Anatomy of a Composition - Colorado Autumn

I love this hike. I love this view. Truthfully, I love the freedom of this hike. I love the feel of this place, at this time of year.  The damp earth, the smell of decay that’s just beginning to take place, that smell mixes in the air with  residual campfire smoke - the duality of clinging to life and accepting its passing.

This year was a struggle though. I was on my second night out, that time in the trip when I normally feel the tensions of my world slip away and fall into the rhythm of a deep night's sleep and an early morning sunrise - facing the day so completely that no intrusion can take hold.  But not this year. 

The anxiety of a new school year, in a new setting with a whole new set of responsibilities was hanging heavy from my shoulders. The anxiousness of being out for a fall trip, one I had missed the year before only compounded my unease.  I’d forgotten to place a forwarding message in my email when I’d left - something I was so unaccustomed to doing - so anytime I opened a device to check the weather or look for Aurora updates, I was left staring down unattended correspondences, It would be an over-exaggeration to say these messages and inquires ruined my trip, but the paralysis they left me with certainly did their part in stealing pieces of my joy. 

This hike is forgiving and so rewarding. The path winds through groves and stands, offering stunning views as well as secluded tunnels of trees. The rolling nature makes you forget how far you’ve gone, but attempting to cheat the time it actually takes will cause you to lose more than just the views, you will miss the joy of the moment. 

This was my dilemma - try to rush to find a perfect view, letting incomplete work naw at my peace of mind, or slowing down, appreciating each step and each new scene that revealed itself, worrying less about a specific image and just appreciating what autumn  was set to offer.

I can’t deny that this feeling lingered as I returned to Denver and returned to my work.  I can’t honestly say how much it weighed on me as I went through that Tuesday and Wednesday.  But waking up that next day, Thursday, having emptied my office and saying parting words to the two remaining staff, I realized that I had let some very important things go, while at the same time pushing open doors that have long been closed to me.

Colorado Autumn - Sony a7rv & FE 70-200 GM - ISO 320 | F/9 | 1/1000 sec ~ 70mm - single image