. . . the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
-- T. S. Eliot, "East Coker, " Four Quartets
Saturday, March 15, began with a rarely-seen phenomenon in these parts: fog.
But it burned off pretty quickly, leaving a diadem of clouds on the crest of the Sandia Mountains. (This is literally the view out our back door.)
The clouds came and went all day, and by mid-afternoon the mountain had disappeared in a thick blanket of cloud:
Two hours later, the clouds lifted to a heavy overcast, leaving the mountain with a new coating of snow:
And then, just before sunset, I looked again. There was a patch of sunlight . . .
A gap had opened in the west between the horizon and the overcast ceiling . . .
and I knew that as the sun set, that patch of sunlight would move eastward toward the mountain. So out the door I went, camera in hand, across the road and up a small hill about 100 yards from our house.
Along the way, a neighbor's fence caught the sun (and my eye) . . .
And that window of sunlight kept moving toward the mountain . . .
As the sunlight moved up the face of the mountain, the wind picked up from the north (left to right in these images), and began to blow the clouds that had settled on the crest.
Then the whole front ridge of the mountain was illuminated, and I took the shot. (Six shots, actually: this is a panorama of six vertical images stitched together in Photoshop.)
The sun set and the earth's shadow moved up, leaving only the top of the mountain lit . . .
And then it was over . . .
Sometimes you just have to wait for it . . .
You can see these images in a larger format at my photography website, Todos Juntos Photography, by clicking here.