This one’s been sitting in my blog folder since June, waiting for an opportunity, and it will serve nicely in this interim until I get time for more substantial posts. The coneflowers clearly look a bit past peak, but the bees didn’t seem hampered by this, so it’s probably our perceptive biases.
This is another instance where the muted, low contrast light of a deep-haze/semi-overcast sky worked better for the colors than bright sunlight would have – there are more subtleties, less harshness. The shadows don’t become too deep, nor the highlights too bright. Once again, low contrast light for high contrast subjects, and vice versa; it also helps to have some pre-programmed settings on the camera that will assist in those directions, ones you can switch to instantly. This way, you can change subject matter more often without having to return when the light is better.
Above, a green sea turtle (Chelonia mydas) during its veterinary exam – I did not think to check the info board on this one to find out what the missing forelimb was attributed to; while many injuries to sea turtles come through encounters with boats, fishing gear, and garbage, wounds of this nature are often caused by sharks, which can target the limbs easier than the armored torso. Many of the shark attacks on humans come from the exact same trait, as sharks see the arms and legs of surfers dangling in the water to either side of a surfboard from underneath, and register the silhouette as a turtle. Most such injuries to humans are bite-and-release, not because the sharks are as sporting as fishermen (or at least we don’t think so,) but because the taste and texture is all wrong and sharks don’t consider humans as a food source.
Meanwhile, I haven’t the faintest idea who this is, but she was posed enigmatically on the railing as I approached the fishing pier on the north end of the island, so I positioned myself for the best framing I could, lucky enough that no one else was visible on the pier at the time but unlucky enough not to have any rich colors extending to the sky behind her. It’s a useful illustration of how photography often works; the pier had plenty of people on it, mostly night fishermen, but without capturing any it appears completely empty and the isolation of the lone woman is paramount. Yet, when compared against the other images taken the same evening, these colors seem flat, but had you not seen those, you probably would not have been aware of any lack and could accept the delicate sky as it was.
As it ambled along, I saw a rolled leaf in the middle distance (for a small spider, at least) ahead of it, and suspected that this was its destination. Unwilling to disappoint me, the spider quickly made its way up the stem in question and disappeared into the rolled leaf, appearing briefly at the other side long enough for me to fire off a shot. Some spiders make breeding nests out of rolled leaves, 
I’ll also take this opportunity to illustrate a simple but important, and often forgotten, facet of macro photography. As I did some portraits of the other mantis since it was slightly more cooperative, I was able to do some comparison shots. Both of these were taken only moments apart without the mantis moving more than a fraction; the difference comes from my position. I saw the antenna falling in front of one compound eye, as well as the leaf in the immediate background lining up right behind the mantis’ head, and shifted position slightly, framing the head against darkness instead and dropping below the antenna – the change also allowed the flash to illuminate the forelegs better. Such a trivial amount of effort to significantly improve the photo, and all it takes is an awareness of the background (including knowing that it will become sharper as the aperture closes down.) Increasing contrast at the point of focus always helps draw the viewer’s eye, done in this case by framing the bright green head against the blackness instead of the green leaves, and the complementary lines of leaves and mantis body are a nice bonus. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t consider this high art, but it’s a nice comparison illustration, and the more of this you can accomplish the stronger your images will be.
By this time I had the camera ready, and did a quick photo session with the transplant, who may or may not decide to remain in the area; either way, it has much better access to food, shelter, and potential mates than the interior of Home Depot. Treefrogs do not spend much time at all in the water, but they do need to remain moist, and will deposit their eggs in or near the water so the hatching tadpoles are in the right environment. I’m fairly certain we had a grey treefrog hatching last year, and at present there are five juvenile green frogs (Lithobates clamitans, the more aquatic and non-tree-climbing cousins) living within the pond, though the tadpoles seem to have vanished quickly for unknown reasons. We’ll just have to see what happens.
… but then I rotate them and say to myself, You know, I think they go this way. I mean, if you want the most accurate rendition for these images, the first thing you’d have to do is lay your monitor back almost flat, since I was probably aiming largely downward from above, but that’s the best I can tell you. And if I’m having this much trouble knowing, then it likely doesn’t make any difference – pick the orientation that you like best and boom, you got the right one as far as I’m concerned.
Friday evening, the rain decided to throw down (it was certainly much harder than falling,) and typically for the weather we’re having this year, it passed quickly. As the sun returned, I checked to see if we were having a rainbow, but saw nothing. Turns out it was only being fashionably late, and wasn’t terribly bright when it arrived, but as The Girlfriend and I looked towards the top of the arc, we could distinctly see something that I first witnessed 
This is the same image, but with saturation thrown way the hell up – there will be another version at the bottom of this post. Now the additional bands below the main bow are plainly visible, reducing in width and starting to give a three-dimensional effect, as if numerous bows were stacked alongside one another into the distance, and we’re seeing their undersides. This is not the case, since rainbows are an optical phenomenon of light 