The Lake Out My Door

I lived here for a while, and that is the only reason this frame exists. Nobody crosses the city on the chance that a Thursday evening in October turns into something. You go out because you are already home and the light has started doing something, and the cost of being wrong is a walk. Most of those evenings come to nothing. This one did not.

The reeds are the picture. I got low enough to shoot through them rather than over them, which stacks the lake into bands: grass first, then the gold on the water, then the far bank starting to turn, then whatever the cloud deck has left. Standing up, this is a photograph of a lake. Down at reed height it is a photograph of an evening.

The tree on the left does the other half of the work. It holds the sun without covering it, so the light comes through the leaves instead of around them, and that whole side of the frame goes to silhouette without going to black.

Green Lake keeps turning up here. Four posts now, all of them 2010, which was never a plan. It is what happens when the good light is out your door and you have nothing better to do with it.