I oftentimes look up into the night sky and become mesmerized by the moon. It has always been that way. I can remember as a young girl sitting by my window at night and staring at it until my mother would admonish me that it was bedtime, not "moon time"! I made a short-lived attempt at finding a college where I could study astronomy. Short-lived because once I learned how much mathematics were involved in this field, I quickly abandoned the idea. Simply put math is NOT my strong suit. Still, my attraction to that round ball in the sky, captured by the Earth's magnetic pull to eternally circuit our planet, never waned.
When photography opened the way for me to peer at its beauty more closely, my fascination deepened. But in the beginning my cameras were not capable of capturing a detailed view. It made me want one all the more! I would scrimp and save and get just close enough to purchase the necessary camera only to have some bill or household need take precedence over spending the hard-earned cash on a frivolity such as a camera! I'd see the pictures of others or the amazing shots which come from those satellites or spaceships we blast into the universe and start the process all over again thinking, "I'll get it this time!" After four years of this see-saw like cycle, the dream finally became a reality. One summery night I drove down to the boat launch of a nearby river and using the recycling bin as a tripod took my first official moon shot. There was no looking back after that!
There is something within the human spirit that wants to know things that are bigger than itself. There is something that believes in the glorious. We look into the heavens and see the Moon suspended there, floating and drifting across the night sky and sometimes even take for granted that something keeps it from colliding with our Earthly home. But if we take the time to really look at it; to see its bumps, bruises, craters and patterns, we can't help but be amazed by what we see.
One of these nights my neighbors will discover that when the Moon calls to be photographed, that I usually slip outside, pjs hidden underneath a coat, tripod in hand and camera tightened down to it, and walk about my yard until I find the perfect view. They will probably shake their heads and chuckle to themselves, "There she goes again!" as I admit they've seen me just as determined to photograph plants and bugs in my garden. But if they could see what I see through the view finder and later on my computer screen they would understand my fascination. While they smile at my antics, I will smile at sight of that silvery orb and the memory of my mother's voice will sing to me, "I see the moon and the moon sees me..."
Ann H. LeFevre
October 29, 2015
When photography opened the way for me to peer at its beauty more closely, my fascination deepened. But in the beginning my cameras were not capable of capturing a detailed view. It made me want one all the more! I would scrimp and save and get just close enough to purchase the necessary camera only to have some bill or household need take precedence over spending the hard-earned cash on a frivolity such as a camera! I'd see the pictures of others or the amazing shots which come from those satellites or spaceships we blast into the universe and start the process all over again thinking, "I'll get it this time!" After four years of this see-saw like cycle, the dream finally became a reality. One summery night I drove down to the boat launch of a nearby river and using the recycling bin as a tripod took my first official moon shot. There was no looking back after that!
There is something within the human spirit that wants to know things that are bigger than itself. There is something that believes in the glorious. We look into the heavens and see the Moon suspended there, floating and drifting across the night sky and sometimes even take for granted that something keeps it from colliding with our Earthly home. But if we take the time to really look at it; to see its bumps, bruises, craters and patterns, we can't help but be amazed by what we see.
One of these nights my neighbors will discover that when the Moon calls to be photographed, that I usually slip outside, pjs hidden underneath a coat, tripod in hand and camera tightened down to it, and walk about my yard until I find the perfect view. They will probably shake their heads and chuckle to themselves, "There she goes again!" as I admit they've seen me just as determined to photograph plants and bugs in my garden. But if they could see what I see through the view finder and later on my computer screen they would understand my fascination. While they smile at my antics, I will smile at sight of that silvery orb and the memory of my mother's voice will sing to me, "I see the moon and the moon sees me..."
Ann H. LeFevre
October 29, 2015