A few days ago, after a long day in the office, I had the opportunity to join my roommate Katie on an evening photoshoot with a beginning digital photo class – taught by instructor Tom Griscom and TA’ed by our new friend Spencer. As the sun sank lower in the sky, we all piled in the car and zoomed off into the hills.
We ended up at Beech Hill, a glorious expanse of blueberry fields rolling and gleaming in the golden evening light. Their gentle undulations and brilliant color, with the green of the valleys unfolding below us, were surprisingly reminiscent of Tuscany. As Tom and Spencer enthusiastically encouraged their students, brandishing reflectors and speedlites, Katie and I wandered up to the top of the hill. The entirety of the coastline spread below us, islands picturesque in the evening sun; at the top of the hill stood a single stone building with a flowering, grassy roof. Crickets chirped, the grass rustled faintly in the breeze, and all was magic quietness save for the distant exclamations of the photo class in the distance. It was breathtaking.
Soon enough, the rest of the class caught up with us, to their total delight. For the rest of the evening, we ran around in the grass, giddy like children with our cameras, snapping portraits of each other in the setting sun. The sky faded from its evening blue to rose and finally a deep indigo as stars began to emerge above us. We wandered back to the car by the light of our cell phones, tripping over roots, laughing. We ended up at a bar with Tom, drinking beer and talking about lighting equipment.
On the way home, Spencer drove into the woods. We just have to make one quick stop, see this one thing. He parked on the side of a dirt road and we followed a narrow path to the seashore, to a granite slab nestled in the ebb and flow of the gentle nighttime ocean. We all sat down on the warm stone and silence settled in. Stars blazed above us; around us; filling the entirety of the sky down to the distant horizon. A subtle glow from some distant town reflected blue in the water’s calm surface. I searched for constellations; we listened to the music of the water gently surging amongst the rocks. Its sound wrapped around us like silk, like drifting into space. A long time passed before anyone spoke, and when finally we returned home and I fell asleep, my dreams were full of stars and infinity and the depth of the ocean.
(photos: Spencer Worthley, and myself).