At the end of my life, it won’t be all of the material things that will matter most.  It will be my photography that I will treasure.  However, I doubt it will be the well-composed, perfectly lighted, crisp photos I am always striving for that I will cherish.  It will be the casual snapshots of my life:  Christmas with the family, shots of us laughing with friends – arms slung over one another’s shoulders (something I will never take for granted again!), or an indescribable “something” that caught my attention in that moment in time.  A wildflower growing through the cracks in a bombed-out bunker near Normandy Beach.  Our toes mushing in the black sand beach of the Big Island of Hawaii.  The old truck by the side of the road, clasped in the hand of overgrown foliage. A heart-shaped leaf on the ground.  An abandoned barn decomposing in a lush meadow.

The dictionary gives these definitions of snapshot: “1. An informal photograph, especially one taken quickly by a handheld camera.” “2.  An impression or view of something brief or transitory a snapshot of life back then.”

Taken quickly.  Before the moment is gone.  And then you have it, although in one dimensional form.  Tucked into my pocket, mine to keep.

Please enjoy this week’s snapshots from the road.