Frozen Mornings
“Nothing burns like the cold.”
I have joined the 52 Frames Community, as some of you may know - which seemed like a great idea. I love photos - learning new things and challenging myself to see a little bit differently. Essentially the way that it works is that you have a weekly challenge to complete and then submit a photo that tries to meet the challenge. At weeks end, the album is created and you are able to see all the submissions from all the members in one space. It is really quite cool.
However - a particular week in February (I am sure many remember) - was a bit chilly. So chilly in fact, that the red in the thermometer did not reach above -35 (and colder with the windchill), for quite some time. The challenge was Golden Hour.
Great.
This can be interpreted in many different ways - however the extra challenge was to create a photo at sunrise during Golden Hour. I decided that this was what I wanted to do - I mean, how hard could that be?
Well - the week passed in miserly fashion, with heavy, dreary, GREY clouds from dawn to dusk. Leaving one morning with the slim chance that there might be a sunrise for maybe an hour - which would leave hours to spare in meeting the submission deadline.
7 am. Blustery winds, minus 45 with the windchill - well here goes nothing I thought.
I will not describe the cold. I will just say that I am forever grateful for long underware, snow boots, toques - but most importantly…heated seats and the fact my camera is tougher than I am. I am actually surprised that I came home with as many photos as I did, as even with layers and gloves, I could not actually feel the dials or tell if I was moving the shutter or aperture any which way. I also managed to freeze my scarf to my camera and fog the viewfinder up - rendering the light meter a moot point. I operated completely by feel.
But that sky. It was beautiful - it was on fire. Even worth standing in the middle of a road, buffeted by northern winds, freezing my eyelashes to my eye lids, traversing dirt roads like the Micheline Man and wondering if all my fingers were going to make it home. Worth, every moment. And when the sky finally bled out, I headed home - dreaming of the wonders of hot showers and hot coffee and diving into a pile of blankets so deep I would never crawl out of it.
Pulling into our driveway, I saw it. A Sundog. I have never seen one in person - only in photographs.
Who needs hot coffee and hot showers, and to be buried in a pile of blankets so deep they will never emerge… I hoped my fingers would forgive me.
Out I went.
