Glimpse of History

Posted on October 2, 2016 by Laura Lindblom under country life, Photography

There is something haunting about the beauty of these creatures. It is strange to see animals so muscled and powerful bedded down quietly in the tall grass, blinking sleepily in the bright sunlight, staring curiously at the intruders then losing interest, their massive horns spread broadly beyond the width of their shoulders. Only their horns are visible when they hunker down in the warm grass. Perhaps what is haunting is the feeling that even a barbed wire fence is no match for their strength. Or, perhaps it is the feeling that I’m staring into their eyes and getting a glimpse of history. Perhaps both.

Laura Elizabeth

A Whole Forest of Trees

Posted on September 30, 2016 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

There is a mystery about the oak tree – Something about it captures the imagination. Seeing how it has been woven into cultures worldwide fascinates me. What is it about this tree? Oaks serve as national symbols of many countries, including the United States. Oak trees stand for perseverance and strength, for obvious reasons, and their utility is highly sought. But it isn’t just the strength and the utility. They have been woven into the religious fibers of pagan cultures, Celtic, Greek, Nordic, and others, and are considered to be associated with various gods and religious rites.
Oak trees are plentiful in the Black Hills. These stubborn, wizened trees grow in thick groves in low places, some towering tall, others stunted and blighted but as tenacious as ever. One very special burr oak is just a few miles down the road from us, the Council Oak, a several-hundred-year-old tree that served as a meeting place for the battling Sioux and Crow Indians in the 1700s. To have served as a meeting place more than 200 years ago, it must have been of considerable size even then. And now, it is awe-inspiring.

The pagan cultures can marvel at the oak and adopt it as a symbol of their religious beliefs. And as a Christian, I can’t help but be struck by how close they come, in one sense, yet how far. The wonder of the pagans evidences, I think, the innate knowledge that only a Creator God could have crafted something as marvelous as the oak tree. Consider, for instance, the polytheistic mythology of the Greeks and Romans. They were overwhelmed by the beauty of the world they lived in and, being pagan nations that did not know God, they assigned to the wonders of the world their own created deities, to explain to themselves the marvels they witnessed. Even so, druids performing pagan rites chose “sacred” oak groves as the place of their activities. Oaks were the trees of Thor and of Zeus. These cultures were so close, on one hand, recognizing something glorious and incomprehensible in the world around them, yet were so far off in attributing the glory to Whom it was due.
In Isaiah 61, the Lord proclaims this beautiful mission fulfilled in His coming:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;
    he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
²to proclaim the year of the Lord‘s favor,
    and the day of vengeance of our God;
    to comfort all who mourn;
³to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
    the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.

May Christ’s Children truly be oaks of righteousness, in this storm of political and social upheaval, in the torrent of temptation that assaults us daily, in this time when all vigilance is required. May we seek righteousness, for the glory of Christ. May we glorify Him in proclaiming the truth. May we be like oaks, unshaken, gracious, courageous, and tenacious, and may our words and actions and witness be like the treasure of the acorn, fruitful. For as wonderful as the oak tree is, how miraculous is the acorn.
Just as Abraham’s seed contained the whole world of Redeemed, both those who are God’s Chosen by birth (the nation of Israel) and those who are God’s Chosen by blood (all Christians), contained within the tiny shell of an acorn is a whole forest of trees. A whole forest of trees.

Laura Elizabeth

Save

Relics of the West

Posted on September 28, 2016 by Laura Lindblom under Pets/Domestic/Farm Animals, Photography

It is impossible to study the history of the American West without being impressed with two things: barbed wire and the Texas longhorn.
The longhorn is a breed of Spanish origin that was widespread in the American south. During the Civil War, ranches in Texas were shorthanded and consequently the herds of cattle on the open ranges were unmanaged and essentially went wild. The cattle reproduced prolifically for years. After the war, then, these wild, unbranded cattle were free for the taking, and were rounded up by gutsy cowboys and driven north, to the goldfields and boom towns in the West, along well-worn, legendary cattle trails, and were also sold in eastern markets. The invention of barbed wire in the 1860s and the widespread use of it in the 1880s changed the landscape of ranching, putting an end to the days of the open range. Violent feuds and range wars raged throughout the West as a result, and a series of conflicts known as the Fence Cutting Wars were a last-ditch effort to preserve the open range. The barbed wire has stayed and has become a necessary part of ranching, though the longhorns haven’t. There are a number of ranchers out here who keep small herds of these beautiful creatures, and it is always a delight to see them. Such magnificent animals.

