The One-Hour Square Meter Photography Challenge!

Do you remember that square meter photography project I did? Twice?

Whew, that was a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong, it was more than worthwhile, but it was definitely a big commitment. I may try it again someday, but not right now.

I continue to enjoy writing and talking about those two year-long projects and I hope to have another product or two come from those initial efforts. In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about some variations on the same theme. I tested one of those last week. I went out to my family prairie and marked out a square meter. Then I spent one hour photographing everything I could find. It was fun!

Here’s the plot.
An aerial view of me at the plot.

What I like about the one-hour version of this project is that it’s very accessible. It’s accessible to me, of course, because I just need to commit 60 minutes of time. More importantly, though, it feels like something that just about anyone else could do, too.

One of the best aspects of this square meter plot story so far is that I’ve heard from a lot of people that they’re trying some version of the project in their backyard, a nearby prairie, or other places. Some people are getting their kids or friends involved, as well. That’s awesome.

However, I think some people are intimidated by the time commitment needed to revisit the same spot over and over. But, hey, everyone can find one hour of time, right?

Let’s see if that’s true. I’m issuing an official challenge – the One-Hour Square Meter Photography Challenge! Can you mark out a square meter and photograph (or draw, or write about) everything you can find in an hour? It doesn’t have to be in a prairie. It can be a potted plant or two on your apartment balcony. It can be a corner of your neighborhood park. Just find a little spot, settle in for an hour, and see what you can find!

What would really make this work is if everyone who does it could then share what they found with others. Post about it on social media! Share you photos (or drawings, or poems, or essays) with friends or at a meeting of your favorite civic organization or social group. Show people how amazing and beautiful nature can be, even at a small scale, and in places where others could find what you found.

Here’s my first attempt. Darker than expected clouds meant the photography light wasn’t great and slowed insect activity a little, but it was still a lot of fun. I will definitely be doing it again. I hope you will, too!

(If the two videos below don’t play, click on the title of this post (top of the page) to open it online.)

A hover fly.
A goldenrod soldier beetle – front facing.
A goldenrod soldier beetle – rear facing.

The big showy plants in the plot were definitely dotted gayfeather and stiff goldenrod. Their flowers were attracting lots of insects – some of which I managed to photograph. Right before I started, I saw a butterfly and a moth, but neither returned after I got my camera out.

Stiff goldenrod (Solidago rigida) and dotted gayfeather (Liatris punctata).
More stiff goldenrod.
Dotted gayfeather.

There were several grass species in the plot, with Indiangrass and sideoats grama being the most visually dominant.

Indiangrass (Sorghastrum nutans).
Sideoats grama (Bouteloua curtipendula).

One of the conundrums I faced was whether to spend time trying to photograph every plant species, including some very small plants, or to stay vigilant to pollinators and other insects coming and going from flowers. I tried some of both, but definitely missed a lot of shots because I was splitting my attention.

A small digger bee on dotted gayfeather.
A common eastern bumblebee.
A drone fly and soldier beetle share the same goldenrod flower head.
A two-striped grasshopper was feeding on goldenrod flowers.
Can you see the tiny insect (a bug) here? It’s right in the middle, but very well camouflaged.

The stiff goldenrod plants had leaf galls on them. Based one some observations and literature reading I did a few years ago (and blog post I wrote), I think the galls were created by a midge (a kind of fly) and a fungus working together.

These circles on stiff goldenrod leaves are galls of an insect that also contain (I think) a fungus.

Here are the plants I found when I spent time looking closely. I ended up photographing 15 plant species, which is a very reasonable number of species per square meter in this part of the world, and I’m sure there were more that I missed because I wasn’t trying to be comprehensive.

Pussytoes – an allelopathic plant (uses chemicals to suppress the growth of nearby plants).
Four more plant species. Clockwise from top left: western ragweed (Ambrosia psilostachya), heath aster (Aster ericoides), wild licorice (Glycyrrhiza lepidota), and whorled milkweed (Asclepias verticillata).
Three grasses and a sedge. Clockwise from top left: Little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium), purple lovegrass (Eragrostis pectinacea), sun sedge (Carex heliophila) and Scribner’s panic grass (Panicum oligosanthes).
Two non-native “weedy” plants, neither of which I am concerned about at our prairie. Top: Black medic (Medicago lupulina). Bottom: Sweet clover (Melilotus officinalis)
A tiny lynx spider (spiderling).
Tree cricket.
A treehopper, I think?
Damselfly.

