London, Ontario, March 2007 [Click to enlarge]
As I loaded little man into the van this morning, he looked up in the sky and noticed three intersecting aircraft contrails.
"They look like an H, dad," he said, pointing with that wide-eyed look of wonder of a six-year-old.Not wanting to disappoint him, I dashed back into the house and grabbed the camera. In a scene that we seem to repeat fairly often, I took a few rapid-fire pictures as he chattered with me from his booster seat. While the rest of the world seemingly played out the same old morning routine, we found one of those in-between moments that seem to present themselves almost at random.
"They are, indeed," I answered.
"Are you going to take a picture?"
I showed him the pictures on the screen before it was time to go and got a big thumbs up from him. My wife smiled as she came out of the house and saw what we had been up to. She's seen it all before, of course, and likely will see it again before long.
About these pictures: London has an international airport, but it doesn't handle much real international traffic - unless you count the charters to Cuba and the puddle jumpers to Detroit as international. We're a mere spot on the edge of the air traffic network. But our geography seems to make us prime territory for overflying high altitude aircraft. Some mornings and evenings, the skies seem to fill with contrails of barely-visible planes. When the clouds are just so, a contrail just below the cloud deck will cast a shadow when the just-rising sun hits it.
It's one of those rare moments that we miss when we're rushing to get out of the house on time. But with the early advent of daylight saving time, we may yet see more sunrise-derived magic in the days to come. As much as I love to stare at the shadows-on-clouds uniqueness of these images, the importance of this image has more to do with who inspired it than the technical aspects of its capture.
Your turn: In-between moments. How do you take advantage of them before they disappear?