Earlier in the month, I was driving home and noticed the star on the mountainside was all aglow as it had been every night since Independence Day. Normally, they turn it on the evening of the 4th after the fireworks, the lightbulbs are red, white, and blue, and we all celebrate. Then it’s off again until the end of the year. This year, the lights were white and they shone each night for 20 not-actually-consecutive nights in honor of the firefighters who lost their lives in Arizona in June (as Gabe found out when he asked at the library)
I thought I’d stop to take a picture. I used the camera on my tablet because it does better in the dark than my Adventure Olympus. Of course, it was important to post the pic to Facebook because, you know, proof and all. I walked from where I was parked over to the town library and sat by the door, sucking out wifi, uploading my starry-night goodness. Once I had finished the task, I stood, walked down the ramp, looked up and saw the star on the mountainside to my right and a crescent moon rising next to the mountain in front of me. It was an amazing sight.
The thing is, it was one of those moments, the kind I wish I could capture forever to replay in my future olden days. I regretted not having a better camera, one that does night pictures with grace and ease. It’s a regret I often have, actually, but it’s not something I want to use money to rectify because there are other things that need purchasing over a camera. You know, like my vast and crippling student loans.
Anyway, if I owned a good camera complete with filters and all that jazz, I would have been able to run home, grab it and the tripod, then run back down the street to an even better vantage point and get some seriously amazing shots. You have no idea what a phenomenal photographer I would be if only…
As it is, I have to make due with this and the memory of what I saw. And if you’re all, “Uh, no, that would be a stupid picture,” here it is without the graffiti, completely untouched. Can you not see the potential?