When people I meet ask me if I’m a “birder,” I often reply that I consider myself a photographer, not a birder even though I usually walk where I’m most apt to see birds and I’m consciously looking for birds while I’m walking.
I find it a little ironic, then, that sometimes when I’m expecting to see particular birds and I don’t, or, worse yet, there doesn’t’ seem to be any birds at at, I have to stop and take a deep breath. When I do, I invariably remember that the point of walking is simply to be aware of what is there, to see the beauty that is invariably there if you pay attention to it.
These harebells are nearly everywhere this time of year in the Pacific Northwest, and it’s easy to take their beauty for granted because they’re small and often obscured by the native grasses.
Still, this turned out to be my favorite shot of the day.