Laura Elizabeth

Save

Metamorphosis

Posted on September 24, 2016 by Laura Lindblom under Photography, Writing

There is a wonderful transformation that takes place this time of year, changing what is common into what is precious, from emerald and black to crimson and gold. It was the rumor of gold that first brought the white man into the Black Hills in the 1870s, late in the era of the gold rush. But whatever precious metals they found while digging in the ground and panning in the streams, these riches outstrip them all, though they fade in a mere handful of days. It is the metamorphosis of autumn.The miracle of autumn is one which I am firmly convinced is entirely for our joy and God’s glory. God didn’t have to create the bounties of autumn color – The trees could simply turn brown and lose their leaves. But God in His sovereign goodness gave us the tapestry of the seasons, including the fleeting glories of autumn.
The Hole-in-the-Wall trail is festive in gold and green and crimson, the entire trail lined with hardwood trees in a mighty array of autumn colors. The higher hillsides are pine and so never change, but in the ravines the aspens and burr oaks and other hardwood trees and shrubs flourish, and are now painted their various hues of gold and crimson and yellow.
When the evening sun shines from over the mountains, the aspens are lit up like torches, glowing and burning. Rocky hillsides are illuminated with the flaming color of the trees. Driving along our already beautiful highways, my breath is swept away, when around a corner is suddenly revealed a golden hillside, or glowing ravine, or a roadside lined with brilliant color.I took a drive down Rockerville Road, and explored a couple of side roads. The sights were glorious, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud in delight! Springtime is wonderful, summer is rambunctious, but to catch the leaves in the prime of their autumn color is pure bliss. Roadside wildflowers are a riot of reds and golds, with a touch of purple here and there. Those, too, will soon fade, and all that will be left is the memory of the color, and the simple elegance of the dried stems and flower heads.Now, I understand that the color we revel in here isn’t the spectacular display of color we used to enjoy in Illinois, or the color that is legendary further east. But the subtlety of the transformation of the Hills is part of the allure. The mystery of autumn is heightened by its very temporariness. We aren’t two days into autumn and the colors are already fading from their peak three days ago. What a gift, to be able to enjoy such beauty, even for so short a time. For soon, and even now, the color will fade, the gold will glimmer away, and the life of summer will become the chill rest of winter.
Medieval alchemists were fascinated by the mythological concept of the transformation of common metals into gold. But what a delight, the alchemy of the seasons, the metamorphosis of the world around us, God’s created order that simply shouts His glory, and the Gospel story itself! What more wonderful metamorphosis, than the transformation of wretched sinners into redeemed Believers in Christ! Not only the tiny parable in the gold of autumn, taking that which is common and making it precious, but the larger parable of death and renewal, of decay and new life, pictured in the metamorphosis of the seasons.

Laura Elizabeth

Save

Moments

Posted on September 10, 2016 by Laura Lindblom under Photography

I love those unrepeatable moments, those treasures that are captured with the brief opening of the camera shutter, and then are gone, and cannot be duplicated.
And I tried – I tried to come back to the same spot on the trail to have one more go at the leaves and the bokeh, but the spell had broken, the light had changed, and the cottonwood leaves were no longer flickering and flashing in the sky. But the magic lingers on.

Laura Elizabeth

Morning Hike in Black and White

Posted on September 10, 2016 by Laura Lindblom under Photography

Trixie and I went on a little hike this morning and, as per usual, I took my camera, this time giving myself a challenge: only shoot in black and white. That challenge probably had something to do with browsing some Ansel Adams photography yesterday.

We live in a color-filled world, and limiting oneself to seeing in black and white forces one to look at the world differently. Because black and white really isn’t black and white – It is dark and light. And that’s how one has to see, in darks and lights.

Composing a shot in color means paying attention to the color palette, paying attention to the color texture and mood of the background, how the sun distorts or realizes the color of the subject. Shooting in color means that the foreground and background actually have to “match” or complement one another, without splashes of distracting color forcing the eye away from the focal point. Shooting in black and white, however, is a whole different ballgame. Instead of composing colors, one has to compose lights and shadows and textures and contrasts. Highlights and lowlights, sunlight and shade.

The delicateness of the flower has to be conveyed not in the delicacy or whimsy of the color, but in the transparency of the petals, the shapes and contours and contrasts. Those things obviously are important in color photography, but they become the essence of black and white photography. The pale green of the sprig of leaves might catch your eye, but in black and white it is the stained-glass quality of the leaf with the sunlight behind it that defines that leaf, not the color. Just a different way of marveling at this wonderful world.