Summer is in full swing and so is field season. Daylight hours are at a premium leaving little time to rest between sunsets and sunrises. Breakfasts and dinners are inhaled on the road and snacks are a main staple while in motion. Between applications of bug dope and sunscreen, I struggle to keep my hands free of oils, which more often than not find their way onto my equipment and are a pain to clean.
The mornings are earlier than my stomach can handle. It’s even too soon for coffee—sometimes. My body thinks I’m still sleeping while my brain struggles to reboot. By lunch, I’m ready for a nap and far too jittery for a third or fourth cup of coffee. It’s time to replenish my depleted hydration and focus on eating enough food to bridge the morning to the evening working hours.
Staying inspired is a challenge and hard to muster when the weather is poor or the itinerary falls apart. Predicting whether sunset will be an explosion of colors or a waterlogged firework goes far beyond a weather forecast. We’re in New England after all. It can come down to dumb luck and being in the right place at the right time. It’s a maniacal game us photographers play to find the best light, in the appropriate setting, at the exact time we expect it to take place. Waiting patiently for the light, I sometimes feel like Charlie Brown’s friend, Linus, anxiously anticipating the rise of the Great Pumpkin in the pumpkin patch. Sometimes the stars align and the mythical pumpkin, the sun in this case, puts on a show that wins the lady (Sally). Other times, it can feel like buying front row seats for a concert and the band never shows up. After a long, hot day of standing in the relentless sun being ambushed by blood-thirsty insects, a missed opportunity at sunset is deflating.
“It’s a maniacal game us photographers play to find the best light, in the appropriate setting, at the exact time we expect it to take place. ”
By the time I’ve made it to bed and have had a chance to unwind and close my eyes, dawn begins to break. I bury myself deeper in my sheets, but I know the optimal light doesn’t last for long. Fortunately, there have been many moments of brilliance this summer. I’ve been able to work on some incredible projects from Maine to Massachusetts. The inspiring landscapes I photograph and people I get to meet and interview make the early mornings and late nights that much more rewarding.
The sun is already beginning to rise later and set earlier. Eventually, I’ll be able to eat meals at home before the light breaks on the horizon. The field season will begin to dwindle soon and the harvest of footage compiled over the last few months will be brought to market to be turned into short- and full-length films. A bounty of beauty in a glimmer of time.
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