Thursday, January 15, 2009

A pathetically sad story.

So I am officially obsessed with my camera. Considering I've loaded almost 6000 images on my beloved MacBook since *ahem* May, I'd say that's a bit obsessive. I've been trying to figure out why I like to take so many pictures, and I've come to a few conclusions. Either I am afraid if I don't capture it, either I can't prove I saw it, or I'll be afraid I won't remember what it looked like. OR, this is my outlet, my way to find things that visually express how I feel inside. I find something, some form of natural beauty that touches me, and I want to share that with others so they too can see the beauty that they would otherwise overlook. I am leaning on the outlet. 

So why is this a pathetically sad story? Well, I usually take my camera with me, and at least have it in my car, just in case. ;) Last week, as I was walking out the door to take the kids to school, I grabbed my camera off the hall table, then put it back telling myself "You're just taking them to school, then you're coming right back home. You don't need the camera." So I left it home.

On my way back home, one of the roads I take crosses over the Provo River, and passes an RV park right along the river that has hundreds of tall mature trees. That particular morning, the fog was so thick that I could only see a few car lengths ahead of me. Just as I was approaching the river, the sun started to rise from behind the mountain, which instantly turned the gray fog between the trees into a brilliant deep amber glow. Then, as the sun was a bit further up, it sent thick streaks of the sun's rays cutting through the fog, being interrupted by the trees. It literally took my breath away. I on impulse, pulled over and reached for my camera. Which I left at home. I started crying. I was devastated that I wasn't able to capture that intensely beautiful moment. I am pathetic.

Here are the trees, and the sunrise, just minus the fog.

Imagine the picture above with sun ray streaks like this:

But foggier and orange like this:

It was stunning.

I still get teary eyed when I think of it, almost as if I am mourning a terrible loss. I have even stalked that very spot almost every morning since hoping to get the same glimpse, but with no luck. I think it's official that I am obsessed.


Lori-ann said...

Yes, you ARE obsessed, but there are way worse things you could be obsessed with, dontcha think?

Love you!!!

Deborah said...

Or maybe you're an artist and haven't figured it out yet.

Jaime Theler said...

Ooooh. Those look even better when not on your teeny-tiny little viewfinder. And, hey, there could be worse things to be obsessed about.