Wednesday, May 25, 2011


Sometimes I get so frustrated. What I see through the lens falls short, woefully short, of what I see with my eyes. My camera's viewfinder is just too limited.

Early this morning I noticed a wave of fog had quickly moved in over the field outside my window. I grabbed my camera and ran out the back door. I was immediately greeted by the sight of a rising sun peeking through trees across the road. The subtle rays swathed in mist were glorious. The light was golden.


My shutter clicked away. Then I would stop and look. Then take a few more pictures. But the camera just could not keep up with what I saw with my own eyes. The lens wasn't big enough to take in the entire scene. And I couldn't stand any farther back to get it all.


So I turned my attention in the other direction, toward that field that had drawn me out to the morning cold and damp in the first place. The fog had dissipated somewhat, and the sun's warmth was falling on part of the field.


I love this part of the morning.

It was all over in a matter of minutes. Capturing the movements of the sun teaches you the brevity of the moment. She who hesitates misses the glory.

The images live on in my mind. That glorious sun. That beauty. My heart is still full.



Yes, the viewfinder is limited. But it can immortalize the fractions of a second of a moment. That fraction is so rich, so full, that it is enough, gloriously enough.

It is golden.