In light of this afternoon’s smoldering sunset (and here’s a really great shot of all its fiery glory) this post seems anticlimactic at best and inappropriately titled at worst—what kind of eye to the sky worth its salt would miss out on first rate glow and a rainbow to boot? But that’s just what happened today and that’s just how it goes sometimes. The sliver lining? For once I’m not too bent out of shape. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and call this progress or maturity; on the contrary it’s solace in knowing the fat, wet raindrops intermittently falling would not have kept my lens dry. So even if I was out there, shooting would have probably led to more frustration.
Rewinding back to yesterday I was finally able to get back on the marsh, camera in hand. It had been over two weeks since I last partook of the photography, and as soon as I cleared the woods on the east end of Dock Road the marsh opened up and the whole world seemed a little brighter, problems a little lighter. Golden light sprawled out upon the marsh touching all corners in its reach. Even in the marsh’s browning death throes spirited light did all it could to trick the eyes that winter in fact was not coming. This sight coupled with a morning spent with a big group of spirited volunteers was almost enough to warm even the most frozen of souls. Yes, mine included.
On site and out of the car my thoughts shifted to the contrails lining the sky. Immediately my cynical mind vacillated between gentle amusement and mild disappointment, as I knew this is the type of sky that makes the chemtrail crowd cry foul. Meanwhile all I’m trying to do is make a good shot. Find a good composition, make the frames, and call it a day. Here we can use the contrails to create strong leading lines in the photograph. Very simply the lines tell the eye where to look, operating as giant pointers for the viewer. And speaking of eyes, doesn’t that marsh tide pool look similar to our sight organ? It’s got a pupil and everything. Looking upward. The eye to the sky.