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Early Light
Apr. 20th, 2008 08:17 amLight is what makes photography. Sometimes it's the lack of light, when working in low-light environments (indoors, nighttime, whatever), but it's still, even then, the light spots which make photography. Understanding the root words this really is no surprise. They come from Greek: photo = light, graph, graphy = draw, so Light Drawing. Yes, that describes it.
I usually wake and rise early. This is body memory; the weekdays I need to be up and ready for work early, and this carries through on weekends, days off, weeks off. So even though I'm not looking at work, despite this being a weekend morning, I'm up early.
Where I'm staying they aren't waking quite so early as me. No worries, I'm quiet, and I've actually slept over a bit from the norm most mornings. Still, I'm up before or about time for the sunrise. I like sunrise light a lot, as well as sunset. Sometimes it's hard to tell which in a photograph, but that's not a problem. It's good light. Mid-day light, particularly for people, is usually less complimentary. The shadows which help define shapes and sizes are straight down or non-existent. Eyes hide in little caves of darkness in noon-time light.
Across the road from Oldest Sister's house is a small, old cemetery. I've looked at it through the bedroom window the past several mornings and contemplated. The first couple mornings, though, we planned on getting moving relatively early so I went and joined in for breakfast. Yesterday morning, I felt very groggy and no desire to wander out. Also, Bro-in-Law is a cautious sort, keeping the house locked even when home.
This morning I went out. Oh, I proved rude, leaving the door unlocked (closed, but unlocked) and sleeping, defenseless people behind. I headed out about 06:30, with the sun up but just over the area's trees. Dew leapt from the blades of grass onto my shoes as I walked through the quiet graveyard and photographed the peaceful start of another day. During the time out walking, perhaps a dozen autos drove by on Old King's Highway, and less than a handful of joggers/walkers passed.
And I brought the newspapers in with me when I returned, an hour and a bit later, locking the door behind me when I entered the sleeping house. The didn't even waken when I made coffee.
I usually wake and rise early. This is body memory; the weekdays I need to be up and ready for work early, and this carries through on weekends, days off, weeks off. So even though I'm not looking at work, despite this being a weekend morning, I'm up early.
Where I'm staying they aren't waking quite so early as me. No worries, I'm quiet, and I've actually slept over a bit from the norm most mornings. Still, I'm up before or about time for the sunrise. I like sunrise light a lot, as well as sunset. Sometimes it's hard to tell which in a photograph, but that's not a problem. It's good light. Mid-day light, particularly for people, is usually less complimentary. The shadows which help define shapes and sizes are straight down or non-existent. Eyes hide in little caves of darkness in noon-time light.
Across the road from Oldest Sister's house is a small, old cemetery. I've looked at it through the bedroom window the past several mornings and contemplated. The first couple mornings, though, we planned on getting moving relatively early so I went and joined in for breakfast. Yesterday morning, I felt very groggy and no desire to wander out. Also, Bro-in-Law is a cautious sort, keeping the house locked even when home.
This morning I went out. Oh, I proved rude, leaving the door unlocked (closed, but unlocked) and sleeping, defenseless people behind. I headed out about 06:30, with the sun up but just over the area's trees. Dew leapt from the blades of grass onto my shoes as I walked through the quiet graveyard and photographed the peaceful start of another day. During the time out walking, perhaps a dozen autos drove by on Old King's Highway, and less than a handful of joggers/walkers passed.
And I brought the newspapers in with me when I returned, an hour and a bit later, locking the door behind me when I entered the sleeping house. The didn't even waken when I made coffee.
