In what has become an annual eccentricity occurrence,
I took myself out for some January sunrise shots. I’ve decided I torture myself this way
because it’s the month when dawn syncs with my biorhythms. I wake
up naturally, just as the first smidge of light brightens the horizon, which allows me enough time to splash water on my face, bundle up and drive across
town.
Last Monday, I headed to the beach, forgetting
the angle of the sun this time of year means from that location, I wasn’t
going to see the sun come up over the water. Still, standing at the edge of the parking
lot, I shot a few pictures of the lighthouse amid the brightening sky. I was the only one there, although one lonely
set of footprints between two snow fences testified to an earlier visitation visitor.
The temperature wasn’t as bad as it’s been in previous years
when I’ve been inclined to head out on similar foolhardy missions—during
the coldest hour, on one of the coldest days of the coldest month of the year. Yet, before long my fingers were killing me numb, and I skedaddled back returned to my car to thaw them in the blasting heat
before driving toward the harbor. It was
the MLK holiday, but there was no day off for our long-delayed harbor dredging project. Across the water an engine grumbled, and as I beat my hands on my sides trying to keep them warm watched, a long barge
slid into the grey harbor.
The tide was mudflat low, brown and ugly. Deciding the only way I was going to get out of the trip whole would be to feature a neglected boat perched by the jetty in a black and white composition, I climbed a stone wall and framed a shot. As I did, I noticed what looked like the top of a tug boat moored at the mouth
of the harbor. My sister loves tugs, if
I caught it right, say just as the sun cracked the barrier beach behind it, I’d send the picture to her.
The picture I got? Let's just say I'm not sending it to her, and I'm most certainly not posting it here. Ah, well. (Sorry, Con.)
Here’s the truth. You
know the photography is all for the writing, right? So what does it matter if I completely blow it don't get what I want? Regardless of how the picture comes out, I
can always summon the images.
13 comments:
I still think you got some interesting shots. That lone boat looks like it's from another time in black and white.
The sun will continue to change positions, giving you better shots.
Like that last one; it looks lonely and wintery.
Indeed the lone boat is so mournful. Your writing and pics are worth the effort. Thanks for sharing. Hope you did thaw out
There is something so desolate yet lovely about the black and white shot. It's not "pretty" in the traditional sense, like a sunrise, but I like it. :)
I like the last one as well, even if it does evoke sad feelings. Poor boat is stuck. Somewhat like my writing lately.
It looks so barren and somehow your words and pictures makes me shiver.
I have always loved your photos. It seems to me they are an end in themselves. Not only for the writing, but a purpose all of their own. Keep being your beautiful self. The images are stunning. The boat especially. I always liked your boats.
If you didn't get the perfect shot, it just means you have to come back another time. And that's usually a good thing.
Oh my, you make getting up very early to meet the dawn and take the beautiful pictures of the morning light almost tempting to try. I could see myself doing that, but it would have to be during warmer weather.
The photography might be all for the writing, but you're becoming professional. These are all gorgeous shots. I particularly like the black and white one. The boat looks stark and lonely, yet timeless. Well done!
That last one is a lovely study. Lonely, too. I can almost hear the boat sighing as she waits patiently for warmer days and the feel of water beneath her.
Your photos are lovely, Liza. I love the words you use to describe them as well. I really like that last shot.
I love these photos!! And they make me long for New England and Martha's Vineyard - my happy place. Thanks for sharing these. :)
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