I've had no fewer than a dozen clear-miracles happen in my life. There's not a doubt in my mind -- in fact, quite the opposite -- that the miracles of my life are, yes, miracles.
What's this got to do with a photographer's blog?
My family had a meeting that families sometimes (infrequently) have to have. The entire meeting was about my mom, who passed in March. Long story short -- long long long story short -- we leave the meeting and about five minutes later, on the outskirts of town, sits this gorgeous barred owl. My mom collected owls, and loved them dearly. She was, in so many ways, almost parallel with the stereotypes of owls. In loving owls, she in fact saw herself in them.
My point? First, it was a miracle. I'll say that the owl not only looked at me as would've my mom, but it did a distinct movement of its body that I've seen only one other person, ever, do -- my mom. But, as a photographer? I had a camera and the right lens in the back seat of my car. I stopped the car, reached back, got the camera ready, stepped out of the car (thinking the owl would immediately fly off, which they typically do when they see you looking at them) and was awed that the owl.... just sat. It didn't waver in its calm demeanor, and even, as stated, did an idiosyncratic gesture that absolutely convinced me.....
This was a two-lane "country" road, one of my favorite roads in the state in its meandering agricultural natural beauty, but was, oddly for owls, about 10am. There was no reason for this owl to be out in daylight, and equally no reason for it to sitting where it was as I happened to drive past.
Carry a camera. Look around. We don't get miracles often, nor do we need to, but we do get moments more frequently that take our breath away, and that's enough for me.
The owl, by the way, stayed perfectly contently in this spot until a large truck came toward us from the opposite direction, at which point the owl turned and flew into the woods. Read More