November steps in with its dim days, but we won’t let the darkness get us down. The theme for the first week of the challenge is Shadows and Stillness. Let’s embrace the peace of November, the beauty of shadows, and a slower pace.
This curly dock dried in autumn (Rumex crispus) is a good representation of November. The plant has dried standing upright into a brownish-red “stick”, which is typical for docks in autumn and winter. A dense, leafless flower panicle, in which the fruiting calyces at the seed stage have taken on an autumnal reddish-brown hue. Often found on shores, roadsides or stony shores.
This curly dock dried in autumn is a good representation of November.
I took this yesterday by the sea in Espoo, the moment was moody and the wind so cold , but that is what it is, so there is nothing else to do but embrace the day as it was.
Add the link to your posts in the ThinkLinkz widget in Lepis blog How to survive November 2026 the right sidebar for all of us to enjoy.
Many thanks to Sarah for being such a creative host! Please have a look at her well thought out post about her chosen topic , to be honest I have not given triangles much thought, explore her gallery of stunning photographs — you’ll be so glad you did, you will be inspired.
I was sure I would not find any, but I went to the harbour In Kivenlahti yesterday, and what do I see… triangles. Did my subconscious take me there as I wondered if I would find anything for this? Or Church in Porvoo… few days ago.
Sailboats rest in a harbor beneath dramatic, layered clouds in striking black and white.
Sailboats and motorboats rest at a peaceful marina beneath November’s, cloud-filled skies.
The Porvoo historic church interior with an ornate painted vaulted ceiling, tall arched window, and crucifix beneath a chandelier.
How to Survive November: Week 1 – Shadows and Stillness 🌑✨
Lepis is hosting, It starts today! November steps in with its dim days, but we won’t let the darkness get us down.
The theme for the first week of the challenge is Shadows and Stillness. Let’s embrace the peace of November, the beauty of shadows, and a slower pace.
A leafless lakeside tree and perched bird stand silhouetted against dramatic storm clouds and a golden break in the sky.
I took this today by the sea in Espoo, the moment was moody and the wind so cold , but that is what it is, so there is nothing else to do but embrace the day as it was.
Bare winter trees stand silhouetted against a dramatic, storm-filled sky as light breaks through the clouds.
Add the link to your posts in the ThinkLinkz widget in Lepis blog How to survive November 2026 the right sidebar for all of us to enjoy.
How to Survive November: Week 1 – Shadows and Stillness 🌑✨
Lepis is hosting, It starts today! November steps in with its dim days, but we won’t let the darkness get us down this year either—instead,we welcome it with creativity.
The theme for the first week of the challenge is Shadows and Stillness. Before rushing toward the light, let’s pause for a moment. What does darkness look like, feel like, or sound like? Let’s embrace the peace of November, the beauty of shadows, and a slower pace.
A weathered black metal cross rises from a lichen-covered stone sphere in a quiet, wintry cemetery.
Add the link to your posts in the ThinkLinkz widget in Lepis blog How to survive November 2026 the right sidebar for all of us to enjoy.
How are you welcoming the first days of November?
I took this yesterday in Porvoo, the day was dark so there is nothing else to do but embrace the day as it was.
How to Survive November: Week 1 – Shadows and Stillness 🌑✨
Lepis is hosting, It starts today! November steps in with its dim days, but we won’t let the darkness get us down this year either—instead,we welcome it with creativity.
The theme for the first week of the challenge is Shadows and Stillness. Before rushing toward the light, let’s pause for a moment. What does darkness look like, feel like, or sound like? Let’s embrace the peace of November, the beauty of shadows, and a slower pace.
How to participate this week? Share a photo, poem, drawing, video, or even a soundscape that portrays shadows,silence, or stillness. It can be a moody photo, an autumnal line of poetry, or a quick sketch.
You can join in every day, a few days a week, or just once a week – the choice is yours.
Add the link to your posts in the ThinkLinkz widget on the right sidebar for all of us to enjoy.
Quiet morning. Frost layered on the ground, cool air brushing bare skin.
