For those of us who chase aspen color in the Sierra Nevada every fall, speculating about the potential of the upcoming aspen season is an annual obsession. Will the season start early or late? Will the colors be spectacular or less so? How will the past season’s weather affect it? What are the early signs telling us? When will the peak arrive and when will the show be over?
I’ve been playing this game — with enthusiasm! — for some years now. A few years back I think I finally figured out that I cannot really tell what will happen until it actually happens. As often as not, my “predictions” turn out to be less than perfect and/or immediate conditions (arrival of an early storm, wind, rain, etc.) throw me a curve. The real game is in being flexible and quick to respond to evolving conditions, and to have enough experience with the subject that you have some intuitions about what to do when you encounter the conditions on the scene.
Early Autumn Snow, Eastern Sierra
Yet, I still can’t help but look at Sierra conditions here in September and try to extrapolate forward a bit. As I make my guesses — and frankly, guesses is what they are — about the upcoming Sierra aspen season, a few things are on my mind: Continue reading Sierra Fall Color Speculation (Morning Musings 9/14/14)→
For various reasons — projects I’m working on, clear signs of the changing seasons, photographs I’ve recently seen — I have been getting into that autumn frame of mind that comes at about this time every year. With that in mind, today’s “morning musings” post is about finding and photographing fall color in the Sierra Nevada. Rather than re-writing the whole thing, I’ll start by pointing you to an extensive guide that I wrote a few years ago and have updated every year since that time — if you are thinking of chasing aspen color this fall you may want to take a look: “Sierra Nevada Fall Color — Coming Sooner Than You Think”
If things evolve on a relatively typical schedule, eastern Sierra aspen color is perhaps about six weeks away. I have been photographing this subject for a while now, and it is one of my favorites. I intend to be out there again this fall.
Aspen Color, North Lake
One popular game at this time of year is to predict/guess when the colors will arrive and how good they will be. I’m fully aware that I’ve been wrong quite a few times, and my increasing knowledge of this subject has perhaps only made me more aware of how unpredictable this can be. However, this year I have to wonder about the effects on the trees from our three-year California drought, which has reached an extreme level all across the state this year. I don’t know what the results will be, but I’m considering some possibilities:
During the last two years it seemed to me that I was seeing the onset of color move a bit earlier in the season. I have to wonder if we may see stressed trees go into fall mode a bit on the early side this year.
Some people say that they are seeing a few aspen groves turning brownish-yellow already and looking like they are drying out.
Also during the last few dry years we have seen some anomalous early season storms, and I wonder if that pattern will continue. This can affect the season in various ways if it happens. On the negative side, leaves can blow down early. On the positive side, snow and aspens can make a beautiful pair.
As always, to the extent possible, I like to remain flexible about when and where I’ll photograph the aspens, and I watch the evolving conditions to see what this season may bring. How about you? What are your fall color plans?
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
Late summer morning fog clears about oak and grass-covered California hills. (And yes, it is the same image I shared earlier as today’s daily photograph.)
I first encountered “AutumnIsAroundTheCorner” day — which is my own invention, so don’t try to look it up! — many years ago on a Sierra Nevada backpacking trip. I recall the day specifically, even though it was decades ago. At the time I didn’t know quite what it was even though I clearly sensed the symptoms. As we hiked, we passed an expansive, remote meadow in which a large group of deer were feeding. It was a summer day by the calendar, but it felt different from all of the previous days of that summer. The day was windy and we felt compelled to wear warmer clothes than on other days on this trip. After that I began to notice it more regularly and pay attention to it, and I am now aware of its arrival every year.
It comes unannounced and not on any specific day. For me it typically shows up on a day in the middle of August, at a point when we are just a bit closer to the end of summer than to its beginning. I suspect that its arrival is a rather subjective thing, and that it varies by location and each person’s exposure and sensitivity to natural patterns — though this week when I pointed out its arrival to my wife while we were walking, she agreed that she felt it, too.
I cannot quite put my finger on what it is that I sense, even though I’m certain that it is here when I do sense it. I think that the quality of light has something to do with it, and yesterday we both agreed that it made sense to speak of this light as being somehow “softer.” I know it when I see it, and when I then pay attention to the light I detect a certain loss of clarity in the atmosphere, almost as if there is a bit more of a luminous haze.
