Autumn in New England, Autumn in NH, Autumn in the White Mountains, Family Memories, Family Time, Foliage in New England, Leaf Peeping in New England, Memories, Quality Time, Road Trips in New England
My Father and I have a tradition. Every year, for his October birthday, we take a road trip to photograph New England’s splendid foliage. Some years that means we go North, some years south, or where ever the best color is at that time. This year, we headed north, to the White Mountains.
We were fortunate that the weather cooperated. It was one of those ‘perfect New England autumn days’. The sun soon rose from the fog drenched fields and the icy rivers, to reveal a day saturated in color contrasts. Shapes emerged eerily at first from the misty background of nature…
Dad and I have differing opinions about what a great autumn color photo looks like. I am content with the more muted, woven tapestry shades of fall leaves blended together wrapped around a hillside or forming a backdrop for a village church, covered bridge or farm house.
I think the light through the trees is interesting, as is the contrast between birch trunks and autumn leaves. I really like the look of leaves scattered on pathways and on water.
The autumn color was more intense as we drove northward on a series of back winding roads, but the ratio of conifers was higher as we went north as well. This made the contrast between the deep green and the more isolated golds, rusts and crimsons all the most striking.
As the day cleared, the vistas stretched further across the valleys, sometimes for miles. We stopped whenever we spotted interesting color. We had a rough travel plan in mind but changed course a few times during the day on a whim. We incorporated a couple of notches and multiple small towns and villages.
In early afternoon, we found an ideal location for our picnic, the Dolly Copp picnic grounds just south of Gorham NH. There was a covered pole barn-like structure there that protected several tables from the rain and in our case, the sun. An enormous field stone fireplace stretched along one wall. We had the place to ourselves and the sound of the stream, literally, a stone’s throw away. and a myriad of birdsong was the music that accompanied our meal.