I had the whole morning mapped out before I even left the house — the spot, the angle, the exact minute the sun would clear the horizon. Then a tree got in the way of my plan. Here’s what happened when I finally stopped fighting it.
Something I’ve always believed — and said out loud more times than I can count — is this: Shoot what you love. People, places, still life. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it matters to you.
The night before I took this photograph, I had a plan. I had checked my photo apps, studied the sunrise angle, picked the perfect spot at Rocky Point. Gear was packed, alarm set, mind focused. I was ready to make the photo I had envisioned.
As I walked the path toward the old pier, I rounded a corner and stopped in my tracks.
That tree.
It wasn’t part of the plan, but it was stunning. I said out loud, “Wow. That tree is gorgeous.” And then, like a good little planner, I marched on, sticking to the vision I had so carefully crafted.
I set up, dialed in my composition, made a few test shots. Everything was going fine — but I kept glancing over my shoulder at that tree.
By the third glance, I gave in. Packed up, walked back down the path, and returned to that spot where I’d first stopped.
This was the place. This felt right.
Every photograph I’ve ever truly loved has had that moment — that gut feeling when I press the shutter and I just know. I can’t explain it, but I trust it now more than I trust any plan.
This photo remains one of my favorites. Not just because of how it looks — but because of what it taught me.
The heart knows. Listen to it.
Shoot what you love.
I still think about that morning every time I catch myself sticking too hard to a plan. Some of my favorite images from the last few years happened because I let a plan go and followed what actually caught my eye. That tree taught me to trust the pull before I second-guess it.
For the curious: Canon 7D, 70–200mm f/2.8, f/8 at 10 seconds, ISO 100 — slow enough to soften the water and hold onto that calm, early-morning feel.
This one hangs in my house for a reason — it’s proof that the best moments aren’t always the ones you go looking for. If a photograph like that means something to you too, the quiet, unplanned kind of morning, it’s available as a print for wherever your eyes could use that same reminder.