McConnell's Mill

     Knowing that I would be going to McConnell's Mill for the most recent nature photography trip, I spent days and days debating where I wanted to wander.  I've been there many times throughout my life (and am continuously told not to fall in the water - which Professor Rolinson did a fine job with announcing before the class got off the shuttle - as though this is the most treacherous aquatic place on Earth) and have seen many of the same things each time.  Yes, I was bound to take some establishing shots of my location to add to my family's ongoing collection of images of the same old mill (and I'm glad I didn't have to go in this time because it bores me nearly to death) and build upon photographic concepts that didn't turn out as well as I liked the last time I visited the mill last Spring.  But I really wanted to look at something new, and not just the most microscopic details along the same paths or different angles of the same trees and plants and rocks and water.
     I was glad to be given the opportunity to venture off into the woods with Professor Rolinson and a few fellow classmates because, as I told them while climbing down some large rocks, these were the kinds of places I most wanted to explore and rarely get the chance to, since the other people with me either won't attempt or aren't entirely capable of reaching the spots.  These locations, sprinkled with sunlight glistening on the thin layer of ice, were so peaceful and so welcoming.  Because I've been to McConnell's Mill so much in the past, it gives me that feeling one gets while spending some time at a summer home; I was home in a natural place that I trust and that I know pretty well.  Those gigantic rocks covered in ice, moss, tree roots, etc. simply seemed like walls and couches and beds.  Things hang on them and sit on them and climb on them all the time - things that call them home 24/7 - and I was one of those things.
     Granted, I did not feel so warmly welcomed earlier in the morning when I slipped and fell rather intensely (even though I was grabbing the hand railing) while going down the natural staircase of tree roots, rocks, and ice a second time for a photograph I had to go take.  At my feet after impact were smaller versions of the bullet casings I wanted to photograph that I did not realize were down there the first time I wandered along the path.  Perhaps nature had that "oh great, another one of those human beings...I wonder what she'll leave behind" kind of attitude and tried to sabotage my trip by taking me out, but I think it found that my purpose for going down there twice was environmentally conscious and friendly.
     I still can't sit the way I want to and probably won't be able to for a few more days, but the pain was worth it and didn't stop me from pursuing the photographic concept that I've decided upon for my final portfolio.

Hollow's flow

Dead

Sinking

Nature's got a mean side

Fade to black

Crinkle

Wintry mantel

Leaving the road

Ceiling