What The Camera Saw: A Dinosaur and a Sunset

“Look mom, it is a dinosaur!” The little boy’s piping voice made us smile, Doug and I had thought the piece of driftwood very playful also. So much so that we set up our cameras to catch our final sunset around this wood that invited flights of fancy. The family continued walking the shore of the sound as their little ones spun tales of ancient beasts. My heart caught and warmed all at the same time, for the parents entered right into the stories, encouraging their imaginations. And tears filled my eyes, for the small tribe reminded me of a time long past. It was the perfect last night at the Outer Banks, this is what the camera saw that evening.

As we scouted a place to shoot from, we stopped to just to take in the beauty of the sky reflected in the sound. The water was so still
As we scouted a place to shoot from, we stopped to just to take in the beauty of the sky reflected in the sound. The water was so still.
Not even a ripple marred the surface.
Not even a ripple marred the surface.
The light started to change, the first few moments when everything goes golden.
The light started to change, the first few moments when everything goes golden.
The driftwood and the setting sun was golden. I saw a person, head bent in thought. But it also seemed as if all humanity gathered at that small spot in time. So ancient is the repetion of the setting sun, yet never old, never the same.
The driftwood and the setting sun was golden. I saw a person, head bent in thought. But it also seemed as if all humanity gathered at that small spot in time. So ancient is the repetiton of the setting sun, yet never old, never the same.

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And in a breath, the sun has set.
And in a breath, the sun had set.
I think that is when the show is only getting started. The lead actor may have left the stage, the then the colors come to play.
I think that is when the show is only getting started. The lead actor may have left the stage, then the colors come to play.

 

And play they do, unscripted and free of the sun's almost blinding light.
And play they do, unscripted and free of the sun’s almost blinding light.
From gold, to orange, purples and pinks, back to blue and orange, the light show was every changing.
From gold, to orange, purples and pinks, back to blue and orange, the light show was ever changing.
The sound still quiet, continued to reflect the sky.
The sound still quiet, continued to reflect the sky.
And then it was night.
And then it was night.

 

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Terri Written by:

I am a wife and mother of two sons. Our eldest, Justin, was killed in a car accident September 27, 2010, he was 25 years old.

13 Comments

  1. October 2, 2015

    Breathtaking!

    • October 3, 2015

      Thank you Andrea! Mother Nature provided quite the show that last night. Thinking of you, love the pictures you are posting.

  2. Susan Rice
    October 2, 2015

    Absolutely stunning, Terri!

    • October 3, 2015

      Thank you Susan! One of those magical evenings where it all worked! I hope you are having a wonderful Fall season.

  3. Liz Hansen
    October 2, 2015

    Your comment on the first picture of the driftwood during the sunset (it reminds me of a wizard’s staff!) made me immediately think of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ idea of inscape — that the sum total of the mysteries of creation, of the ways of God, could be contained in or reflected in something tiny like a snowflake or a feather. I’m probably mauling his definition (literary theory is not my forte 😉 but I find it so beautiful and relatable, especially if you have a sacramental mindset.

    So thank you for sharing! You’ve been on my heart this past week.

    • October 3, 2015

      Hello Liz! Wasn’t that an amazing piece of driftwood, I can see the wizard’s staff! You didn’t maul Hopkin’s idea at all, thank you for sharing his thought – I don’t feel like a loon anymore.

      Thank you for your thoughts and prayers, it is a hard week. And thank you for taking the time to visit and write, I know your time is not your own – thank you for the gift of your time.

      I hope you and your house have a wonderful fall, filled with all those things that make the season so special.

  4. October 5, 2015

    This was gorgeous and I love watching nature through your lens. I love watching it and how colors dance and play to create a wonder like nowhere else. Stunning. It takes a special person like you to notice and craft a post for us to enjoy.

    • October 5, 2015

      Dear Cathy,

      Thank you so much for the gift of your time and your gift of encouraging words. I have been a snapping, snarling mess this morning, and your words created such a place of peace for me. Wishing you much peace today and some moments to enjoy this October day.

  5. October 5, 2015

    Very, very beautiful. That first one is almost surreal.

  6. October 5, 2015

    Lovely post. Makes me cry. Maybe for the magical times I had with my two boys when they were small. Now they’re grown and so much has changed. I wish I’d been a photographer back then to capture more of the sights you show here.

    • October 5, 2015

      Thank you Alexandra. I had two boys also, and those times were magical weren’t they, everything was an adventure. I miss those snuggling hugs and little hands filled with all the treasures they had found. Wishing you a peace filled day.

  7. October 5, 2015

    First visit here. Breathtaking pictures. And so sorry for your loss.

    • October 5, 2015

      Hello Beverly! Thank you so much for the gift of your time and kind words. Thank you also for your words of sympathy. He was a really neat kid. Wishing you a peaceful afternoon.

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