I Told You So (But It Doesn't Matter, Anyway)

At the tail end of September my Dad stopped in with a proposition. "What do you think," he asked, "about me coming to pick you up early one morning and driving you around to take some pictures?" He thought my fancy camera could better capture the beautiful fall we were having-- "The best in 10-15 years!!!" his handwriting later proclaimed on his calender. He offered himself as chauffeur and volunteered Mom as babysitter before rhapsodizing about that morning's brilliant blue sky and the hillside hues.  I shrugged an assent and advised that he pick a foggy morning or a gray day if he wanted the colors to shine. 

Even though I explained that a bright blue sky would make the colors appear washed out even with my fancy camera, and then reminded him again over the phone before he came to pick me up, sure enough, a few days later as I was finishing breakfast, he chose a bright, sunlit morning for our foray.

He drove around the block with me, which is what we call the 6-mile stretch of connected country roads that form our best version of a city block. Then began the closest I'll ever come to being a cinematographer.  Every few minutes, Dad abruptly pulled the van over, pointed out what piece of color he wanted me to take a picture of, and even from what angle to take it.  "Stand there, under the sumac," he directed, "and point your camera upward."

So I did.






"There!  Walk up the bank and get that golden tree in the patch of light!"

So I did.

 

And, Andy, he wanted me to email you this picture of vines on your barn.

The main reason he took me out was to take a picture of these trees, though, and he was disappointed when I told him I lacked the skill to do them justice on a sunny day.  Though the colors were stunning in real life, the pictures I took fell far too short.

I took the following picture the very next morning and intended to show it to my Dad after I blogged it. It was to serve as the Final Proof that I was right about the lighting that best showcases fall foliage. It's kind of pointless now. He never saw any of these pictures, and what fills his eyes as I type is glory-swelled beyond words.

I don't know where to begin. September first, I guess, before marching on to October.