Last night we went out to walk the dog just as the sun was setting, and I stopped off on the way home to water my neighbor's seedlings. They have two hummingbird feeders hanging off their porch roof, so I sat for a bit with my cat, Alex -- who always joins us on the nightly dog walk -- and watched the hummers, who were all atwitter because their favorite feeder was empty.
We'd had some fairly serious windstorms earlier in the week, so the lovely driftwood webs Jerry hung from the eaves had taken a beating: a few of the branches were on the deck, and one was hanging down; it made, I think, a spectacular image, silhouetted in the door -- along with the water and the mountains -- by the dying embers of the sun. I was grateful to have been there with my camera at the critical moment.
Yesterday my husband was attempting to put his new email address into linked in, and one of the links we clicked in our attempt to figure out where to do this was "change email signature." How quickly we forget -- I haven't had an email signature in years. But when I did, it was a Bresson quote -- That's Robert Bresson the French film maker, not Henri Bresson the photographer -- that went like this: "Make visible that which, without you, might not have been seen."
I still think that's a wonderful quotation. Now that I am older and a little wiser, I see it is about more than photography: it's about finding what you were born to do, and doing it; about discovering what you have a unique gift or opportunity for seeing, knowing, sensing, tasting... and sharing that with the rest of creation. Which is why I share this image with you: I have had the unique opportunity, not only to live in this beautiful place, but also to befriend these wonderful neighbors of ours; not only to have a dog to walk and a husband to walk him with, but a cat to join us and lead me to the hummingbirds (don't worry: he's never caught a bird, he just likes to watch!). So many gifts are captured in this one photo: the gift of color, of sunsets and clear skies; the artistry of Jerry's driftwood webs; this wonderful camera that captures such exquisite color...
I can only be grateful. So I smile, press the shutter, and pass the gift on to you. Enjoy!
3 comments:
Ahhhh, those are wonderful moments, yes?
And as you were there, I was leaving yoga class, driving up the highway towards home, lighter than when I left home earlier, heading into a sunset that I could see was always JUST over the next hill (and then the next and then the next). Chasing sunsets. Sounds like you were able to capture yours.
Beautiful.
The signature quote puts me in mind of something I've been thinking about in terms of what my life is about. I am moving closer and closer to being able to state that what I do best is translate. Whether through words, images, impressions, photographs... it appears that I am able to help people bridge gaps between their present and their possibility. It's an odd job description, but its full of dimension and grace. Now that the reality has breached my consciousness, let's see what becomes of it!
I like the sound of these things, of translation, and chasing sunsets; of bridges between present and possibility... yum! Can't wait to see where life takes you both!
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