Here in the northeast USA tonight, we're having light snow, the beginning of the Nor'easter that's supposed to pack a wallop for tomorrow. The air is damp and raw and the cloud cover is thick and low in the night sky. I guess I was missing the warmth and light of summer, and decided to post this photo.
Summer has its own dynamic, as you know, so different from what's going on here tonight. Not cycles of ice and snow, but of sunny days interspersed with rainy ones. And usually, the heat and humidity are present and at least a little oppressive.
The life of a lake has its own moods and nuances. On this lake in the Sebago region of Maine, you can see and feel a squall coming well before a stiff wind out of the White Mountains blows in across the lake, creating whitecaps and a chaos of water textures. Loons often set up a raucous ceremony of plaintive calls across the water, as if warning their wayward partners to head back to the nest. If it's a thunderstorm that's looming, giant thunderheads pile like fortresses in the sky over the lake, well before the deafening booms shake the forest. When the sky opens, the rain sizzles as it hits the churning lake surface. The far shore is hidden by a heaving curtain of heavy, pelting droplets, and it's easy to lose perspective and orientation if you're stuck out in it.
In this photo the storm hasn't quite materialized yet, over this Maine lake. The ridge of trees glows in the afternoon sunlight as the sky turns dark behind it. I love the contrast between the darkening sky and the illumined tree trunks, and how the texture and color stand out on both the trunks and foliage. Ah, how I would enjoy the drama of a passing thunderstorm tonight, instead of the ice and snow. Guess I'm getting old!
"Lake-Island Arbor Before the Squall" is available for purchase at www.lyndalehmann.com. Image and text c 2007 Lynda Lehmann.