Soft gold spills over the branches, no wind— only the deep stillness of a white veil drawn across the earth.
Above it all, an unbroken blue of sky.
Golden autumn birches surround a small garden greenhouse beneath a clear blue morning sky.
Frost-covered grasses and slender birch trees glow with soft winter light in a tranquil woodland scene.
A frost-covered meadow glows in the soft morning light beneath a colorful autumn forest.
Frost holds the meadow in a silver hush, blades of grass hardened into glass by the first thin light.
Soft morning pours itself over hollow and rise, spilling warmth in silence along the furrowed ground, where long streaks of sunlight stripe the open field like slow, golden rivers unfolding toward the day.
At the edge of vision the autumn forest gathers, breathing out orange sighs and tender pastel embers, leaves lifting and drifting against the chill air, small fires of color burning quiet and low.
Far above the stillness, where sound thins into memory, migrating birds cross the pale sky in a dark, moving script, tracing the turning season over the frost-bound earth and carrying morning forward on the strength of their unseen song.
I am just leaving this for you to see as I join in this week’s Monochrome Madness . It’s another small moment from my everyday surroundings, seen a little differently once everything is stripped back to light, shadow, and texture. I’m quietly adding it here without much explanation, and letting the tones and details speak for themselves.
A quiet autumn lane curves past a weathered wooden house, framed by tall trees and golden fallen leaves.
A quiet autumn road curves beneath towering trees, scattered golden leaves, and a rustic picket fence.
John’s theme is really not my thing, that is obvious as you read on – Monuments. Here is some information about iconic monuments in Helsinki. I haven’t taken any of these photos with the statue as the main subject: the National Memorial to the Winter War shot was to capture the lights of the LUX festival of lights one year, and I photographed poet Johan Ludvig Runeberg because of the seagull on his head. Now I’m sharing suggestions on what to see if you’re interested in monuments in Helsinki.
I’ve walked past the Three Smiths Statue (Kolmen sepän patsas) on Kolmensepänaukio in the heart of Helsinki; Felix Nylund’s three blacksmiths hammering on an anvil perfectly capture Finland’s cooperative and hardworking spirit, but I’ve only ever hurried past with my camera still in my bag. I did take a photo of a drummer in front of it, I have shared that with you before. When I really looked at photos of the area on my phone, I found a shot were it is, but it was not intentionally there.
I’ve also seen the Equestrian Statue of Marshal Mannerheim (Marsalkka Mannerheimin ratsastajapatsas) along Mannerheimintie countless times. This massive bronze monument by Aimo Tukiainen, honoring Marshal Carl Gustaf Emil Mannerheim, is such a prominent part of the cityscape, yet I’ve never really paused to frame it thoughtfully through my lens. The Lantern Bearers (Lyhdynkantajat) at the entrance to the Helsinki Central Railway Station are another example; carved from Finnish granite by Emil Wikström in 1914, those four figures holding glowing globes greet me almost every time I pass the station, but I’ve somehow never taken the time to take a shot. I have several shots of the railway station, but not from the front. What is wrong with me?
In front of the Finnish National Theatre on Rautatientori, the Aleksis Kivi Memorial (Aleksis Kiven muistomerkki) by Wäinö Aaltonen has become such a familiar sight that I sometimes forget how significant it is, honoring Finland’s national author—yet I still don’t have a single carefully composed photograph of it. The same is true for Aaltonen’s Paavo Nurmi Statue, a classic bronze sculpture of the legendary Finnish Olympic runner and a powerful symbol of our sports history, which I’ve admired in passing but never photographed.
I’ve driven past the Sibelius Monument (Sibelius-monumentti) in Sibelius Park more times than I can count. This abstract metal sculpture by Eila Hiltunen, with its more than 600 welded hollow steel pipes and the separate bronze bust of Jean Sibelius, has always impressed me, yet I never really stopped to photograph it properly.
This may come as a surprise, but I actually took this shot of the National Memorial to the Winter War at Kasarmitori. It’s a contemporary memorial to the soldiers and citizens who defended Finland during the Winter War of 1939–1940, and I remember standing there quietly, reflecting on its meaning before finally deciding to turn that moment into a photograph. And I took it in during night time as it was nicely lit.
