The photographs were taken on November 15th in Meiko.
This morning I walked for over two hours in Vaakkoi, starting well before sunrise. During the night the temperature dropped to -2 °C, so there was some frost, and a little bit of ice on the smaller lakes.
(Posting title is from the poem Why Poetry Cannot Be Skimmed by Jessica Jopp.)
We got a lot of rain today, and a little bit of snow. I commuted by bicycle, and got somewhat wet both in the morning and in the afternoon. I have got this year 1310 km on the bicycle.
On Monday evening I went with my daughter to a so-called family leisure center, where a couple of hundred children played, and the noise level was remarkable. Today I attended a concert where children produced another kind of noise, which was much more pleasant than on Monday. Tomorrow I'm planning to go for a long walk, to observe signs of spring, for example Corydalis.
The photographs were taken at lake Kotolampi on April 11th.
(Posting title is from the poem Deeply Morbid by Stevie Smith.)
During the last five days I have walked for 12 hours, in Tremanskärr, Luukki, Meiko and Vaakkoi. I'm much behind in processing the photographs, but here is a sample of photographs taken on Monday in Meiko, starting from the parking lot, circling around Kotolampi lake and going to lake Mustjärvi. Tomorrow I'm back at work, but maybe tomorrow evening I'll have some time to go through the remaining photographs.
(Posting title is from the poem Cabin by Anne Waldman.)
I went today for a walk in the forests at Meiko, and walked there for 3 hours 20 minutes, which was less than planned but enough for me. I walked along a circular route, starting from the parking lot near lake Meiko, going to lake Kotolampi, and from there to lake Mustjärvi.
Here I made the first change to my planned route, as there was too much snow in the valley east of the cliffs south of lake Mustlampi. I climbed back up on top of the cliff, to admire the view, and descended again down to the valley near lake Mustjärvi. I walked around lake Mustjärvi, and walked west from the west side of the lake along a stream which ends in an open swamp. Here there is a chain of swamps going to northwest direction, and I walked along the chain on the south side of the swamps.
I found a swamp with a little lake in the middle, and here I rested and ate picnic on the rocks warmed by the sun. There was a crane looking for lunch on the marsh, but so far away that my LX5 didn't have any hope of catching it in a photograph. I was feeling rather good, and ahead of schedule, so I decided to go further than I had planned, and thus I continued along the chain of swamps all the way to lake Tränuhals, which I have never before visited.
Here I decided to test my orienteering skills, walking across the forests of Dorgarn towards a path near lake Meiko. I set the map bearing to the compass, and selected along the direction of the travel arrow a landmark such as a tree or a rock, and walked there, and then selected a new landmark, walked there, etc.
At one spot I was climbing up a rocky hill and I almost stumbled on a tent erected there. Another tent was nearby. I didn't see anybody outside the tents, maybe they were exploring the nearby landscape.
When I got to the path I was aiming at I was abashed, as usually I tend to get a bit lost when walking in a forest. But this time, focusing on map reading and compass bearings, I got exactly where I was aiming at, a bend in the path, with a precision of 20 meters. Quite a surprise!
I was also ahead of schedule. I estimated that my walk would take less than three hours if I returned to the car via the path I was on. So, I decided to go south to lake Meiko, walk along the shore, and return to the parking lot from there. I was happily tired when I returned home.
I have 755 photographs waiting to be processed on the computer, but I'm too tired to do it right now. So here is a photograph taken on Saturday at Tremanskärr.
(Posting title is from the poem Pretty by Stevie Smith.)
Yesterday I was thinking of going for a walk at the Luukki forests, and even had planned a nice route for the walk, but the daughters said that they have been too often there, and thus we went to Meiko instead.
It wasn't bad at Meiko, in fact quite the opposite, and one of the pleasant surprises was that there was a nice walking path going to four different lakes in Meiko: Kotolampi, Kakarlampi, Immerlampi and Korsolampi. Or in fact, we went the opposite direction, starting from Korsolampi.
There is a path marked with orange tape, and people had walked the path frequently enough so that the snow was packed tight, and in some places even icy, and it was rather easy to walk, maybe even easier than during summer. We had picnic by lake Kakarlampi, looking at the snowy scenery, rather silent expect occasional sounds from a dog somewhere farther away.
We didn't see anyone else after leaving the parking lot, even though the parking lot was packed with cars. I guess that may have been due to people going ice fishing on the big Meiko lake.
(Posting title is from the poem Toward what island-home am I moving by Joanna Klink.)
Today I walked around five lakes in Meiko: Kotolampi, Mustjärvi, Kakarlampi, Immerlampi and Korsolampi. (Well, technically I only walked around four of these lakes, as I passed lake Kotolampi from the wrong side so that it was not inside my circular route.)
The walk took me two hours, and I took 372 photographs. The children stayed home this time, as the sickness with fever hasn't passed yet.
I took the opporturnity to make a longer walk than usual, using an orienteering map I got from a friend. I also took my old compass with me just in case, and I did use it on the return leg of the route, between lakes Mustjärvi and Kakarlampi. However, there was a convenient path there (although not on the map) and I didn't really need the compass.
There is quite a lot to explore at Meiko, although some parts are becoming already quite familiar. I tend to remember places where I have walked and got lost...
I met four people and six dogs during the walk, and I was the only one without a dog. Maybe this was due to weather. Maybe I got lucky, as it rained when I drove to Meiko, and also when I returned by car, but during my walk there wasn't much rain. Or I didn't notice it...
There was an interesting (and somewhat provocative) posting about artists and photographers at TOP yesterday. This definition was rather interesting: "I think an art photographer is a photographer with an opinion."
I don't think I would call myself a photographer if the term would be defined like this. I don't have an opinion. Or maybe it is more so that I do know that what I want to do with my photography is to get surprised, to see glimpses of the world I didn't realize before. But I don't have an opinion about my photographs.
Also, I'm not keen on showing only those photographs which are good. Most of my photographs suck. I delete 90-95 percent of my photographs right away, and of the remaining most still suck. But still I post them here. And the reason? To learn, to get a bit of feedback, to feel committed to taking photographs almost every day, and to be part of the community of photographers who show their work to others without claiming it is supreme. By failing we learn.
PS. Onion had some fun with people like me who take and post an excessive amount of photographs.
(Posting title is from the poem Paracelsus by Diane Di Prima.)
Today we walked around lake Kotolampi ("Home lake") in Meiko, after it had stopped raining. The dry weather was a positive surprise, as earlier the forecast had promised rain also during the weekend. During our walk the clouds got thinner and finally the sun appeared on the horizon.
This time we didn't get lost, as the second oldest daughter practised orienteering, and I and the oldest daughter took photographs with our cameras. I took about 400 photographs, and she took about 200, and not always of the same subjects.
We had picnic on the rocks north of the lake, and returned using a path we found there. In fact, the path was marked with orange-colored tags, and if we would have kept on the path no orienteering skills would have been necessary.
(Posting title is from the poem Information by David Ignatow.)
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