Sometimes you have to be at the exact right spot at the exact right time, eyes open, imagination charged, prepared to see something special that nature does, but most often goes unnoticed. As you look at today’s photograph, I am not sure what you’re going to see. You weren’t there. Your mind cannot combine the photograph you see with the memory of an unfolding mental image, attached to the sounds of the morning and the fresh cool air all around. After all, it’s just a photo of some trees in sunlight, with a white nesting box on the edge of a lake.
But I was there.
I felt the cool air, heard the birds calling, saw the magical moment, when the sun rose above some trees in the distance and lit up those trees in the photo. I saw the moment when mist on the water, barely visible in the twilight, gave the lake a magical look, almost like smoky glass. One moment, it was just dark water; the next moment, smoky glass. The trees, that seemed dull in shadow, came to life in the sunlight. All of that happened while I was looking.
And what you would not know, if you have not been there or studied about Lake Conestee Nature Preserve, is that those deep dark woods behind the trees on the edge of the lake have no trails, except those made by animals. The park has over 400 acres and much of it is left to nature. If you were able to walk through that dark forest you would eventually get to the Reedy River. But if that happened, that meant you were a deer, a coyote, maybe even a red fox, or some other wild animal, privileged with preserved land to call your home.
My curiosity for those dark woods is incredibly high. I have looked at that portion of the park from every possible angle, staring into the deepness of that forest with my eyes and with my camera lens. And, on occasion, I have seen some of those wild animals roaming freely, undisturbed, with the only sounds they might hear being the river in the distance, birds flittering through the trees, and the sound of their own footsteps; rough nature, at its finest.
The spot where I stood to take today’s photograph was not accessible just a few short years ago. I stood there alone on what is called Lost Lake View, found again, cleared, and reclaimed by park workers for lucky folks like me. My 70 to 200 mm lens, plus a little cropping in, makes this scene appear closer than it is. I’m on the other side of a 12-acre lake remnant, standing there in my muted green plaid shirt and olive pants, with my mustard-brown hiking boots and khaki-colored wide-brimmed hiking hat, elbows clenched to my side for stability, viewfinder to my left eye, pointer finger on the shutter button, clicking away.
I have been to this spot a number of times over recent years. I have looked at that exact piece of forest along the edge of the lake many times. It never looked like this before. Or maybe, I was just distracted and did not see some previous magical moment display in front of me. But I have seen it now. And I have captured it in my camera and stored it on my computer. If I never see anything like that again, at least I will know that I saw it on that morning.
And I hope when I look back at this photograph, I will be able to recall how I felt when the morning sun peeked over those distant trees and did its daily magic just for me.