National Memorial to the Winter War
I’ve photographed this one from the side, but I’m counting it anyway: the statue of our national poet, Johan Ludvig Runeberg. Sculptor was Walter Runeberg (the writer’s son). First revealed to the public: 1885. Located in Esplanadi Park, Helsinki. The pedestal carries the proud inscription “The Finnish people to the singer of our national anthem”, accompanied by an allegorical figure of the Finnish Maiden, watching over the park.
National poet Johan Ludvig Runeberg
This statue’s really just in the frame to help shape the shot—what I’m actually looking here at the sunrise on my way to work several years back. The photo shows the famous Havis Amanda fountain, located next to the Market Square (Kauppatori) in downtown Helsinki. Affectionately known by locals as “Manta”, the statue is the absolute focal point of the city’s annual Vappu (May Day) celebrations, during which university students ceremonially wash the statue and crown it with a giant student cap. Sculpted by the prominent Finnish artist Ville Vallgren in Paris in 1906, it was unveiled at its current site in 1908. The central bronze figure depicts a nude sea nymph or mermaid rising from the water, which Vallgren designed to symbolize the rebirth and growth of Helsinki rising from the sea. The granite fountain base features four decorative sea lions spraying water.
Havis Amanda Fountain
It is the oldest public monument in Helsinki, erected in 1835. It stands directly by the waterfront at the Market Square, looking out towards the harbor where several passenger ferries and sightseeing waterbuses dock. It was designed by the famous architect Carl Ludvig Engel to commemorate Empress Alexandra Feodorovna’s (the wife of Tsar Nicholas I) first visit to the city. The monument consists of a red granite obelisk topped with a gilded bronze globe and a double-headed eagle, which was the symbol of imperial Russia.
The Stone of the Empress (Keisarinnankivi) located at the Market Square (Kauppatori) in Helsinki, Finland.
The images show Helsinki Cathedral and the Senate Square in front of it, as well as the the main statue statue of Emperor Alexander II, the Russian emperor who was also Grand Duke of Finland. He’s shown in the uniform of a Finnish Guards officer, right in the middle of giving a speech to the Diet of Finland back in 1863. The monument was put up in 1894 to thank him for the freedoms he brought to Finland—things like more cultural and political autonomy, raising the status of the Finnish language, and even introducing the Finnish markka as its own currency. The red granite base is one of my favorite parts: around it you’ll see four smaller figures that each stand for something important in society—Law (Lex, shown as the Maiden of Finland wearing a bearskin and with her lion), Work (Labor), Peace (Pax), and Light or Science (Lux).
What really struck me, knowing the history, is how this statue later became a quiet symbol of resistance. During the harsh Russification policies under Nicholas II from 1899 onward, people would gather here and lay wreaths and flowers at Alexander II’s feet to remind everyone of the more liberal reforms his grandfather had brought to Finland.
I’ve chosen six site’s in Helsinki that show some of our statues. Now it’s your turn — Be sure to link to to Johns post in the the comments section and tag your entry with “Lens-Artists” so we can find it.
Last week, Tina’s challenge had many of us wandering down memory lane together. Next week it’s Sofia’s turn to lead us on, and you can follow along here so you don’t miss her challenge when it goes live on Saturday, October 31, at noon Eastern Time.
Until then, let’s keep exploring, broadening our horizons, and maintaining a positive mindset
The track had turned to mud by late October, curving away between the last of the fields and the first dark ranks of forest. At her feet a broad puddle held the world upside down, catching the bare birch branches and the textured gray-blue sky in a trembling mirror. Ahead, the low sun poured a warm, golden light over the rough grasses and the few stubborn leaves still clinging to the trees, setting the pale trunks aglow against the cool, gathering clouds. Birches rose in pale columns beside the brooding pines, their layered silhouettes closing in as the path slipped deeper into the woods, and the quiet air seemed to thicken with a hushed, cinematic stillness, as if the scene itself were pausing for breath before whatever might come next.
