Years and years ago, I went to visit my sister and her eight million kids at their home in southern Utah. On the day I left to return home, the morning was so beautiful, I couldn’t help but stop along the way out to snap a few photos.
And, yes, I realize it was really only two weeks ago and not actually years, but that’s kinda what it feels like. So there.
Isn’t it amazing how different two photos can be even when they were taken in the same area and right around the same time?
I love photography.
And I love clouds like these. And, no, I didn’t take this picture while going 80 miles per hour. I had slowed down to 70, thank you very much.
This one I took just a half an hour away from home. Remember the fires we had back in November? They completely destroyed these mountains. Just weeks after the damage, we drove past this same spot on our way to my sister’s to celebrate Thanksgiving. The ground was black and it was awful to see how much had burned.
Driving past these mountains now was like staring in the face of Hope. I have never, in my whole life of living in southern California, seen these mountains so green. I felt like I had been picked up and dropped off in another state. Possibly another country. It was amazing. I wish I could have pulled over and taken a dozen more pictures.
Even before the fires, these mountains were always dry and brown and kind of sad. I wish they’d always look like this. They were gorgeous.