My
Early Morning Pass got me into the botanical garden hours before it officially
opened to the public. The daylily garden, running adjacent to a narrow pathway,
was at its peak. With no swarming throngs of curious onlookers to deal with, I
practically had the whole place to myself. The winds were light and the skies
were clear. I was prepared for a fruitful morning of uninterrupted flower
photography at the New York Botanical Garden.
Everything
was going perfectly, until a groundskeeper warned me that he was about to turn
on the sprinklers.
Say what now!?
Within
seconds, my tranquil “studio” was transformed into a virtual water-theme park.
Huge plumes of water shot high in the air, all over the place. I quickly gathered
my gear and retreated to a safe distance, then glumly watched all my plans for
the morning literally get washed away. The sprinklers were placed several feet
apart, leaving a few dry areas along the pathway. They were the portable,
oscillating type – producing neat arcs of gently rotating columns of water. As
I watched the water fall on the flowers, I started to notice a distinct
pattern. If the water rotated too far in one direction, the flowers looked like
they were in a torrential downpour. If it went too far in the other direction
it missed the flowers entirely. But, for just a few seconds during the cycle,
the water appeared as lightly falling rain. With a renewed sense of excitement
and urgency, I grabbed my tripod and carefully stepped into one of the dry
spots – setting up just inches outside of the water’s maximum reach. I zoomed
into a cluster of blooms situated in front of a shadowed hedge. This provided
the perfect backdrop to offset the backlit water and flowers.
At
this point, all that was left to do was to simply wait for the precise moment
in the cycle when the water was just right.
I
was amazed at the myriad of creative compositions available in this new and
unique environment. It was like photographing flowers again…for the first time.
I was actually disappointed when the sprinklers were finally turned off. All
that was fresh and new was now, once again, common and ordinary. I reluctantly
shifted gears and returned to shooting the pictures I had originally intended. Quite
frankly, it was somewhat of a letdown.
When
unexpected things happen, it’s important to have enough flexibility to keep the
creative juices flowing. Even more important, you need to be able to recognize
them as potential opportunities, rather than annoying obstacles. After all, a
lemon doesn’t always have to be sour.
F.M. Kearney is a fine art nature
photographer, specializing in unique floral and landscape images. To see more
of his work, please visit www.starlitecollection.com.
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