I saw a picture this morning.

A herd of black faced sheep crested the top of small hill and headed down the slope in front of me.  The field was planted with some sort of forage crop, unusually green, for the season has turned to fall.  The ground beneath was moist from a recent rain and the soil dark.   It was morning, the sun wasn't hadn’t yet lifted high into the sky.  The light came from behind me and towards the hill, but at an angle.  The light was clean and crisp, everything was aglow.  The sheep cast shadows angled sharply off to their side.  Behind them, above the horizon, a bank of clouds, reminiscent of those that roll in from in from the Pacific Ocean onto the California coast, sat low in the sky, monotone but with a million shades rendered in its form.  Above the clouds a deep blue of a clear sky.  It was a perfect image.  I pondered how best to capture in in my head.

 Unfortunately, I can’t show it to you.  I was driving at 55 miles an hour, on a two lane state highway with not enough edge to safely park on for casual purposes.  My camera?  Back home in the bag.  This was an errand, nothing more. 

 I didn’t make this picture, but I saw it.  Seeing the images that surround us on a daily and constant basis is half the challenge of being a photographer.  The musician practices without an audience, so that when there is an audience she will be at her best.  The habit and discipline of composing all the time so that seeing becomes a subconscious process, leads to new levels of creative perception when we are deliberately trying to make pictures.  I didn’t make this picture today, but a little part of it will be in an image I will make someday, because I first saw it today.