Talking Excitingly

What’s the saying, “Any light in a storm?”
 
I’m not sure a string of ferry lights outside a bar really warrants being mentioned in connection with that saying, but… you know, sometimes you just have to let the mind go where the mind wants to go when it sees an image.
 
And maybe not in the moment. When I was just wasting time, waiting for the kiddo to scrape three feet of snow off the truck so we could meet up for coffee and a day of skiing, that definitely wasn’t the vibe.
 
In the early morning hours, I awkwardly stood on an icy, snow-covered bench, lifting my camera high above my head, trying to capture the flickery on-and-off glow of frozen lights, while workers with shovels and snow blowers raced to get Palisades open before the throngs of day guests flowed into the village.
 
But later, once I saw this image in Lightroom, my mind kept racing back to that saying.
And while I’m not sure I actually believe it’s true, it does make me thankful for all the lights that have guided me through the dark over the past few years.
 
All of the people who have chosen, in big and small ways, sometimes knowingly, and more often without even realizing it, to glow.

How their glow has helped me stay sane in an increasingly insane world.
How their glow has helped me deal with anxiety and panic.
How their glow has helped me find the strength to work on my own mental health.
How their glow has helped me start setting boundaries.
How their glow has helped me find moments of peace to be about.
 
So while maybe we don’t want to follow any light in a storm, I know I’m deeply thankful to be entering 2026 with so many beautiful souls who provide light in mine.
 

Some pictures… especially the ones captured in the waning moments of the year… practically beg for a caption that ponders and wanders its way through reflection.
So… this is not going to be one of those posts. LOL.
 
Other than the literal reflection on the calm waters of the Truckee River, this moment wasn’t about reflecting. It was about purpose.
 
Lake Tahoe is quickly starting to feel like a second home. I’ve traveled to this beautiful speck of land three times in the last twelve months to visit my son as he chases his dreams.
 
And on every trip, I’ve driven alongside the Truckee over and over again, saying to myself, I need to photograph this river. Day after day, though, I’ve been seduced by the lake, the slopes, or sleep, and I skipped ever finding a place to pull over along 89 to photograph this quintessential alpine river.
 
This time was different.
 
The day before, I marked a spot on my map where I could park. And on my last morning in Olympic Valley, I shimmyed into long underwear and snow pants, braved the 11-degree air, and went looking for a moment that would get me .
And boy, did it ever.
 
Because this river. This reflection. This snowy landscape. This calm, meditative pause, found through intention and purpose, left me not wanting to leave Tahoe at all.
 
Well… at least until I got stuck in resort traffic, surrounded by people racing to get first tracks of the day.
 

Whether religious or not, it is hard not to feel a spiritual pull when a stately church spire stands tall, steady, and unmoved as time and light race around it in the predawn sky.
 
On this brisk morning adventure, I was on a mission to capture that exact moment and energy. After walking past St. Mary Redcliffe Church countless times over two days, my mind’s eye had been forming this perspective again and again. So, with camera in hand, I hit the roads, walking out of central Bristol as early-morning commuters streamed in. Head down against the whipping wind, I tried to ignore the cross streets slowly coming to life.
 
When I finally found a small corner sidewalk in the middle of a busy traffic circle, I ignored the constant pitter-patter of feet stepping around me and dropped down onto the dirty concrete, hoping to capture a moment that would get me . Instead, I captured something more. I captured a moment that made me feel more spiritually connected to the world around me, if only for a second.