Photo Bombed!

Bombed!

The other day I found myself driving around, working on some new ideas in new locations.  I drove past a wheat field on my way to a location and made a mental note to return on my way home.  There's nothing like finding yourself in the middle of photographing wind whipped wheat and being hit repeatedly in the face.  I can handle the sting of a wheat berry bombardment, but what do you do when the impertinent wheat stalk believes it should be the center of attention?  Make the photograph anyway.  That's what I did.

Of course, I happened to make several other non-photo bombed photographs I liked.  I just didn't like being flogged why trying to make them.

When You Least Expect It

I had an opportunity to get out and hike last night.  I had plans to start one of my new projects and possibly make a few new images in super color infrared.  As I hiked I managed to spook a sand hill crane.  It flew off in the direction I was planning to hike, so I decided to follow.  When I spotted it again, it rested near one of my favorite trees of this hiking area.  As I approached, the crane took flight.  I barely noticed, mainly due to the fact I was busy pulling the super color converted camera from my bag.  Something about the tree caught my eye.

Golden Song

Most of the photographs I have of this tree are during the dormant stage of its life; leafless branches reaching out toward the sky.  Last night when I hiked in, I stood for a moment and watched as the breeze made the leaves flit and flutter.  It looked as though the tree was conducting the clouds in a wispy symphony just for me.  I stayed for a few minutes taking it all in and making several frames.  

As I hiked away, I thought this was a great start to the night.  Unfortunately, the rest of the hike paled in comparison.  I hiked to a seldom visited section the Lake Michigan shoreline, only to rest for a moment gazing out into the rolling waves and lackluster sunset.  I decided the best had come and gone, but at least I had taken the time to enjoy the brief show. 

Hiking the nearly 2 miles back to the park entrance, I felt a minute sadness. I had come to start a new project, but only a few frames were made.  As I climbed the last hill, I realized, I had also made the infrared frames.  Sitting high on a hill with my tripod and 5D mark II beside me, I put my bag next to me, opened it slightly to remove the infrared camera, and started to view the few frames I made.  A wave of joy filled my body.  It wasn't a total loss.  I left the park with my head up high.  

As for the new project, there's always another day to figure that out.  I'm just glad I was able to recognize an opportunity and not be so focused on the task at hand.