For the past seven days, I soaked up all the summer I could in southern Florida.
I showed up hungry for sunlight, searing heat, green. And I have to say, Florida delivered: As the car shot toward the Keys on long white bridges spanning the water, the Sunshine State rolled itself out like a green-and-blue carpet, sparkling and shamelessly beautiful.
Gulls knifed through blue air.
Sunsets melted to shades of mango and grapefruit sorbet.
Water lapped crystal-blue along the shoreline.
Meanwhile, I kept aiming my camera at that loveliness, trying and trying to capture it. And over and over again, I failed.
Gradually, I began to understand that it was all just too much for my eyes, my sensitive soul — too much beauty, too much color, too much light. I wandered around dazed and stunned, caught in sensory overload.
So halfway through the trip, I shut my eyes and opened them again. And I began to see Florida in quiet monochrome … in careful, small angles.
That was the first time I felt I could see it truthfully.
Here are a few of my favorite shots. I hope they stand as proof that small, quiet things can be just as stunning as crashing surf or a tropical sunset, if you know how to look:
Rope on the Dock – Ramrod Key
Old Church in High Contrast – Key West
Lily Pads – Hemingway House, Key West
Jumbled Boats – Key West
Still Lonely on the Strip – Key West
Pond – Hemingway House, Key West
Vanishing Point – Miramar
Pathway and Palms – Miramar
Restoration in Progress – Key West
Mirror on a Tree – Hemingway House, Key West