"I wish I were in Italy right now," I thought. Then, suddenly, I became aware of my mental complaining. Sometimes the camera will do that to you. It wants to find something exotic. On this particular morning my macchina fotografica wanted an italic slant on things. All I could give it was a simple walk around the hood which is actually good practice for the mind's eye. If you can make images in suburbia you can make them anywhere.
Generally, come the month of February, I start getting antsy. The nesting instinct starts getting old. I look at the migratory birds and wonder when I might fly somewhere for the new season. Pretty soon our feathered friends are leaving this habitat. I might like to go with them.
While busy making migratory plans I came across a homely post, set in concrete. "Nothing here," I told myself and my camera. Then I looked with more intent. There actually was something about this tiny scene that appealed to me. I got lost in the moment. A weak, winter sun provided a moment of golden illumination. I made an image. The moment left along with the shaft of sunlight. I felt sprinkles on my back.
Instead of longing for Italy I completed my walk with camera, looking for more images like a hawk does for his breakfast. My step quickened as my anticipation for an exotic journey waned. It was replaced by my desire to get to the studio and see my post picture. When I got back I was not disappointed.