The kids and I went to the Farmer’s Market recently. It was a beautiful morning, and after walking the street lined with plants, produce, and homemade baked goods, we ducked in our favorite little French bakery for coffee, baguettes, and pain au chocolates. At the booth just outside of the bakery, we purchased these strawberries to round out our breakfast.
They were lovely. Bright red. Piled high in a nostalgic little wooden basket. I tried hard to get a good shot of them, but I was really struggling with the position and intensity of the sunlight. I tried all kinds of things to improve the shot, but nothing seemed to work — the light spilling in from the window next to our corner table was just too bright. The shadows too dark.
Intense light reveals intense darkness. It’s like that in photography. It’s like that in life. Isn’t it?
The funny thing is there are many things technically wrong with this picture, but I like it. I like the way the light makes the berries shine. The way they sit ready to be eaten by eager little hands. The way they remind me of a slow morning walk where we must have looked like a mama duck leading her little ducklings, littlest one lagging behind.
Close-up photography does something almost unexplainable for me. It takes the littlest and simplest things — the ones that seem almost insignificant — and elevates them into treasured, frozen moments that remain with me for a lifetime.
