Brief Moment

Then consider the briefest moments in a continuum. If even the briefest of moments did not have a beginning, middle, and end, it could not join with others.
-Dalai Lama

     Moments seem to be making up my life recently.  A rare glimpse of Farland as I drive down the highway, an image caught out of the corner of my eye of turkey vultures sitting on a fence high on a hill, their wings spread to the morning sun drying their feathers, chance encounters on the road while working seeing someone I haven't seen in some time, being in the right place at the right time and scoring some wonderful pasta and meatballs from my favorite restaurant and so on.  These moments seem to be making up my days and nights.
     While working the other day and training another rookie, we were in the area known as McLain Flats as it's a rare flat expanse here in the valley.  A rare truly working ranch is there where they grow hay that is "certified" as it's weed free.  Our weather has turned to more Colorado-like as of late with crystal clear mornings turning to growing clouds as the day warms up, then showers and thunderstorms in the late afternoon and early evening.
     I had spotted these freshly cut and baled rolls of hay out on Moore's ranch and loved the way they looked.  For all the world the appeared to be some giant's Shredded Wheat cereal he or she had flung from the bowl and scattered them out in the field. 

      But, with the gloomy storm clouds coming in there was no light to take a photograph that would show off this contrast in shapes and textures, so I just enjoyed the view as my rookie and I patrolled the roadway. 

     Then, no sooner had my wish left my mind than the tiniest of holes appeared in the clouds off to the west as the sun set!  A circle of sunshine no bigger than this field bathed everything in its light.  I could see the edge of the sunshine rapidly approaching, so it was slam the patrol car into Park, find my camera and leap out and over the fence.  Looking through the viewfinder I couldn't see all I wanted to see of the tableau. 
      The circle of sunlight was fast disappearing to my right. 
     I panned the camera back and forth, up and down but I wasn't seeing what I wanted.  Finally, I realized that there was going to be time for just a couple of shots.  I aimed at the sky with the hayfield just visible at the bottom of the frame and, "click", one shot taken.  Then I aimed at the field with sky barely visible and took the second shot.  I panned to my left and then the giant that had thrown their cereal out just turned off the light.  Gone.  Dark, moody and altogether gray again.  Two photos taken and the moment was gone.  I would later trust my computer and a steady hand to "glue" the two images into one.
     I finally had a moment to appreciate the wonderful story told by Ansel Adams' daughter about his famous photograph, Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico.
     She recalled that they were all piled in the old car driving along at sunset when suddenly her father screeched to a stop and started yelling at them all to get the camera out, get the tripod, get some film!  The moon was just rising over the hills behind an old adobe church and the setting sun was just kissing the headstones in the cemetery lighting them up with the last rays.  Adams finally got set up, composed, set the aperture, shutter speed and took exactly one shot.  The light was then gone.  The moment past.
      He later recalled being tempted to return to the church at the same time to try to recapture that moment, but decided against it. 
     He worked the image in his darkroom where it was said that it was like a choreographed dance as he developed his images.  Burning here, dodging there, darkening this with that filter, brightening this with the other filter.  He would often have several filters in one hand, a black piece of cardboard in the other as he would coax the image out of the photo paper.
     And so, another moment in the myriad of moments that make up one's day, one's year, one's life.  I am slowly learning to appreciate such moments.  I have to slam the car to a stop, leap out uncaring what I look like, spin 360 degrees with arms outspread trying to take it all in at once as it is so fleeting.
     Yes, time speeds up as we get older, get used to it.  Sunsets happen every day, but for how many days?