The morning sun was already high in the sky. Rays of light blanketed the freshly mown grass, still twinkling with morning dew. Flanked by boulders placed there as a natural barrier for the parking area, a lone tree stood on the hilltop, it's red and orange leaves a compliment to the surrounding bushes and a wonderful contrast to the soft blur of the background trees.
On this particular morning I was slow to rise and slow to make it to one of my favorite lazy spots, a place with little in the way of trails to walk, and not all that much to photograph, other than Campbell's Covered Bridge, which was directly behind where I stood to take this photo.
On some of my trips there, I would park on the hill near that little red tree, walk down the road to the bridge, go inside, and just read the messages, carved long ago into the interior bridge walls. Usually, I would walk up the hill that faces the bridge, a large open area of tall grass, surrounded by forest. Several benches are strategically placed on that hill, giving a contemplative soul places to sit and think, places to look down at that old red bridge. One of my favorite photos captures one of those benches, with the bridge blurred in the distance.
It's hard to sit on that bench, looking at that old bridge, and not imagine a simpler time when the bridge was still in service. The idea for the photo of the blurred bridge came from my sitting on that bench, gazing at the bridge as my eyes slowly glazed over with imaginings.
I have taken so many photos of that old bridge, trying to capture its essence, that it eventually became difficult to think of another way to compose a photo of it. On the day of this photo I had already done my due diligence and photographed the bridge, I had already sat on benches on a hill, and I was ready to leave.
Not satisfied with any of my photos so far, I took one last look for something worth capturing. I saw the red tree. I positioned myself. My goal was an interesting composition. Looking through the viewfinder, I noticed the natural frame of the weeds at the bottom, and the trees around the edges.
I took the shot.
What I did not notice, until I got home to my computer, was the rays of sun bursting out from those dark tree branches. They helped to make the photo interesting. And they reminded me that no matter how perceptive I might be, there is always more present, in front of me and around me, in substance and in spirit, than what meets the eye.