I’ve been having a rough couple of years in someways.
Good years in someways, but yeah, rough in others.
Which makes those small bright spots shine all the brighter – like the one light in the photo above, cutting though the fog to paint a sparkling trail on the surface of the bay.
That day was a good metaphor for the last couple of years.
The day had been beautifully sunny until mid-afternoon when the fog came in as a wall of grey.
And yet, after it blurred and removed the colors from the once bright harbor area, there were bright spots to be seen still showing their color and cheering onlookers. Like the lights on the boats in the first photo.
On Thursday, I had a bright spot that brightened and lightened not only that day, but one of the larger hurts I’ve had lately.
Earlier this year I dropped the external drive I was using to store my photos (including my iPhoto Library) on my kitchen floor and lost everything from mid-April 2012 through to the day it fell.
Believe me, That. Was. A. Lot. Of. Photos.
Thousands of photos.
Many of which were no big loss. Many of which I couldn’t even remember.
But many that it hurt to loose. Especially ones that I knew I’d never get another shot like them.
I have found some of the lost photos over the ensuing months that had been saved to other places as well as to the external drive and have been happy for that . . . but there were those few that remained gone, and broke my heart.
As you may have guessed by now, yesterday I found one of them. One of them that I had really hated losing.
Here’s my bright spot:
You may be thinking, “She was that down over losing that photo?”
Yep. That photo.
It was taken in the flood year that inspired my book The Devil’s Flood, and I have lost almost every shot I took of the flooded lake where the story is set. Of the hundred or so I took I have about four or five left.
The Pelicans are almost always hanging out at the far end of the lake where my long lens can barely catch a shot of them. (Wish I had a long range lens.)
The flood was the only time I’d seen logs floating about in the lake.
And there it all was . . .
Flooded lake. Log. Pelicans. Cormorants.
All about twenty feet (6.096m) from the road where I could easily take photos of them that would be in focus and show good detail.
Wouldn’t get this shot again. And this shot, and some of the others I took in that special moment, have always made me smile. The way the second Pelican from the left has his wing over the other guy’s back while he stretches, standing on one leg. The way they’re all positioned. The little band of Cormorants at one end. The esthetic of a mix of black and white birds – including the touches of black on the Pelican’s wings – on a grey day on a grey lake, and yet the touches of color from their bills and legs.
Finding this photo in an out of the way folder I never would have expected it to be in made my day, and is still cheering my heart.
Think about this. Under ideal circumstances – eyes adjusted, no nearby lights, standing on a high hill or mountain – a candle flame could be seen at up to 30 miles (48 km) away, according to a 1941 study by Columbia University.
Are you in a fog of the heart, mind and spirit?
Keep watch for the bright spots, however small they may be.
Even if they are Pelicans and Cormorants perched on a log.
As the Pelicans did on that special day in 2015, I bid you farewell. 🙂
Hugs from Pearl.