A return to my roots: artful photography
There is this back road I take when I want to get to Orting from Bonney Lake. It descends from the plateau down to the river valley; the road is twisty and steep and several streams run alongside it at different points.
There is one such stream, across from one of many rock quarries around here, nameless and pretty and I have been thinking: I should stop, see what’s here, maybe there’s a good photograph that needs to happen. (That’s how I like to think of it: the photographs are sitting there; someone with a camera needs to stand in the right place to see it and capture it.)
Yes, I made a photograph of the stream, but there was a clearing in the distance, some tall grass, logs across an old road to keep vehicles out (no problem for a walking photographer), big stones as well, and chest-high grass and weeds and wildflowers (long gone to seed by this time of year).
And this bleached wooden post, from some long ago when something other than all the lost and weariness of long-unused landscapes. I found a few of these; this one had the best light, the best texture, and ultimately the best setting, so I pointed my camera, fiddled with my settings, took a few test shots, and then this one came long and that was it; I had the best of a little bit of roadside history in my camera and couldn’t wait to get home and see how it turned out.
That’s photography in a nutshell for me: look around, play, experiment, repeat. I get such a full, happy feeling every time I do that.