I went out last night and stood in a parking lot by a baseball field. Stood there for an hour, hoping to catch some lightning in the night skies. Mosquitos attacked my head and face, elbow and hand. The weather app on my iPhone said there was a 40% chance of thunderstorms and this time I had my tripod, ready to capture the lightning that might come with them.
There wasnâ€™t a single flash. Not one.
I had set up the camera with long exposure and timed release as the post-sunset skies faded to black. Took a few shots of that so I could get the focus and aperture right.
But then .. nothing. Not a single shot. I waited in hope originally. But by the end of the hour, my wait was fear-based. Fearful that the moment I turned off the camera, there would be some magnificent lightning strike that I would carry as a regret for life.
As I disassembled my set up, climbed back into the car and drove away, there was a feeling of abject failure. It is the kind of failure that you experience after you have raised your hopes so high that you have pre-ordained your own destiny.
It wasnâ€™t until this morning, that I found these two pics which I had taken only to help adjust my camera settings. And as I stared into the wonderful colors of the fading sky, I realized how singularly focused I was to the point where it had stolen my abilities to appreciate what was actually going on around me.
The old saying of not being able to see the forest for the trees rang out loud and clear. I allowed my own focus to overpower my other senses to where I attached the label â€œfailureâ€ to my hour of darkness. As I sit here this morning, cup of coffee in hand and a good nightâ€™s sleep behind me, I look at these pictures and realize the only failure was in me. Thankfully Sony cameras have the ability to overule moments of personal failure and produce their own moments of wonder, regardless.
Hope you have a wonderful week and get to spend some time in the forest rather than the trees.