This last Tuesday I woke up early (something I don't make a habit of doing) to get my younger sis on her school bus. As we stepped outside I first sensed discomfort, the cold poked at my skin like a million needles. I pulled my thin sweater tight around my body and hid under it's red hood as I watched my breath materialize like smoke. The cold of the moment was quickly overtaken by the mystery of the early calm. There's a stillness that's only found in the morning, a peace, or maybe just the void of stress and hurry, that instantly soothes the senses. The only other time I experience this feeling is in my dreams, the ones that don't involve peeing in the middle of the mall, being chased, or realizing I can fly out of my house that's full of water and giant-sized toothpicks. But in all seriousness, I have been obsessed lately with this drive to capture photos that remind me of dreams, or maybe it's more a heavenly beauty and mystery that brings me back to the pure innocence of my deeply missed childhood imagination. As children I think we have this ability to create such glorious stories, moments, and images in our head, ones that could only be accepted by one who hasn't experienced the harsh trials and responsibilities of life.
What I saw that morning gave me a special feeling as the fog hovered over the dewy grass softly highlighted by a rising sun. I grabbed my camera, and unreservedly gave my heart to the moment.
And I couldn't help but take a couple snaps of my car, Farley. He's a 1989 volvo wagon that I have a slight obsession with.
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