"A Certain Slant of Light" (thank you, Emily Dickinson)

It’s been a lovely and lengthy fall here in the Blue Ridge—the leaves are just now beginning to surrender to the inevitable.  So perhaps you’re wondering why I haven’t posted the obligatory mountain autumn splendor shot that is the responsibility of every mountain blogger.  

Well, for one thing, it’s been a busy fall at the Blue Ridge Blue Collar doublewide estate.  We haven’t had a chance lately to make it up to the Blue Ridge Parkway or any other of our usual favorite hiking spots.  And the truth is, although I’ve taken a number of shots in my community, I haven’t felt as though a single one did autumn justice.  So often I fail to convey in my photos what I actually see.  How do I capture the purity and holiness of the light this time of year?  How do I communicate to you that the way the light shone through the golden leaves made me catch my breath? 

Last week, we had a couple of those days where the clouds tumble swiftly across the azure sky, and cloud shadows and light play across the hills and the light swirls and sweeps across the red, yellow, and orange ridges of the blue mountains, and it’s all so beautiful that you feel like crying.  And how can you capture that?

Nevertheless, there’s something to be said for just the effort of trying to share a bit of my world, even when I feel I’ve fallen short.  So this is my closest approximation of what I saw as I walked down my driveway as the sun set, and the golden light broke through the overcast and illuminated the valley and the trees and left the mountains, who usually dominate the show, in darkness.  And it pricked my heart and made me catch my breath.  I wish you could have been here.  But since you weren’t, I hope this suffices.  

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