Monday, November 27, 2006
When you're in a mountain town way above sea level and the sun is dancing in and out of clouds that intermittently drift flurries over the quiet historic streetscape, you find yourself reaching for the camera very quickly when things brighten up. You may have a mere few seconds to meter, compose and shoot. And if you hesitate, you may not have a chance to come back to whatever scene captured your eye in the first place, because what looks captivating in gentle sun isn't so memorable when the light fades and the flakes threaten to fly into your lens.
So when the sun came out on these tree trunks (they look like silver birch, but I'm hardly an expert), I rather liked the way the surface was painted by the light. The light in Georgetown was different than any I'd ever previously experienced. It was soft, almost gentle in the way it touched the town. Surfaces weren't so much illuminated as they were bathed.
I bet I was the only person who took pictures of these trees on that day. I bet the few passers-by who saw me compose this shot still think I was feeling loopy from the altitude.
Your turn: Have you ever taken pictures of trees just because?