The Dimming of the Day, a set on Flickr.
Via Flickr:
I'm blessed and fortunate to have such beautiful scenes to photograph, literally right outside my backdoor. What the Carolina Low Country lacks in visually dramatic topography, such as hills and mountains, it more than makes up for it with hauntingly beautiful sunsets over the wide expanse of estuaries and tidelands. Where land meets sea there's a primordial energy that entraps and entrances the creative soul. The experience here at sunset and dusk goes beyond the mere visual aesthetics of a well-composed landscape. The lingering light of the setting sun and the softness that follows ebbs gently from the tiniest of details of life in the marshland. From the curving shadows and faint hues of sea grass in moonlight to the weathered texture of the old wood on the dock to the toothy smile of exposed oyster beds at low tide. Life slows to an almost standstill at this time of day and to those who notice, the early evening sky becomes almost like a prayer set to light, shape and color. Just before the appearance of night's first stars a final farewell comes in the calls of gull, heron and egret on the flight of their evening commute to rest and roost.
Via Flickr:
I'm blessed and fortunate to have such beautiful scenes to photograph, literally right outside my backdoor. What the Carolina Low Country lacks in visually dramatic topography, such as hills and mountains, it more than makes up for it with hauntingly beautiful sunsets over the wide expanse of estuaries and tidelands. Where land meets sea there's a primordial energy that entraps and entrances the creative soul. The experience here at sunset and dusk goes beyond the mere visual aesthetics of a well-composed landscape. The lingering light of the setting sun and the softness that follows ebbs gently from the tiniest of details of life in the marshland. From the curving shadows and faint hues of sea grass in moonlight to the weathered texture of the old wood on the dock to the toothy smile of exposed oyster beds at low tide. Life slows to an almost standstill at this time of day and to those who notice, the early evening sky becomes almost like a prayer set to light, shape and color. Just before the appearance of night's first stars a final farewell comes in the calls of gull, heron and egret on the flight of their evening commute to rest and roost.
The scene is the setting sun beyond the Cross Island Bridge, spanning Broad Creek on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. The moment was this past Saturday evening, while bringing my boat (something I never thought previously of owning let alone operating).The frame of mind was - and still is - one of thankfulness and gratitude.
The opportunity to live in a place where there is so much natural beauty and the added blessing of being able to record and capture all the wonderful nature that's just outside my door with camera and lens. And now to be just a couple of weeks away from opening a new photography studio and gallery.
It's funny how much can happen in a relatively short amount of time when we learn to let go of what it was that we've been fighting for so long, coming to the realization that the only person who holds us back, knocks us down and places limits on what we can achieve lies within us.
The power of gratitude. The discovery of grace. Peace in knowing what it is to forgive but more importantly, to be forgiven.
This is why there is much more to my nature photography than just pretty pictures.
Look closely and sometimes you see something of the photographer - the artist - that was there all along, waiting for the storm to subside. Something that goes beyond light, subject and composition.