
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
I have never counted the waterfalls from this one to the grand sweep of lower falls. The falls are uncountable because no two people could agree on how small a fall to credit.
Of these three versions, i prefer this one for the foreground inclusion of the enormous limestone blocks set to protect visitors from the drop. This scene is challenging photographically, bifurcated as it is by the bright sun over the fall brink. I prefer to shoot these falls early morning, for this reason, before the sun illuminates the area at all. Long exposures required demand a rock solid tripod, as it is just off the parking lot I use my studio Manfrotto for the work. Here all shots were handheld.
I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.
Robert H. Treman New York State Park.
Click for a slideshow of this sequence of the Waterfall of the Old Mill
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
You walk alone by the waters of Cayuga Lake in Stewart Park, nestled in the heart of Ithaca’s Finger Lakes, where Salix alba, the white willow, stands proudly along the shoreline. You’re immediately drawn to the flurry of yellow flowers, a stark contrast to the still chilly early March air.
The white willow (Salix alba), with its rough, gray bark, is beginning to dress in its spring finery, its branches teeming with tiny, starburst-like flowers. Each one is a miniature sun, casting a glow against the intricate lattice of branches. These aren’t the soft catkins of the pussy willow but the yellow inflorescences that are characteristic of the white willow’s early bloom, a signpost that winter’s grip is loosening.
These trees, you learn, are dioecious, with separate male and female trees. The blossoms you see are likely the male flowers, their stamens dusting your fingers with pollen as you brush against them. It’s this pollen that will soon beckon the bees, urging them to emerge from their hives and begin the work that sustains the ecosystem. You can almost hear the faint buzz, a prelude to the symphony of life that summer will bring. Return in midsummer to find the female catkins comprise numerous small (4 mm) capsules, each containing numerous minute seeds embedded in silky white hairs, which aids wind dispersal.
As you wander further, you note the presence of the white willow’s kin, other deciduous companions some still bare and stretching into the sky and others leafing out. You stand there, at the cusp of seasonal change, where the slumbering trees are on the verge of awakening, and you feel a kinship with them. Like these trees, you have weathered the cold, dark months, and now you stand poised to greet the renewal that comes with spring.
The stark, knotted forms of the white willow branches against the clear sky speak to you of endurance and resilience. These trees have weathered storms and droughts; they have been companions to the lake, mirrors to its moods, and now they are beginning to celebrate the cycle of rebirth and growth.
You take a seat on a bench, the cool wood through your clothes a reminder of the lingering winter. You gaze out across the lake, the water reflecting the brilliance of the sun like a vast, rippling mirror, framed by the elegant silhouettes of the white willows. You feel the peace of the park seep into you, the slow, rhythmic lapping of the water syncing with your breath.
This is a moment of transition, from the sleeping to the awakening world. You think about the Salix alba, how its presence here is a testament to nature’s adaptability, thriving in the moist soil by the lake, offering shade in summer and shelter in winter, its branches a playground for the winds.
As you leave Stewart Park, you take with you the memory of the white willows in early March, the quiet guardians of Cayuga Lake. They remind you of the enduring beauty of nature, the seamless flow from one season to the next, and the quiet joy of standing witness to the first whispers of spring on the shores of the Finger Lakes.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
On a brisk day at Stewart Park, I stroll alongside Cayuga Lake, observing Canadian Geese and white willows. The tranquil, interconnected scene proves an enduring memory despite everyday worries.
In twilight’s hush, embraced by oaks,
A well of stone, with stories etched in lace,
Now table made, where others’ whispers weave,
And time’s soft hands a tapestry conceive.
Explore the enchanting Lick Brook in the Finger Lakes region, where the Land Trust’s conservation efforts preserve nature’s beauty. Join me to uncover this hidden gem and its ecological wonders.