Thursday, December 05, 2019
As our darkest day approaches, in early evenings as I head downhill to feed the large animals I’m captivated by the setting sun’s last rays, still glowing over the southwest Cascades. At the same time, toward the north and across from where I stand, those rays dimly and faintly reveal only one of this section’s Sisters Mountains.
Looking around and now observing more closely, I’m growing aware of how much and dramatically this lower light is affecting all surroundings. My routine sights in daily travels from house to barn and vice-versa, now seem enchantingly different.
In this uphill photo, the center tree slightly beyond the rise, years ago nearly was invisible. In those days all the trees were overgrown, their outreaching limbs tangled into a mish-mosh that obliterated a decent view up the hill. After yearning for a better view, I took a chainsaw to open space among those trees. That yielded a nice sightline and yesterday evening’s light made it more compelling.
A half-moon clear and visible boosted the light highlighting the hill.
Randomly then, I swung my camera (Canon, not cellphone) and carelessly snapped the lens. Even this unplanned photo reveals that evening’s charm and beauty.
Another quick shutter-click caught my watcher. He’s anticipating running alongside me up the hill.
I laughed and shoved my walking stick firmly in the deep snow. Louie had been anticipating that very signal, and together we started uphill toward the house.
Dear Friends: A very powerful camera captures best in this season’s dim lighting. Diana