Autumnal equinox in the northern latitudes. September. A week in Ogunquit, Maine. A tiny place but close to the beach and the river.
There are more people on the beach to see the dawn than I ever expected — there just for the peace and the beauty. Before the sun is up, the mist hangs on the sand.
Quiet this time of year. Most tourists are gone, now, so the streets aren’t crowded.
The moment there is a hint of sun, the mist disappears in a matter of seconds.
There is no more perfect time to be on the seashore of Maine than the very earliest part of Autumn.
Comes the sun …
If you are a photographer, you make take it as a sign that God loves you when having hauled your reluctant body out of bed while it’s still dark, then hike half a mile carrying all your gear to the beach while all the starving blood-sucking insects in the state gather to enjoy you as their breakfast buffet.
Suffer for your art? But you get a reward that is more than worth any and all of your efforts, because before you, as the mist burns away, a sunrise and a golden sun so breathtaking rises before you … and you are there and ready.
People of all ages walk along the water before dawn.
This is a day when your camera works perfectly, your batteries don’t run out, your lens is in perfect alignment, your eyes see and you capture exactly what you want to capture … and everything is in focus.
Then come the birds … terns, plovers, and gulls … Breakfast for the feathered residents.
Tiny plovers comfortably share the shore with one Great Black Backed Gull.
It doesn’t happen often. When it does, when it all comes together perfectly … then you must treasure it … savor it … and share it.
At times like these, it makes you remember why you started taking pictures in the first place.
The rising sun reflects on the sand as if it were polished glass.
That morning I discovered wet sand reflects light like a mirror. You can see the way the tide changes the shape of the sand along the shore.
The big seagull seems to be waiting for the sun to come up dissipating the last of the early mist.
The colors change from one second to the next.
Each moment is more beautiful than the one before it. Really, the entire time is probably no more than half an hour, but it’s a lifetime of beauty.
Then, final gold before full sunlight.
Later, I walked to the river and found this house. This is the Ogunquit River, just about a quarter of a mile before it joins the ocean. The house is virtually part of the river.
The only way I could find to get across the river to the house was by this “bridge,” really just a piece of wood across the rapids and falls. I declined to test it.
What happens in times of flood? Interesting place to build!
And finally, on my way back to our room, I found a hint of autumn near the beach in a small woodland area between the marsh and the shore.