It’s tricky. Sometimes you can see them and sometimes you can’t. But once you do, you can’t unsee them. I’m talking faces. Faces and other features, mimicked in rock outcroppings or trees.
Can you see a fish face in these rocks?
I’m on the road this week. Since I am visiting Face Rock State Scenic Viewpoint in Bandon, Oregon today, I thought it might be fun to share a few of my images with “spirit people’ in them with you.
I know I’ve published this one before, but it’s such a perfect “tree spirit”.
Face Rock even has a Native American legend attached to it, so a lot of people have given this sea stack human attributes over the ages. Even so, I had a real hard time seeing the face at first. It’s a nasty, stormy day with gray, flat light that doesn’t bring out the shadows that usually make this rock so distinctive. If you are also having trouble seeing a resemblance to a face, too, the profile is on the right side and she’s looking up towards the sky.
This is Face Rock. If you can’t see the face, it’s a profile on the right, looking up at the sky.
Sometimes these faces are very well known. The Old Man of the Mountain in Franconia, New Hampshire was even a state symbol, printed on the license plates, until erosion did it in about 20 years ago.
That’s the thing about these features. Like the humans they resemble, they are ephemeral, although their life spans are generally much longer than ours!
I saw this one very clearly when I shot it, but it didn’t translate so well. If you can’t see the face, here’s a hint – the black spot is an eye and the sawed off branch is a medallion on his headdress. That’s how I first saw it, though in this picture it looks like the sawed-off branch could be his eye, too.
Occasionally, I take a photo and find the “spirit face” in it after I process the image, having never noticed it when I took the original photograph. Has that ever happened to you? My feature photo is one like that. If you can’t see the face, it’s in the lower middle of the image and looks like a gremlin.
Peek-A-Boo!
I spent a winter in Hawaii many, many years ago, back in my film photography days. I found spirit faces everywhere in those images when I had them developed! By secret waterfalls, in sacred caves…..it was spooky! There’s more going on out there in the world than our mere human senses will ever fully discern or understand. (Twilight Zone theme)
Fiona’s (Shrek) legs
I find this last image quite remarkable. I hope it doesn’t offend any of you. The tree grew like this naturally, a mother Madrone in the Siskiyou Mountains of southern Oregon. I have not changed it in any way. This tree could make you believe in the old Greek myths where young girls pursued by lecherous gods were transformed into nymphs and dryads by jealous goddesses.
A dryad turned into a tree
I hope you have fun with the resemblances in my post this week. Thank you, Donna of Wind Kisses, for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, “It’s Tricky.”
I’m in love with the madrone and manzanita trees. I’ve never spent time with these trees before, but now that I have, I just can’t get enough of them! Both so beautiful, and similar in so many ways. Sister trees.
Literally, sister trees. Similar in so many ways that many people cannot tell the difference. But the differences are there for those who look a little closer. One golden, one auburn.
Sister trees – one blonde, one a redhead. Can you tell the difference?
You know those greek myths about trees transforming into nymphs and other, generally feminine, supernatural creatures? Well, growing up in Colorado I never could really envision the nymph thing. Our trees grew straight and tall. An aspen does not look like a dryad. But here…
I can see people in these trees. Not faces so much, though there are a few. But bodies. Feminine bodies.
Not many faces in this forest, but I did see this one. Kind of Halloweeney.
My friend Michelle says that these trees are sexy. And they are. Graceful and curvaceous, they twist and weave, each tree unique, each dancing its own dance. Their sculpted branches, like fingers, beckon you closer, closer, inviting you to touch their smooth, perfect skin.
Sexy trees.
In tones of gold and burgundy, their bark is beautiful. Smooth, burnished, just begging to be stroked. Petite, wine-colored manzanitas are completely smooth from top to bottom. Patches and streaks of gray give character, indicating a life long lived.
Manzanita bark just begs to be touched.
The taller madrones have bits of rougher bark tapering into the smooth, peeling and shredding like rags clinging to their golden skin.
Madrone bark is a little rougher.
Foliose and fruticose lichens decorate the scars of discarded branches along their trunks. Epiphytic lichens drape the limbs of all the residents of these groves, even the oaks, accenting their elegant forms.
Lots of lichens decorate these trees, especially the manzanitas
The leaves are simple, almost an afterthought. Thick, waxy, evergreen leaves cluster at the tips of the branches, revealing long, flowing lines. But leaves are not all you’ll find at the tips of these branches.
Both madrone and manzanita trees fruit. Manzanita means “little apple” in Spanish. Another name for the madrone is the strawberry tree, though their berries do not resemble or taste like strawberries at all! They do not fruit every year. But I got lucky. This year was a big one for the madrones. They are covered with massive amounts of small, reddish-orange berries.
It’s a big year for madrone berries in the Applegate Valley.
The birds made a big impression on me when I first arrived here on the farm. A brilliant cacophony greeted me every morning. And I saw unbelievably huge flocks of robins. On some mornings, hundreds of robins filled the fields surrounding the house. It seemed to me that every robin in Alaska came down to Williams to spend the winter! I hear it’s not like that every year. They’re here for the madrone berries. Other birds, too, for instance, mourning doves, are attracted by the bumper crop of berries this year.
Madrone means “indulgent mother” in Spanish, and the madrone provides. Not only birds feast on the madrone crop. Raccoons, deer, bears, and even people eat madrone berries. Although they are kind of mealy and not sweet, indigenous peoples would eat them and make cider from the berries.
Madrone forest
Madrone trees provide in other ways, too. They’re susceptible to funguses and plant diseases that cause heart rot, so cavities form easily. These cavities provide homes for many creatures.
Madrone and manzanita trees were both valued by indigenous peoples for a number of medicinal uses. For instance, one of the things I dislike about this habitat is the prevalence of poison oak. A tisane of manzanita bark can be used to soothe the rash caused by poison oak!
Manzanita bark can be used to combat poison oak.
The foggy climate of the Pacific Northwest helps to create an air of enchantment in the madrone-manzanita woodlands. It truly is a magical place to take a walk.
If you would like to take a walk in these woodlands yourself and you are in Oregon’s Applegate Valley, here are a few suggestions. In the Williams area, my favorite walk is at Pacifica. This is where my friend Michelle McAfee first introduced me to these beauties. In the Grants Pass area, Cathedral Hills is a favorite. There are lots of trails here with incredible trees. You might start with the Skyline Trail. In Jacksonville, head on up to the Jacksonville Forest Park and check out the Halls of Manzanita Trail.
All sorts of interesting details on these trees. Each one is unique.
These are just a few of the places where you’ll find these incredible trees. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!