A muddy forest path reflects the autumn trees and dramatic clouds in a puddle glowing with golden light.
Golden sunlight warms a lace-curtained window, patterned candleholders, and a vase of autumn berries. I watch the sunlight stream through the window – at first it spills in softly, wrapping everything in a gentle, honeyed glow so that the lace looks almost weightless and the glass of the candleholders seems to hum with warmth. As I begin to adjust the light and contrast, the bright gold recedes and the shadows deepen; the edges grow crisper, the berries darken to a richer red, and the folds of the curtain gain a quiet drama. The same scene that felt cozy and sunlit takes on a more introspective, almost cinematic mood, as if a story is about to unfold just outside the frame. I don’t know which I prefer most. Initially, my eye is drawn to the shadows of the vase; I like how the shadow enhances the shape of the vase, and it does not take much for me to press the shutter.
Warm afternoon light filters through lace curtains onto a vase of berries and elegant accents by the window.Golden sunlight warms a lace-curtained window, patterned candleholders, and a vase of autumn berries.
I took these half-moon shots when I stepped out behind our house. The moon was nice and low, so I was able to capture these images of the October half-moon just before sunset. A golden half-moon rises above a quiet forest and meadow beneath a glowing twilight sky. I adjusted them slightly by changing the lighting point and framing, and the closer I framed, the more the story changed—the locations shifted within the narrative of the image.
A golden half moon rises above a quiet forest and meadow beneath a glowing twilight sky.
A serene forest meadow glows beneath a warm evening sky, with the half moon rising above the pine trees.
A glowing half moon rises above a shadowy pine forest and quiet meadow at dusk.
A golden half moon rises above a dark pine forest beneath a softly glowing pink evening sky. How framing can change the narrative of the image.
Poem By Christina Rossetti
The Half Moon
The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness Ready and poised to wax or wane; A fire of pale desire in incompleteness, Tending to pleasure or to pain:– Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness To perfect loss or perfect gain.
Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness; This world is all on wax, on wane: When shall completeness round time’s incompleteness, Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?– Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness To finished loss or finished gain.
Leanne asked if I was interested in hosting Monochrome Madness and I happily said yes, because I do love monochrome/black and white photography. It has timelessness and style to it that I really appreciate. Here is my Challenge to you – Low Light
Whether it’s the shimmer of urban lights, a softly lit portrait, or a scene bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight, I invite you to explore how low light can craft atmosphere and narrate a story. This is your opportunity to demonstrate how shadows, highlights, and delicate light sources can elevate an everyday moment into something dramatic and memorable. Seek out instances when the light dims and transforms the ambiance. Experiment with reflections, silhouettes, contrast, long exposures, and available light to realize your vision.
Here are some inspirational images, looking forward to seeing yours.
A quiet snow-covered road illuminated by a single streetlight, surrounded by tall trees at night.Helsinki – Töölö in autumn evening and apartment lights
Take your camera, welcome the shadows, and capture images that are atmospheric, imaginative, and visually compelling. Or use your archives. We look forward to seeing your finest low-light photographs—just three images, each featuring a unique subject, when the lights start to dim. I imposed a limit of three photos across three distinct topics, that way it is easier to concentrate on all the images in the post.
A cyclist crosses wet streetcar tracks at night as a light-rail train and traffic streak through the city intersection.
Urban and portrait photography came relatively easy for me, but capturing nature in low light proved to be challenging.
Helsinki at night on a cold windy night by the sea
I struggled to achieve the moody effect I wanted during sunset. The bright summer nights aren’t ideal for creating dark contrasts. I attempted multiple edits, including altering the sky in one photo. However, winter nights present a completely different scenario.
The moon illuminates a quiet lakeside town, rocky hillside, and shimmering reflections beneath drifting clouds.
A black and white close-up portrait of a man deep in thought, with hands clasped near his face and expressive shadows highlighting his features.
