It is only fair that a Westerner should admit that his forests are deadly dull compared to back East. The West has other advantages; a good sport must lose on something. But at least we have ponderosa forests.
Every hiker probably appreciates them: the semi-openness, most of all. (Most western forests are horribly mismanaged bark-and-needle thickets.) A mountain biker probably likes ponderosa forests even more. Because the ponderosas grow separately, enough sunlight hits the forest floor to keep it dry and warm; lots of grass grows between the ponderosas. Presumably that's the origin of rich brown soil in these forests, even when lava is close to the surface, such as on the Mogollon Rim in northern Arizona.
Ahh, rich brown soil; smooth and hard-packed. I flew along on a single track trail today and felt like a kid. At times the bike launched into the air, after cresting a mogul.
After this giddiness, at the end of the ride, I biked through an area with many yellow flowers. Nothing spectacular; they weren't a Hollywood-blond-bombshell sort of flower. I felt angry in taking these rather ordinary flowers and ponderosa forest for granted. The anger found relief by dwelling on "dapple-ness." It is one of the most appealing qualities of flowers of the humblest sort in a ponderosa forest. Dappleness puts each flower, no matter how humble, on a pedestal.
What would the perfect contrast and lighting be? I roamed around, studying this flower/background combination versus that, and was soon overwhelmed by the number of choices. Actually I was laughing at myself; but at least I wasn't angry anymore.
You need to be a painter to have a feel for contrast and lighting, and get this kind of photography right. No wonder one of my favorite photographers is also a painter. If the rumor mill is correct he is even about to become an author.
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