Spring in the Adirondacks is a loose concept, a fickle time, wherein anything is possible. Biting winds and wet snow give way overnight to bright warm sunshine, temping us to tuck away those layers and shovels, only to be greeted the next morning by sheets of ice and slushy sidewalks.
And while we might not be able to decide what to wear on any given day, there is a grander picture surrounding us. Also at the mercy of this roller coaster of weather sits a landscape struggling to wake up from its winters rest. Fields begin to wake up, ice retreats leaving vast planes of glassy slate blue water and little bulbs bravely shoot up through the cold soil in search of sunshine.
This world between seasons is a playground of tones and textures. I am seeing more in black and white, looking for tonal shifts and light variations. Therein lies a feeling that when you strip a moment down, remove the extraneous color data and look into its core, the message feels simpler. Direct.
It's not just the landscape struggling this time of year. We humans are yearning for the warmth, the light, the awakening. And sometimes a patch of sunlight is just the comfort we need.