Itís kinda weird, waking up and thinking about what my picture will be for the day. Itís been so long. Sometimes I have an idea of what I want to say and I take a picture to help express that. Other days I go out and find a picture that says what it wants to say. Today was one of those days.
I went out at dusk with my camera and stopped near some woods. These woods looked foreboding from the road. They were the kind of woods that you pass on the highway glad that you are doing 60 mph and sipping on a triple venti sugar free, non fat, no foam, extra caramel, macchiato...with whip. The kind of woods that certainly have secrets hidden in them, secrets that should remain secrets.
I put my back backpack on, grabbed my tripod and headed in. As I walked the snow was crunching under my feet. Loud enough that I kept thinking I heard something but wasnít sure, so I stopped. And waited. Nothing. Further into the woods I went, to the point that I couldnít see or hear the road anymore. I sat down on a rock, discouraged that, while creepy, there was nothing to photograph.
While Iím sitting there taking pictures of my boots, the ice, tree roots, whatever.....I hear a scream. A loud scream. Now, I am positive it was an animal but the light was low and it was time to go. Just then I hear what sounds like the trees conspiring against me. Branches are clicking and scraping around me, reaching out to grab me, to keep me here. People were driving by at 60 mph glad they werenít in here, and having no idea that I was. Blair Witch came to mind. People like me are never found. Ever.
I look up to the sound of the clicking and watch the branches in the wind, playing a rhythmic song meant to make me uneasy. Meant to make me leave and I am happy to oblige. As I am looking up I think ďThatís it. Thatís the picture that will show people what these woods are like." I set up, the light is crazy low. My hands barely work. As I go to take the picture the wind dies, as if to give me what I want so that I will leave this place. I get a few shots, throw my backpack on, throw my tripod and camera over my shoulder and back track to my truck.
Once in my truck I donít even look at the camera. I just sit there and think about what I missed about this hobby. I used to love making light work for me. Making a picture that expresses my thoughts. While I enjoy writing, a picture should stand on itís own and I think this one does. My trip today was every bit as creepy as this picture lends and I took it for no other reason than to take it.
Today was one of those days.