“An early morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.”
Henry David Thoreau wrote that in his journal on April 20, 1850. I think I know what he was talking about.
I was up and out the door before it was light today. Snagging coffee at the all night convenience on Congress Street, I made for the East End. The sky was just starting to glow off toward Chebeaugue Island when I got there.
Stepping out of my truck, I met an almost chilly breeze. I zipped my jacket, breathed deep and strode off down the hill with a camera dangling from each shoulder.
Nothing feels better than the familiar weight of those cameras on a cool, clear morning. I never tire of making pictures. It’s when I feel most alive and in touch with my world — like I’m really seeing it. Looking for pictures — hunting for the meaning and stories behind the shapes, colors and faces of this city — never gets old.
How could a morning walk like this be anything but a blessing?
This is how I’ve made my living for two decades now. I’m a lucky so-and-so, and don’t I know it.