Link your post to mine and Leanne’s post also add Monochrome Madness tag so others can find it in the reader
Am ending this post with this haunting forest scene , it shows a solitary figure beneath towering trees and misty, ghostlike textures. Taken on a evening walk beneath the trees in Helsinki
a warmly lit stone interior with an arched window,
In the first image, I enjoyed the view to a warmly lit stone interior with an arched window, rustic leather seating, and potted dried grasses that soften the space with their earthy tones. The light filters gently through the window, casting a warm glow on the rough stone walls and making the whole corner feel intimate and inviting, like a quiet hideaway tucked below street level.
In the other image, I wanted to capture the rustic dining nook dressed in soft blue table linens, with simple candleholders set along the table. Beyond the vintage windows, a sunlit forest opens up, with trees catching the light and creating a peaceful backdrop. Both images are from basement cafés, and together they capture the cozy, sheltered feeling of being below ground while still staying connected to the world outside through those beautiful old windows.
Macro Monday – first frost photography of the year. The delicate frost crystals transform even the simplest plants into something very festive, highlighting every edge and texture and catching the soft, cold morning light.
The first two images show the green leaves of lady’s mantle (Alchemilla), their surfaces covered with delicate frost and sharp ice crystals that trace the edges and veins of each leaf. The crystals catch the light and give the leaves a subtle, shimmering texture that emphasizes their soft, rounded shapes. The third image focuses on sunlit grass and a Wood Cranesbill leaf, where the low, warm sunlight filters through the blades and leaf surface, revealing fine details, gentle color shifts, and the contrast between lingering moisture and the first signs of frost.
A delicate layer of frost crystals blankets green leaves, grass, and fallen autumn foliage.
Sunlit frost crystals shimmer across a patch of wild green leaves and grass.
Sunlit grass and Wood Cranesbill leaf sparkle under a delicate layer of frost.
For John’s CellPic Sunday I am posting photos from this weekend. We have had weather from rain to drizzle, to partly sunny moments, to morning frost. It should not be a surprise where these are taken; we named this place Mettänen (it means wooded) 31 years ago. Back then it had lots of trees on it, but it is a relatively small lot of land. Nowadays it has become much less wooded, but the name still describes it rather well. As you know if you have been reading my posts regularly, my grievance has been the tree we had to cut down; after this weekend only two big stumps from our birch trees remain. The branches went up in the smoke in the air someone was very busy.
The water puddles in the road gave really nice reflections, the morning mist and smoke added a nice touch to the scene, at least I thought so.
We did wake later this morning—it is Sunday—so most of the frost had begun to thaw, but there were still some to be found around ten in the morning. There is no escaping it, winter is coming in slow steps.
At Mettänen we had a really wonderful night sky last night, and I once again tested my iPhone’s capability to capture the stars. I am amazed by what it can do—the sky was so clear, the stars were sharp and bright, and the whole scene felt almost magical. The October night sky in all it’s glory.
“Memory” by Barbra Streisand started to play in my head… or was it the song from *Cats*, or perhaps both at once? When I saw the theme Tina had chosen for this week, the word itself seemed to echo, bringing back so many moments I thought I had forgotten. Memory, all alone in the moonlight… As the melody lingered, images from the past unfolded like old photographs—fleeting, fragile, yet deeply comforting in their familiarity.
Midnight Not a sound from the pavement Has the moon lost her memory? She is smiling alone In the lamplight The withered leaves collect at my feet And the wind begins to moan
A solitary pedestrian walks beneath a glowing street lamp on a quiet, moonlit autumn evening.
Love is many, many things… This song in the movie moved me to tears—a good cry, really. I was a teenager living in Australia. I remember watching it with my older sister, and with that memory comes another time when we would fight about what to watch on TV, her locking me out of the house so she could watch her show. I remember the room, the wallpaper… The song starts like this:
Love is a many-splendored thing, It's the April rose that only grows in the early spring.Love is nature's way of giving a reason to be living
April rose that only grows in the early spring.
