Driving home last night, we watched the dark gray clouds pile onto each other, forming a solid oppressive blanket across the sky.
How long would it be until we needed to close the window?
Not long as it turned out, and within just minutes of home, the rain tumbled down, gathering momentum, until I groaned, and wondered why it couldn't have waited just a few minutes longer.
Even as I scrambled out the car door and hurried up the walk, I knew I'd be taking out the camera.
Tossing down my school bags, looking up to see the most glorious light coming through our tiny narrow window.
I love tiny bottles, especially those with a hint of color. The tallest of these stands no more than 6 inches high, the smalles about 3. Insignificant most days...I barely notice them.
Yesterday, though, the radiated with the soft light coming through them. No time for the tripod, the light was fleeting. I knelt on our bed and snapped quickly, struggling with the focus, and finally remembering how to shift it out of the center, so the bottles themselves would be in focus. (Hint to self: practice this!)
I could hear my dad's voice, "It's all about the light." He'd go on and on about the light, and for the longest time, I just didn't get it - not the bit about the light, or shutter speed, or anything else. I was a point, shoot, click kinda gal, who always wondered why the photos didn't capture what I saw. I'm really wishing now that I could let dad know, that I'm beginning to "get it."
I had to wait out the rain, constantly checking to see if it had stopped, and hoping that it would before the light faded.
Mother Nature cooperated; I still had to dodge the drops falling from the tree branches, and I had to deal with wet jeans resulting from kneeling on a sodden lawn. Worth it? You bet!