Last fall, my friends Jean and Bob and I decided to go waterfall hunting. We only made it to two before the sun got too low in the sky, but it was a beautiful fall day, and we had a great time. I’ve been so busy trying to get things in order to officially open up shop that I haven’t had much time to look at the images that were made that day. Just a couple of quick glances at a few that immediately stood out either at the time I clicked the shutter or later in breezing through them in Lightroom.

One image in particular that stood out when I clicked the shutter was made as I walked across a bridge at the top of the first waterfall. As I zig zagged from one side to the other, first capturing little pools of water in the afternoon sun, then the gathering swirls of water preparing to plunge down the hillside, I looked up and saw the perfect combination of afternoon sun skimming across gold and yellow tree tops, and a very ominous looking storm cloud that hadn’t been there the last time I looked that direction. I immediately went over to that side of the bridge and took my shots, then continued on to catch up with Bob and Jean who were pretty far ahead of me at this point. Just when I caught up to them on the other side of the falls, the storm cloud dumped its load, seemingly all at once. Thank goodness for cheap plastic ponchos!! I don’t think an umbrella would have done any good even if I hadn’t left it in the back of the car.

Last night I chose this image to print on some samples of the new Signature Worthy papers from Epson, and got my second memorable look at this scene. The creamy, dreamy colors and smooth gradations of tone that were laid down on that sheet of paper immediately wowed me. Signature Worthy indeed.

The first title of the Partakers.Net blog was, “Killing Time: Pity the person who has not yet begun to live for eternity.” With that mindset, it’s been somewhat difficult to deal with the fact that, as a photographer, my product is pieces of paper. How long does paper last? Most of it doesn’t last very long at all before it gets consigned to the landfill. Not much substance to stick my eternal fork into. My current printer’s ink combined with archival paper and proper care is rated to last more than 100 years – a good long time, but still not eternal.

Recently I was reminded, however, that photographs often outlast the person depicted in them for at least a generation or two, maybe longer if properly cared for. And it’s often the photographs left behind that define a life for later generations. I have several pictures of my maternal grandmother who died before I was old enough to remember her. Those pictures and a few stories ARE my grandma, not in the sense of her soul being captured by the photograph as some believe, but in the sense that they are the only representations I have of her life. Add a few memories of my own for my other grandparents, who have all died long ago, and all of the sudden, those photographs take on a significance that I haven’t thought about nearly enough.

So, it was with quite a bit of surprise that I got home from a portrait session recently, and as I was looking through the images for the first time, I kept sensing this little whisper in the back of my mind . . . . “Look . . . . look.”

“Look at what?”

“Look.”

And then I saw it. In a glance between husband and wife, I saw that ephemeral aspect of their lives that truly does represent something eternal.

I got to capture THAT moment? Yes – that moment of joy is now captured for a lifetime and more. What a privilege!

Now that I know it’s there and that it can be captured, I’ll be on the lookout for those eternal moments.