Snowstorm in Payson, AZ
The snowstorm in Payson, Arizona, blankets the landscape in a crisp, white serenity that transforms familiar views into a magical winter wonderland. As delicate flakes swirl around, each unique and short lived, I capture the stillness and quietness of the moment. A snowstorm is like a blanket from heaven, glistening as it spins and falls from heaven, perfection and beauty in motion.
A few weeks ago, we received a few inches of snow in our charming town of Payson, AZ. It was a truly beautiful sight to behold and much badly needed for our parched landscape. In a normal year, we can expect to receive around three feet of snow in a typical winter season, but this time around, we’ve only had the one little storm so far. We all hope and pray that we will receive more snow and moisture in general as the winter progresses. This precipitation not only keeps the fire risks down but also makes life significantly easier and more enjoyable in the high desert environment. Being nestled at 5,000 feet, snow and bone-chilling temperatures are quite the norm during the winters here, creating a winter wonderland that we can't help but appreciate!
As I mentioned earlier, I am originally from the state of South Carolina. Most people tend to assume that we don’t receive any snow there at all, but the truth is that they do get snow from time to time. They typically experience only a few inches each year, but every few years, they are fortunate enough to be graced by a real blizzard. The snow here in Arizona is much lighter and fluffier in comparison, presenting such beauty and perfection as it falls from heaven. It resembles a soft blanket gently settling onto the earth. When it glistens in the rare moments of sunlight, it feels like a precious gift from God and it is.
Luckily, I was off of work the day of the snow and was able to play in it all day. I grabbed my Sony A7Cii, a few lenses, and the Voigtlander Vito IIa and had a blast shooting the snow and nature at the park. The ducks and geese were having a blast waddling around in the snow. As I was capturing the beauty and stillness of the moment, I realized how lucky I was to be able to see such a beautiful scene. I may never see another snow storm, but I am grateful to God that I was able to see this one. We didn’t get that much, and it didn’t hang around long, but it was beautiful while it was here.
Life Amongst the Bricks
Photography captures more than just mere images; it beautifully encapsulates moments of raw emotion and profound experience, unveiling intricate stories through the magical interplay of light, shadow, and time. The very act of clicking the shutter is an affirmation of the photographer’s intent, a definitive selection of a single, fleeting frame from the boundless flow of life that surrounds us. This simple yet striking photograph of vibrant flowers bravely emerging from dull bricks is, without a doubt, my favorite capture of the year 2024.
Consider the potent significance of that solitary click—the pivotal heartbeat wherein the photographer and the captured moment converge in a silent conversation. “This one photo speaks volumes,” the artist muses; it’s an acknowledgment that the photo holds an essence that transcends the visual, striking a chord that resonates with the viewer’s innermost sentiments.
In this silent exchange between the observer and the observed, the photograph becomes a linguistic artifact. Its voice may whisper or shout, but the volume it speaks with is not one measured in decibels, but in affect..
As the image is revealed, developed, and shared, it begins a journey of interpretation and inspiration. Each viewer, drawn into the frame, becomes part of the unfolding narrative, extending the heartbeat of the captured moment to echo endlessly through the halls of human experience.
As I strolled through the quaint streets of the small town I’ve come to know as home, nestled in the Upstate of South Carolina, my gaze was drawn to a particular structure that stood as a testament to the past. It was an aging old bank that seemed to wear its history on its facade. The building was unmistakably a product of the 60’s architecture, characterized by its angular brick design. Such structures are commonplace in this part of town, each telling a story of the era they were erected in.
Despite its clear ongoing renovation, the exterior gave away the years of neglect. The reddish-brown bricks, once probably lively and inviting, were now dulled with a patina of decay—crumbling pointing between them told tales of the many years they had weathered. The signs of pollution had left their marks, etched into the surface in grime and soot. Acid rain had washed over the walls for decades, nibbling away at the solidity of the mortar, and with each passing year, the relentless tide of time had carved its impressions deeper into the once-pristine brickwork.
As I continued my walk, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with a hopeful curiosity for the building’s future. The old bank, once a bustling hub of commerce, now stood quietly amidst more modern establishments, a relic of a bygone era awaiting its rebirth. It served as a stark reminder of the impermanence of man’s creations, standing defiantly against the inescapable march of time, awaiting the day it would once again stand proud and renewed, its decayed exterior merely a chapter of its enduring story. It reminded me that in every end, there’s the whisper of a new beginning, and I was witnessing a small piece of this town’s continual evolution.
As I neared the old, weathered wall that had always been a part of my daily route, something unusual caught my eye. It was a solitary weed, displaying a resilience that was both unexpected and beautiful, blooming with a delicate flower in the midst of the unforgiving brickwork. Its struggle for life against the rigid urban canvas captivated me.
Quickly, I reached for my beloved Pentax Spotmatic F, a camera that had become an extension of my own being. Equipped with my beautiful Asahi Pentax SMC Takumar 50mm f/1.4 lens – a piece of glass famous for its swirly bokeh and the soulful images it produces – I framed the shot with a mindful respect for the weed’s tenacity. The viewfinder gave me connection between subject and artist as I adjusted the focus ring, the tactile sensation reminding me why I fell in love with photography in the first place.
With a click, the shutter closed for a fraction of a second, capturing not just an image but encapsulating a story of survival and beauty in adversity. I stood there for a moment, basking in the satisfaction that comes from knowing when you’ve caught a magic moment on film. This photograph, I sensed, would be a cherished addition to my personal collection, a reminder that even in the most unexpected places, there’s always something extraordinary to be discovered. I knew in that instant that I had something that I, at the very least, would love.
Even amongst the grot and grim of this old decrepit bank, new life emerges. God is everywhere and in everything we see. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. This weed withered away, but for a short time it bloomed. Jesus’ parable about the sower and the seed is one of my favorites and I thought of it instantly, as I took this photograph. God speaks, if we listen.
3 “Listen! Behold, a sower went out to sow. 4 And as he sowed, some seed fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured it. 5 Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and immediately it sprang up, since it had no depth of soil. 6 And zwhen the sun rose, it was scorched, and since it had no root, ait withered away. 7 Other seed fell among bthorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. 8 And other seeds fell into good soil and produced grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirtyfold and sixtyfold and ca hundredfold.” 9 And he said, d“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”
Mark 4; 3-9