I have such fond memories of all the moments when roses have been given to me. I received them at my confirmation, I carried them in my wedding bouquet, Mother’s Day roses have become a beloved tradition to many, and friends often bring them when they come to visit. Photographing flowers and roses feels like a natural extension of these memories—every petal, color, and soft curve…, and through the lens I get to relive the joy, love, and warmth of those moments
Right now I feel a bit lost about which direction to take with this post: should I write about songs that have memories attached to them, or share photos and pair them with songs? Most images I have carry some kind of memory imprinted in them, like little anchors to moments I thought I had forgotten. My mind keeps wandering in different directions – travels, homes, our boys, the everyday scenes and the in‑between moments that quietly shaped us. Part of me wants to follow one clear path, but another part wants to let all these threads weave together, to see what kind of story they tell when I place the music, the photographs, and the memories side by side.
My mum and dad – young and in love. A young sailor and shop assistant
The Marvelettes – When you’re Young and in Love
Spring in the air (filled with love) There’s magic everywhere When you’re young and in love
Life seems to be (just a dream) A world of fantasy When you’re young and in love
The two of us together in a sunny Mexican market street beneath a Spanish-language unity sign. My boyfriend had such a baby face – and he had, and still has, much better legs than I do. By the way, these days he would be the one carrying those blankets, not me. We still have those blankets.
Back in 2013, we visited British Columbia, Canada. My sister lived in Fort Langley, and there, or somewhere nearby, we saw the eagles… such a great sighting and memory. These photos from our visits bring back memories, and, well, I miss her. She was the one who championed me in my photography and art. “The world as I see it”—that is in my tagline. That came from her words: you see the world through your camera lens; I would love to see it that way too. I did carry my camera with me all the time.
A majestic eagle gazes across the clear blue sky, its layered dark feathers and powerful hooked beak in sharp focus.
ABBA – Eagle
[Chorus] Flying high, high I’m a bird in the sky I’m an eagle that rides on the breeze High, high What a feeling to fly Over mountains and forests and seas And to go anywhere that I please
High, high What a feeling to fly
Many thanks to Tina for this delightful challenge; assembling my response turned out to be more difficult than I expected. I’m eager to see the memories you’ll share for this week’s theme—please remember to link back to Tina’s postand use the Lens-Artists tag so we can easily find your work. My appreciation also goes to Egidio for last week’s “Where Does It Lead” challenge, it gave us many roads paths to follow.
Looking ahead, we hope you’ll be with us again next week, when John returns to guide us on another of his Journeys With Johnbo. Check out his site and the WP reader at noon EST in the USA.
Until then, let’s keep exploring, broadening our horizons, and maintaining a positive mindset
I remember standing by the lakeside, watching this quiet scene unfold: a weathered wooden dock stretching gently across rippling pale-blue water, beneath a dark, textured sky that seemed to invite a moment of stillness. Along the dock, I noticed a tall lamp post, a red life preserver, mooring poles, a coiled metal ladder, and even a small broom-like object near the edge—subtle signs that people had recently passed through, though the place felt utterly calm. Then my eyes were drawn to a vivid, rainbow-like arc of refracted light glowing above the water near the center, an ethereal focal point that brought a soft sense of hope into the muted, vintage-toned scene, with the dock quietly grounding everything in reality.
I was so happy to capture these round rainbows, never before or after seen similar
The image shows a full-circle rainbow, captured over a pier and a lakeside landscape during rainfall, something I had never seen before and have never seen again, a rare view that many people never get to witness. Rainbows are, by their optical nature, always perfect circles, a quiet reminder to me that even when we only see a part of something, there is often more wholeness than meets the eye. From the ground, we usually don’t see this phenomenon in its entirety, because the ground and the horizon hide the lower part, making the rainbow appear only as an arc. In this moment, however, a full circle formed thanks to raindrops that were exceptionally close to where I was standing, allowing me a more complete glimpse of this gentle natural wonder.
The image shows a full-circle rainbow, captured over a pier and a lakeside landscape during rainfall.
Why I saw this was the low October sunlight shines directly from behind me and there is a very dense rainfall right between me and the pier, the light has time to refract and reflect back also from the raindrops lower in the air before they hit the ground or the water. In this case, the entire 360-degree circle becomes visible in front of the photographer.
