It was one of those rainy, sunny, rainy, cloudy, sunny, rainy-again days on Lake Champlain. Which means perfect weather for this:
I love rainbow pictures. I’ve rushed into the house for my camera so many times that I have a permanent bruise where my shin always slams into the last step on the deck. We have a little gallery of lake-rainbow pictures in the front hallway.
And I have a thing for lightning, too. If you’ve never tried to photograph lightning with a regular, pretty cheap digital camera, you should know that it’s not easy. I’ll sit through an entire storm on the sun porch with my trigger finger on the camera, just waiting for that bolt that lasts a split second longer than the rest.
Here’s a shot from a couple weeks ago…
I mentioned my penchant for photographing lovely, intangible things to my very funny and very wicked friend Nancy at an English teachers’ lunch, and she smirked at me.
“What will you be photographing next week? Hope? Serendipity? Nuance, perhaps?’
And that’s when I figured it out. Capturing things that don’t last, things that hang in the air but can’t be touched, is the reason so many of us write. It’s a way to make hope and prisms and jagged flashes of light last forever, a way to share them and take them home.