Rebecca and I headed up the mountain last August, just after I had lost a close friend and spent the day in the sun. The burned trees offer no shade but we did enjoy the rain on the hike back, at one point picnicking under the Dragon’s Back in the middle of a sun shower, the rain dazzling like falling flecks of gold.
Since the fire, I am most drawn to the east side of the mountain, the side that faces my home. At first, I went to document the damage, now I go to look for signs of life. In 2012 there was a lot of life and it translated into less destruction down below when the sky clouded up. I didn’t spend the summer fighting water and it became the most successful year for me as a photographer, not because I took a lot of successful photographs but because I developed a relationship with my camera, with my art and with myself.
Chasing the storm and the next photograph was all I wanted to do last summer and so that’s what I did. I sat alone watching the radar. I sat alone watching the clouds roll in. I loved every moment alone even the lonely ones. I loved those the most.
I don’t ever stop thinking about rain, even when it’s snowing. It’s the place I go whenever I need a place to go. I stare at the clouds building on the horizon. I imagine the way it builds, how it can take an entire day of sitting in the grass, alone.
It is the one place I know where there is nothing wrong. There are no problems anywhere else that need to be worried about because there is no plan to come back and it isn’t until it feels just right, that I will come home.