Living amidst the awe-inspiring sights and sounds of the mountains and a large, deep glacial lake, it's easy to overlook the timid serenity of a warm, shallow river. In the evening, when no one's around except for the occasional mallard, it is the river with its seemingly ancient weeping willows that offers true solitude. Whereas the hypnotic waves of an ocean-like lake push one closer to the sense of eternity, it is that same river that gently brings one back to the beauty of the everyday.
As I continue putting together image selections—organized thematically and stylistically—I realize that at least some of my work in this field is between photography and art.
Let's call this one the Blue Period. ;)
Slowly recovering from surgery (as the doctor advised, and I, the diligent patient, complied), I've been doing brief, mild hikes for the past month. And on days like this, my temptation to cross-country ski is particularly strong.
For now, I am vicariously living through the camera.
A familiar landscape.
An equally familiar perspective.
Yet, amidst it appears the often out-of-the-ordinary, one-of-a-kind Moon—a baby crescent, cozily nestled in a miniature cloud.
It's Solstice season in the Rocky Mountains. These shortest days of the year, the sun sets around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and after that...Well, occasionally, you hear the howling of the local wolf packs, which makes that hot chocolate waiting for you at home all the more desirable. But, at the same time, this is that same season when the orange sunsets look all the more unreal against the moody-blue clouds, as you hike down, past the screeching ski lift, until the glistening lake becomes visible.