▣ Photo
First Light on the Ridge
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A thin fog drifted between the firs like something spilled and left to settle, and the first direct light struck only the highest branches.
Morning light, field notes — frame 2
Morning light, field notes — frame 3
Morning light, field notes — frame 4
At 5:47 the valley held its breath. A thin fog drifted between the firs like something spilled and left to settle, and the first direct light struck only the highest branches, turning them the color of weak tea. I had walked up from the trailhead in the dark, boots wet to the ankle, and now I stood
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