Dawn broke with a peach sky out the window of our rented vacation home. It was hard to convince myself to get out of bed at that hour but I did it anyway. Grabbed my camera and quietly stole from the house, leaving behind 15 sleeping family members. The pink was gone from the sky by the time I got to the field where the Steamboat Balloon Rodeo launched, but there were already hundreds of early risers there to witness the bloom of these inflated rainbows and their wondrous bouyancy.
Sometimes being alone in a crowd with my Nikon as a companion is the most comfortable place I can imagine. I don't have to talk. All I have to do is walk, look, listen, and click.
I remembered, in this little gift of a morning to myself, that the camera in my hands heightens my senses. This practice has taken a back seat to my other duties lately and to the busyness that snuffs out spontaneity and personal creation. Here, as a quiet observer in the midst of a carnival morning, I had the luxury of introversion and silence. Click.
Balloons are not precision aircraft. They are a primitive, if beautiful, means of defying the laws that bind us to earth. They were breathtaking in their sheer unlikeliness, up there in the mountain morning. In the silence between the click click click I toyed with the idea of bouyancy. Maybe it's simpler than it seems to float. Maybe there's room for this sensation in my life: quiet, expansive, and weightless. And maybe the simplest way will be the most beautiful.