Shooting wheat (er, oats)
July 16, 2008
“I hope,” I said with an apologetic smile, “that I’m not hurting anything? It’s a beautiful field and I just couldn’t resist.”
I’d been driving past this wheatfield since early spring, on my way to work. I’d watched pale green sprouts shoot into sturdy green stalks, frowned as weeds invaded the waving tangles of grain and settled into a kind of contentment as, from the stalks up, the green began to fade into pale gold.
Every weekday I’d seen this field, vowed to photograph it, and never had. Even with that nifty new macro lens—just MADE for shooting grain—I’d left the camera at home.
It begged to be shot at sunrise, in Oregon’s glittery, golden morning light, but I’m about as far from a morning person as you can possibly get. And between GAS, nagging visions of new sculpture, and all sorts of ancillary glass outings, I was getting to bed at 2 or 3 AM. That left very little room for early morning photography.
On Monday, however, I’d noticed that my field’s slowly fading green had completely disappeared into gold. Harvest was coming soon, and if I didn’t get my shots I’d miss them entirely. So that night I determinedly set my alarm clock for the wee hours, groaned my way through shower and dressing next morning and arrived at my field in plenty of time. Sure enough, the light was glorious.
