Quiet this time of year. Most tourists are gone, now, so the streets aren’t crowded.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.