Sideways sunlight

Under the evergreens, the canopy shades the strongest light in the middle of the day, keeping the ferns and moss underneath in the deep shade they love, but as the sun drops toward the horizon, its rays manage to penetrate between the trunks here and there. 

These photos are from the top of the trail down to Roberts Lake. Lower down, the mountains across the lake block more of the light; it's damper down there, and the ferns grow more abundantly, the moss is thicker.

Just after 4 PM. Sunset is around 7:30 these days.

Huckleberries grow often on stumps, where they capture more sunlight.

Our days are shrinking, but we still have, today, 12 hours and 40 minutes of sunlight. Tomorrow we lose another 3 minutes.

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Bajo los abetos, el dosel arbóreo impide la entrada de la luz al suelo a mediodía, manteniendo los helechos y musgos en la sombra que les gusta, pero en la tarde, cuando el sol baja hacia el horizonte, algunos rayos de su luz llegan a penetrar entre los troncos.

Estas fotos muestran el bosque en el sendero hacia el lago Roberts, en el nivel más alto del monte. Bajando el declive, hay más sombra; el bosque es más húmedo, los helechos son más abundantes, el musgo más hondo, ya que aquí la montaña al otro lado del lago bloquea la luz.

Esto fue un poco después del 4 de la tarde; la puesta del sol aquí en esta temporada es a las 7:30.

Segunda foto: los arándanos rojos crecen muchas veces sobre troncones, donde les llega más de la luz del sol.

Los dias se hacen cada vez más cortos, pero todavía tenemos doce horas con cuarenta minutos de sol. Mañana perderemos otros tres minutos.

Watching the estuary

I have a folder where I put photos I'm going to post, "soon" but not right now. Then they get forgotten. I checked the folder this afternoon; there were over 100 sub-folders in there. I bunged them all together, deleted a bunch, and moved them into my current folder.

So for a bit, I'll be posting photos by location or subject, some old, some new, a few ancient.

Today, the ever-changing Campbell River estuary, through the seasons.

The light changes from day to day; January 23, 2017, 3:52 PM

January 29, 2017, 3:11 PM

Less than a week later: February 3, 2017, 2:52 PM

Pussy willows, April 2017

April 9, 2019, 3:53 PM

Somehow, there are no summer photos.

September 8, 2019, 4:45 PM. Fall colours starting to show.

The Hecate. It's always there, somewhere. September, this year.

Float plane landing. Oct 31, 2016, 3:00 PM. It's the dark end of the year.

Toyota brainstorm

My car sometimes runs on autopilot. I thought I was going inland to look for deep snow, but the car stopped at Oyster Bay Shoreline Park, where the snow didn't even top my shoes.

The car has good ideas, some days.

Afternoon light on trees, deciduous and evergreen. Looking inland, over the protected wild field.

Sit and rest awhile. The seat is cushioned.

Lichens (3 species) on cottonwood

I walked through the field and small patch of bush, then on to the south end of the shore.

All very peaceful. Quadra Island on the left, Mitlenatch on the right (the small, pale line just south of the barge), and the frozen mainland straight ahead.

Carex macrocephala, reduced to soft, yellow blades. But the treacherous seed cases still lie in wait on the ground, as sharp and stiff as ever. Two are visible here, near the upper left third lines.

On the shore, mounds of fresh bull kelp have been tossed up to freeze. The cold splits the thick-walled floats; I saw dozens like this. Usually, they dry intact. 

Grasses in the dunes just inland of the log jam.

And north to the far end of the bay, to look at the lagoon and its birds.

On the far spit, a flock of Canada geese sleep in the sunshine. Ducks, mostly mallards, wigeons, and mallard hybrids paddle slowly back and forth, though always just a bit faster than I could walk, trying to get closer.

I saw couple of loons, a few harlequin ducks, and diving ducks, these last always caught just as they disappeared underwater. Along the water's edge peeps small and large foraged. A few sparrows joined them in the drier areas; not a usual place for them, but their field and woods are under snow.

Black turnstone and frozen salt-tolerant plants.

Turnstones in flight show a dramatic pattern in black and white.

They almost look like butterflies here.

And back to the car, shortly before sunset. (At 4:29 PM.)

Last light on a snake-rail fence.

Good thinking, car! I enjoyed the walk!

Light on the estuary

2 PM. Clouds in the sky, clouds in the river. The sun trying its best to squirm through. And mallards catching a few stray rays.

Looking up Campbell River, from Tyee Spit

I think I've posted a similar photo several times. Similar, never the same; the trees may stay put, but the the clouds and the river are never the same twice. And I never get tired of watching them.

A Skywatch post.

Snow. Just snow.

Slogging through snow, I stopped to look at it. Just the snow, not the scenery.

This is snow that has been rained on, smushed down, and then frozen hard.

I thought the purplish colour I'd seen in previous photos would have been an aberration of my lens, so I looked more carefully at the blue shadows. And yes, they looked purple in the afternoon light, at 5:14 PM, half an hour or so before sundown.

Snow with pine needles. The snow is crunchy on top, soft underneath. 3:25 PM.

Lumps and shadows. 5:00 PM. Baikie Island.

Sunset now is at 5:42 PM.

Poppies, purple crawlers, and blue lips

My big anemone, Val, just ate a whole family, mother and kiddies all together! Val's looking fat and happy, if a bit blue around the lips.

I'll tell the whole story tomorrow, with photos of the family in happier days.

For now, here's the mystery ten-legged thing I posted the other day. (I shouldn't really have called it a critter in the title, should I? Not exactly fair.)

No, not a sunflower sea star.

And here's the photo, with background.

Poppy seed pod, half ripe.

And here are a few younger poppies, not gone to seed yet:

Saturated sunlight.

A flaming cradle for that ten-legged, purple "thingie" in the centre.

Poppy and a half. With buds and ferns.

So, tomorrow, then, the sad loss of an entire blue family.

Coffee break, with blue sky

I'm making another video, and as usual, it's taking much longer than I planned. It always seems so easy! And then reality trips me up.

I need something peaceful to rest my eyes. This seems about right:

Afternoon sunlight, late February.

And a steaming cup of coffee. Ahhhhhhh! Now, back to the grindstone.