After weeks of planning, and three days of backpacking in the West Elk Mountains of Colorado, it finally happened. Change. A storm system slowly moved in, the wind started to blow, and the aspen leaves fell like golden rain all around me. Clouds skittered across the sky leaving their shadowed footprints on the landscape that was now below me. Light poured in from above, below, and around the clouds forming contrasts and edges.

I never knew what to expect as the drama slowly unraveled. Would the clouds dissipate, leaving the land exposed to the harsh light of the full sunshine? If so, all the colors would desaturate and become flattened, blown out by the unrelenting light. Or would the clouds build, forming a bleak gray landscape with no life? I sat on the edge and watched the slow play of light unfold across the land and sky.

I had never seen anything like this before. The entire valley floor was arrayed in jewels. Bright yellow, gold and orange aspen danced with lime and viridian greens. Deep evergreens dotted the scene here and there in contrast with the colorful aspen. Entire slopes were covered in the rusty reds of autumn scrub oak. Gorges, hillsides, plateaus and ridges were dressed in royalty.

A massive mountain, garbed in emperor blue, rose above it all. The clouds were dark above, but the colors persisted. Periodically, a break in the clouds would allow a shaft of light to spill down like a spotlight. Brilliance radiated from that single spot, then faded away as the clouds blocked the sun again.

I pointed my camera at the mountain, zoomed in a bit, then locked everything tight. For the next four hours, I babysat that exact composition. I stood, I sat, and I wandered about the edge, but my eyes were continually drawn back to the scene before me. I wanted to drink it all in. Each time a shaft of light came through, I pressed the shutter button.




As sunset neared, two things collided. Smoke from a small forest fire shifted into my scene, and a break in the clouds sent sunlight streaming from the heavens. They struck the mountain at the same time, and I ecstatically pressed the shutter as this smoke-born crepuscular ray descended to the jewels below.

What had been a sublime experience for the last few hours became transcendent. I was in awe as the drama continued to unfold until the sun finally set. This is what I came for: a massive mountain clothed in blue shadow, soaring above ridges of aspen lit up like fire from the slanting rays of the sun.

How much better is it to be on the edge of things? To be where the storm meets the calm, where the light meets the shadow. Our lives are made richer by changes. One thing flows into another creating a contrast of events, shadows of uncertainty, the light of hope and saturation of emotions.

If we were under gray skies every day, it would be easy to lose hope for the sunshine. But to be stuck under unabated blue skies with nary a breeze to mix things up; this too would grow tiresome.

So, when it looks like the clouds are building, pay attention. This contrast between good and bad is when you experience and learn the most.Just by knowing that a change from blue to gray occurred, you can have the confidence that the blue will return in due time. Without the edges of shadows there would be no way to find the light.