Autumn is a season of change. The verdant landscape of summer becomes a blaze of maize, carnelian, rust. Leaves drop and collect on the ground, crunching beneath our feet on the sidewalks. Heavy shadows once created by the full canopy of trees are gone. The paradox is that in areas with deciduous trees, there is actually more light as the days shorten. Eventually there is nothing but silhouetted trees against grey and darkening skies. Autumn teaches us lessons in impermanence and acceptance. Change is constantly happening all around us and to us. We are powerless to stop this forward momentum completely. Like the ticking of the second hand on the clock, the march continues forever onward.
Photographers who work with natural light are especially aware of seasonal changes. One minute the light that bathes your subject is sparkling, golden, the next minute the sun has dipped too far behind the buildings and trees on the other side of the road to produce this kind of luminosity. Even when you find yourself moving to another little pool of sunshine, the magic is gone. All the elements that produced this alchemy of light and shadow exist no longer. There are just some scenes that never be exactly replicated.
Our lives are like that too. Some scenes from our memories seem to be encased in an aura of gold. These, too, are singular events. We can gather together the same people, the same circumstances, have everyone say the same words, but the feeling is not the same. Magic is rare, elusive, fleeting. Perhaps if it were ever-present, it would lose its power, becoming just... ordinary.
Photography is one way of capturing a bit of magic. Photos are more permanent and longer- lived than memories. I am letting this photo serve as a reminder to stay present as changes occur, the remain grateful for the moments of luminosity, to remember that the death and slumber of late autumn and winter are what give rise to the rebirth of spring.
Until next time...