Forecasters have been predicting it for months, but last weekend it happened. 2018 has been the wettest year in the Washington DC metro area since 1889, when recordings were first made – over 61 inches and we’re not done yet.
Whole weeks have passed without sun, as if the sky was taking a prolonged tantrum, and like a toddler needed to catch a breath before launching into a fresh bout of hysterical crying. You knew what was coming, and all you could do was brace yourself and wait. This hasn’t been gentle rain, but sustained, flood-level, torrential downpours.
I know gray on gray tones for days on end are normal some places, but they aren’t here, and they aren’t for me. Noticing the light – the way it intensifies, clarifies, and alters is often my impetus to pick up a camera. My muse was on extended hiatus this year, and I yielded to the gloom her absence created rather than fight against it.
But when the she did grace us, on those few precious days that were brilliant, each ray was a revelation. It may seem as though Brutalist architecture was my subject in this set of images, but the concrete, glass and mirrors were just the tools I had at hand with which to appreciate and the honor the light.
Wishing all of you light and warmth in these closing days of 2018, and then another generous portion to carry you into and through the new year.
Keep your eyes wide open,