As with my two year-long square meter efforts, the point of this one-hour exercise was not to do a full inventory of species in the plot. That said, I think I photographed 28 different species during the hour. I think that’s very respectable – especially given the dark clouds and the fact that I was experimenting for the first time with this one-hour timeframe. Those 28 species include 15 plants, 12 invertebrates (including the midge in the gall) and a fungus (in the gall). I might find out there were two drone fly species, which would bump the count up by one, but again, that’s not really the point of the project.

This one-hour project was really invigorating! It was easy to set up, easy (though a little frenetic) to do, and now it’s done. I really hope others will give it a try and report back on how it goes!

A Frosty Mountain Morning

Kim and I just got back from a week in the mountains of Colorado. As part of the trip, we camped several nights in the Lost Creek Wilderness. A year ago, we learned some lessons about how best to vacation together in the outdoors, and I think we applied those lessons well this year. We set up a base camp from which Kim had access to running trails and I could quickly access photographic opportunities when the light was good. It was a great week.

On the last morning of our trip, we awoke surrounded by frost. We were just under 10,000 feet in elevation, so I was surprised to see frost in July, but I also know enough about mountain weather that I probably should have been prepared for it. Regardless of my surprise, I was really happy to have the chance to photograph frosty flowers in the summer! I’d emerged from the tent in time to hike a little more than a mile to a spot I’d scouted the day before, and I arrived just as the sunlight did.

Monkshood flowers (Aconitum sp.) and cinquefoil shrubs at sunrise on a frosty morning.
Monkshood and frost
Another shot of from nearly the same spot, but without monkshood.

I spent the next couple hours scrambling around and trying to photograph the frost before it melted. Once the sun was above the distant ridge, the frost melted pretty quickly upon contact with sunlight, so I spent a lot of time following the edge of shade and sun – photographing flowers just after the sun hit them.

In my captions below, I’m guessing on identifications, so I’m staying fairly vague. Even then, I’m not guaranteeing accuracy. This is not my (geographic) area of expertise.

Shrubby cinquefoil (Potentilla fruticosa)? This was the dominant shrub in the landscape.
More of the same cinquefoil.
Swertia?
Frosty fleabane (Erigeron sp.)
More fleabane.

One of the great things about our chosen campsite and the surrounding area was that there wasn’t a lot of climbing to do when I wanted to explore and look for photo opportunities. Kim also appreciated that for her trail running. Both of us are used to the 1,800 foot elevation of east-central Nebraska. Even after several days of acclimating (not enough time), we weren’t really mountain-ready. Kim is in much better cardio shape than me, but even she wasn’t sprinting up any steep inclines.

That relative flatness meant that it didn’t take an excessive amount of time for me to fast-walk the trail to my intended destination before the sun appeared. Of course, because it was the mountains, sunrise doesn’t happen at sunrise, if you understand me. Official sunrise was at about 6am, but it took at least 30 minutes before the sun got high enough to clear the rocky ridges and trees all around me. The reason I went to this particular spot was that it was one of the first places in the valley the sun hit when it finally rose above the topography. (This is why I only visit the mountains and live in open prairie country where I can actually see the sun set and rise. Where there are actual stinking horizons.)

A different cinquefoil (Potentilla sp.)
The same cinquefoil as above – not the shrubby one.
Ice droplets and frost on a sedge leaf.

Prairie smoke is a wildflower that doesn’t show up in the prairies I frequent, so I’m always glad to visit sites where it lives. It’s one of my favorite plants to photograph, especially when the hairy seed head strands are covered with frost and dew.

Prairie smoke! (Geum triflorum)
More prairie smoke with an ice droplet in the middle.
A longhorn bee on prairie smoke, thawing out in the sun.
Droplets of melting frost on grass seed heads.
Bellflower (Campanula sp.)

As the sun rose higher and the frost started to melt and sublimate (a great term to look up if you don’t know it), fog started to rise from the ground and drift along the valley. I stood up and photographed the landscape for a while. It was nice to stretch my back a little after crouching and lying on the ground to get photos of frosty flowers.

Fog developed as the frost melted and sublimated.
More frosty fog.

By the time the fog dissipated, the sun was bright enough that photography was getting difficult, so I trekked back to camp. My feet were sodden but my spirits were high. I was ready to head back home to the prairie, but glad we’d come.