Mother Natures Fury - Ragged Falls

Mother Natures Fury - Ragged Falls
Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

I just returned from Algonquin my Spring reunion with this incredible place.

Once more Mother Nature showed her true power.
We are puny in comparison:

Roads washed away leaving people stranded on the wrong end of Opeongo Road, streams and rivers raging, and winter still clinging in the quiet sheltered corners of the woods.

Patrick and I spent a day above the washed out beaver dam near Opeongo Rd and Hwy 60. A couple of years ago this was a series of lakes but no more. Returning to the area over recent years I have been able to witness just how quickly Mother Nature, if left to her own devices, repairs and replenishes a devastated area.
The grasses are back offering a thick luxurious covering to replace the cloying mud of recent years and Bulrushes are sprouting.

At the end of the day we we witnessed a beginning, a young beaver was making its way up the shallow meandering creek that fed this area before the beavers arrived the first time. I look forward to seeing their efforts at rebuilding.

On Sunday morning we visited Ragged Falls before heading home.

You could hear the roar of the water from the parking lot and that’s half a Km away. A sign of things to come...

In my wildest expectations I didn’t think it would be like this, Thousands of gallons per minute swept not only over the falls as the approach was flooded by about four of five feet of water and a second falls were born down the rocky ledges that was once a way down by foot.
The table (viewing section of natural rock was an island as water, deep and fast raced by, the noise was overwhelming and overpowering. What had been gentle cascades were now raging rapids with haystacks climbing about the now submerged rocks, noise everywhere

What a sight ...


Say, care-worn man,
Whom Duty chains within the city walls,
Amid the toiling crowd, how grateful plays
The fresh wind o'er thy sickly brow, when free
To tread the springy turf,— to hear the trees
Communing with the gales,—to catch the voice
Of waters, gushing from their rocky womb,
And singing as they wander...
Spring-hours will come again, and feelings rise
With dewy freshness o'er thy wither'd heart.
~Robert Montgomery, "Beautiful Influences," A Universal Prayer; Death; A Vision of Heaven; and A Vision of Hell 1829

Blue Springs - Textures III

Blue Springs - Textures III
Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

“I am a photographer”

Today we had our first meeting of the season at my local gallery. Beryl asked everyone to introduce themselves for the benefit of the new members, I, sitting to her left was first up;

“My name is Alan Norsworthy and I am a photographer” said I.

On down the table we went, each stating their name and what they do and what medium they work in.

There are four or five photographers represented by the gallery not one of them spoke of being a photographer, I found that profoundly interesting.

Was it because we photographers think of ourselves as second class citizens when in the company of 'true' artists?

Do we have an inferiority complex that stops us from standing up and admitting to the world that we are photographers we are and proud of it !

I know I don't. Maybe it's because I can, if I choose to, paint and draw, so really I do feel that I am amongst my peers but I still wonder why ....

So the next time you have to stand up and admit that you are a photographer remember the words of one of the masters of our craft

Photography records the gamut of feelings written on the human face, the beauty of the earth and skies that man has inherited, and the wealth and confusion man has created. It is a major force in explaining man to man. ~Edward Steichen

After The Storm - Forsythia

After The Storm - Forsythia
Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

Spring is supposed to be here but no-one told winter ….

At the end of the week we had a tremendous winter storm, as it passed everything was coated in a thick sheet of ice.
Ever since I can remember I have loved storms, howling gales, lashing rain and crashing seas were all part of my childhood and when a storm brews on the horizon I am taken back to those times.

Nothing beats a good storm …..

For the man sound in body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather; every day has its beauty, and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously. ~George Gissing, "Winter," The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft, 1903

Morning Glory

Morning Glory
Originally uploaded by Alan Norsworthy

The wheel turns and once again another winter is almost over, to many it is a delight to see it go but not to me.
Winter is my time, I enjoy the cold far more than I ‘enjoy’ the heat of summer, tolerate is probably a better word.
However the wheel turns and nothing can stop it.
So I look to the spring as I look to all the seasons with pleasure and awe.

It’s the change that inspires, the knowledge that something new is coming.

It’s my amazement in seeing things come to life after months of slumber in the frozen earth.

It’s hearing the birds again after months of silence and the woods are filling with their song.

It’s hearing the rivers and streams sing their own song as they are freed from winters icy grip and continue their journey to the sea.

It’s seeing the drab grays and browns of late winter giving way to the greens of spring.

Once more the world comes alive and the promise is fulfilled as the tiniest bird and the largest creatures all rejoice in their survival and begin to construct their nests and dens for a new generation to come.

Every day that passes the sun gains strength but for now the wind is still cold, as a reminder …

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. ~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations