More and more frequently I am finding with my photography that the initial reason I'm drawn to a location to photograph often becomes an invitation to find the real opportunity for me being there.
Recently, after a number of weeks of mostly overcast days, the weekend in Atlanta arrived a bit cooler but with absolutely clear, blue skies. There were a number of locations I wanted to photograph that were best done while the trees were still without their leaves.
On Saturday afternoon I spent an hour or so photographing at my last location, and I then decided to drive down the road a bit before I lost the light. A mile or so along the way, I noticed an old homestead being illuminated by the low sun as it scraped across the tops of a row of tress. Following my "u-turn" advice, I encountered a sudden steady stream of oncoming traffic, making it almost impossible to turn into the small fenced entrance to the property. Eventually I successfully made my way across.
Then after making photographs of the abandoned house, which was surrounded by trees that had to be at least one hundred years old, I turned to walk back to my car. The sun hit my face as it filtered through the early buds blossoming on one of the trees, so I stopped to see if there was a photograph. Continuing on to my car without photographing, I shifted my gaze to find the field and forest on my left ablaze with light. The early leaves, blossoms and tall grass were glowing - almost from within. This scene, interwoven with the totally bare forest behind it, created an abstract and layered representation of a new forest emerging from a long slumber within the old.