Lighting on the Run
I’m standing over a Colorado mountain precipice, caught in a sudden blizzard, 45 minutes from the nearest paved road. My fingers can no longer feel the camera they clutch. A mere black suit and white gown cover the man and woman huddled together in front of me, as my wife Eileen runs to them with an umbrella.
She aims it at them. I pull the trigger.
This is not where I pictured myself just an hour ago when we left in the early morning from Vail Cascade, a peaceful resort perched in a warm nest of yellow and orange trees clinging to late autumn. Yesterday had been the most beautiful wedding. Jackets lay on the backs of chairs. The bride danced in the sunshine, its rays warming her bare shoulders. Now she grasps for a thin gray fleece. According to the error warning flashing behind the condensation on my Speedlight display, it won’t be enough. We’re frozen.
