365 Project

I enjoy my New Year's days with snow. I know that seems like a ridiculous statement, but growing up in midwestern northern Illinois, you could almost always guarantee two things around the New Year: 1. you would most likely have snow, and not just any snow, but usually fresh snow, right off the tail of a New Year's Eve storm, and 2. it would be downright frigid.

Six years ago, I moved away from Illinois to the front range in Colorado, and I was surprised to find out; it's not as snowy there during the winter as one might think. I also spend most of my time on the road in the southwest during winter, and I've come to miss those fresh winter mornings of new snow and that chilly air, especially on New Year's Day.

On the first day of the year, there's something remarkable and familiar about a new cover of pure-driven snow to signal a fresh start. The trees and foliage, covered in a fine layer of snow or ice, sparkle like glitter in the sun. Standing there, taking in the scene, I mused the landscape was getting ready for a fresh start, akin to many of us waking up on those New Year's mornings. The world resembles a clean, untouched canvas, waiting for new memories and experiences to be written.

I was fortunate enough to be in Wyoming this year, right after a blustery snowstorm. New Year's morning found me en route to the Tetons to photograph wintery landscapes. Along the way, I happened to drive past a beautiful winter scene filled with icy trees sparkling in the morning sun and a landscape blanketed with a coating of new snow. Warmer than the surrounding atmosphere, the river sent up ephemeral shapes of steam through the -7 degree air. I inhaled deeply, the cold air rushing through my airways, and that midwest feeling came back for a moment. After many years, I was experiencing a New Year's morning, bringing back the fondest memories of those Midwest days and a perfect way to start 2022 and this new endeavor of a project.

When the alarm went off in the morning, I'll admit, it was a challenge to get up, knowing it was -12 outside. Since this is my career, I get asked often: "Do you get up every day for sunrise?"

I usually chuckle and respond, "no." Some mornings, I'm motivated, but more often than not, the days are filled with work, and that can take away from the willingness to get out early.

But now, as the motivation of this project challenges me to get out into nature every day, that may change. This morning was a good reminder of those quiet moments that I find fulfilling, as the sun rises and the landscape awakens around me. I enjoyed watching the sunrise pink slowly creep in until it crescendoed into a full sky of color, setting a perfect backdrop to the Grand Tetons. Mornings like this make me realize how fortunate I am to have the opportunities to do this, and I never want to take it for granted. So, for those few minutes today before the sunrise, it was me, the mountains, and my thoughts. And oh yes, the cold.

Even though the grandeur of mountain peaks currently surrounds me, I wanted to take some time for the quieter scenes this morning. There was beautiful soft light with the diffused sun through the clouds, and I headed down to the river to photograph the icy foliage. Steam floated above the river, and I got lost in these wintry, small scenes while fingers of steam danced through the landscape.

For me, taking photographs like this is akin to conversing with the scene. I photograph a frame, then stand back, take a few minutes to “listen” with my eyes, scanning the landscape before me. I’ll then make adjustments, follow what I’ve “heard” with my eyes, and this goes on for the next half hour, or, like this morning, until I can no longer feel my toes or fingers.

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