But it isn’t just the light. One August I was backpacking across a meadow in the Yosemite Sierra and suddenly becoming aware of it. Again, although I recognized what I was feeling, I wasn’t completely clear about the specific cause, though I had a very clear sense that it had to do with a change in the sound quality of the wind and the way it carried across space. More recently I experienced it while hiking though a place much like that in the photograph accompanying this post, and as I hiked I tried to understand as many aspects of it as I could. The morning breeze had a crisp edge, even though the sunlight was warm. There was a glowing haze as morning fog cleared. I walked past piles of fallen oak leaves and noticed a faint sweet, musty autumn fragrance, and as I walked on them I felt and heard their crunch. I wondered whether it might be that, at some subconscious level, I was aware that the sun was now a bit lower in the sky, or if I was more aware that seasonal plants had stopped growing and were now in decline.
On this day, whenever it arrives and without any doubt, I have a certain awareness of the inevitable approach of autumn and the fading away of summer. Until this day I live in the patterns of summer, taking the warm weather for granted, complaining about the heat, and making summer plans and perhaps putting them off, comfortable in the knowledge that there is plenty of summer left. I watch my vegetable garden grow and anticipate the ripening of vegetables and fruit. But then, on “AutumnIsAroundTheCorner” day, my perspective switches — now summer is no longer coming nor here, but instead coming to an end. Summer things must be done soon. It is time to plant a fall garden. And out there on the horizon of my thinking now are autumn and then winter… my favorite seasons of the year.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
It happens every year at about this time, close to the middle of August. Even though I have learned to expect it, I’m still happily surprised when it occurs. There is inevitably a day when I am outside and I sense something different in the world and I know (really know, not just know by looking at the calendar) that the seasonal trajectory is now beginning to leave summer behind and head inevitably toward autumn.
This is not a bad thing, by the way. I happen to love autumn.
A dry creek surrounded by golden autumn meadow grasses and illuminated by early morning light winds through a clump of small trees near Fletcher Lake, Yosemite National Park, California.
It often happens for me in the Sierra. I usually spend weeks there between June and October – the time of year when camping and backpacking are possible. The beginning of the season is marked by tremendous changes. Snow melts, rivers rise, meadows flood, plants emerge, flowers bloom, campgrounds open, trails clear, tourists arrive, plans are made and executed and many things are new, or at least new once again. Then on that August day, something changes. I cannot put my finger precisely on the nature of the change, but it is unmistakable and it often stops me momentarily in my tracks when it happens. For some reason I often associate it with the way the air seems to move and with the way it carries sound – I may notice something different in the sound of the breeze or the way it amplifies the sound of a cascade across a valley. There is something about the light that I think of as a kind of soft quality and a feeling that the color of the light might be a bit cooler. At about the same time I often notice certain other more concrete indications for the first time, too, such as the way that more of the corn lily plants start to become brown or even yellow and that grasses are less and less green and more and more brown.
I was not in the Sierra when it happened this year. This year, the past few months have not been a time for a lot of travel to places like the Sierra. I have only been to the Sierra on a single multi-day visit, and that was over a month ago. (Don’t worry – I will be going back soon!) So this year it happened at home, on a morning earlier this week – my birthday, actually – when I walked into our yard in the morning to take a look at the vegetable garden, and I notice that vague but unmistakable quality of light, quietness of the breeze, and softness of the atmosphere.
The calendar may say summer, and for more than a month to come, but I’m ready for autumn.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
Photographer and visual opportunist. Daily photos since 2005, plus articles, reviews, news, and ideas.
Manage Consent
To provide the best experiences, we use technologies like cookies to store and/or access device information. Consenting to these technologies will allow us to process data such as browsing behavior or unique IDs on this site. Not consenting or withdrawing consent, may adversely affect certain features and functions.
Functional
Always active
The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network.
Preferences
The technical storage or access is necessary for the legitimate purpose of storing preferences that are not requested by the subscriber or user.
Statistics
The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for statistical purposes.The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for anonymous statistical purposes. Without a subpoena, voluntary compliance on the part of your Internet Service Provider, or additional records from a third party, information stored or retrieved for this purpose alone cannot usually be used to identify you.
Marketing
The technical storage or access is required to create user profiles to send advertising, or to track the user on a website or across several websites for similar marketing purposes.
