PHOTO BLOG

Descent Phase

It will surprise no one to learn that I've never been nonchalant when it comes to air travel. I have often pondered how fellow passengers could be more interested in reading or dozing than thrilling to the sensation of jet engines cranking at full throttle to hurtle several tons of jetliner and occupants into the air. In these moments I always imagine myself as an astronaut. As the plane would level out at cruising altitude my interest does not wane as I spend much of the flight gazing out at the sky and clouds, all the while sensing even the slightest nuance in the flightpath or engine noise. The part that always gets to me is that spooky feeling of weightlessness as the plane enters the descent phase. Mixed emotions for me, as the surreal 'above earth' time comes to an end but coupled with the strong desire to return to earth. And the anticipation of crossing the boundary layer that separate the two. Similar feeling begin to cross my mind as we enter late winter-early spring. My mind and body yearn for the return of warmth. I am fatigued with the anxiety of driving the winter roads, of having to don survival gear just to go walk the dog, of having to be preoccupied with weather reports. I want to plant my garden, mow grass, and do summer things. But I know that will bring an end to days like the one I captured here in an old burial ground. This is one reason I move out as if on an ambulance call when the fog rolls in over late season snow. I simply can't take a chance that I'll get another opportunity. I've visited this place in all four seasons, and great photos are possible year round. But the sensation on a day like this is of being in an enchanted, or perhaps haunted (I'm good either way) forest and it's like no other. Weeks later and I still feel this energy and I know it will stay with me. That experience alone would have made this exploration worth the effort. But to have the memory and the photos, that's truly magic. This photo is as near as I can bring you to actually standing alongside me in this place and time.

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David Dreimiller