The Story: Sunflowers Under a Crescent Moon
In New England, there are a handful of events every landscape photographer circles in bright red ink — and the Sunflower Festival at Buttonwood Farm is one of them.
Since 2004, this family-run farm in Griswold, Connecticut has hosted Sunflowers for Wishes, a breathtaking fundraiser for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Just 45 minutes from home, I try to make the pilgrimage at least a few times each year during the weeklong event. And let me tell you — we’re not talking about a quaint patch of blooms in someone’s backyard.
We’re talking acres of sunflowers. Ten to fourteen acres, stretching like a golden ocean beneath the summer sky.
It’s an incredible sight. The kind of scene that doesn’t just ask to be photographed — it insists.
And on this particular evening, I stayed long enough to witness something few others did: a sunflower field under a crescent moon, glowing softly in the blue hour after the crowds disappeared.
The Lesson: Patience
At sunset, we were elbow to elbow — tripod to tripod — lined up along that old fieldstone wall.
Hundreds of photographers. All chasing the same golden light as it spilled across the sunflower field. And honestly? I don’t blame them. Golden hour is dramatic. It’s loud in the best way. It demands attention.
But I’ve learned something over the years about landscape photography — especially at popular locations.
The show doesn’t end when the sun drops below the horizon.
Ten minutes after the sun dipped out of sight, it was like someone pulled a fire alarm. Tripods collapsed. Bags zipped. Car doors slammed in the distance. Within minutes, the field was empty.
Completely empty.
And I hadn’t moved an inch.
I just needed to be patient — and give them time to get out of my way.
Because blue hour is different. Softer. Quieter. The light evens out. The sky deepens. The sunflower field that felt chaotic moments earlier suddenly breathes.
Patience in landscape photography isn’t passive. It’s intentional. It’s choosing to stay when everyone else leaves. It’s trusting that something quieter — and sometimes more meaningful — is about to unfold.
That night, patience gave me a sunflowers under a crescent moon.
And that’s when my favorite time of day began.
Blue Hour Magic
There’s something magical about blue hour — that quiet stretch of time after sunset and before true darkness settles in. The light softens, colors deepen, and the whole world seems to exhale. It’s peaceful. Subtle. Saturated in emotion rather than flash. It’s when the scene stops performing and just… exists.
That’s when I made this photograph.
I wandered the fields under the rising moon, camera still in hand, letting the soft lunar glow wash over everything. The crowds were gone. The flowers were still. The world was hushed — and it was perfect.
Reflections on the Craft
I’ve photographed these fields many times: insects flitting from bloom to bloom for macro shots, individual sunflowers standing tall and proud, sweeping landscapes bursting with light and color.
But it’s the quiet ones like this — made after the crowds leave and the sky begins to whisper — that mean the most to me.
Lesson: Wait. Don’t rush the moment. Stay after the sun sets. Let the world empty out. Give the magic a chance to find you. Sometimes, the best light comes after the show is over.
Technical Details
- Camera / Lens: Canon 7D with 70-200 f/2.8
- Settings:
- Aperture: f/8.0
- Shutter Speed:10 seconds
- ISO: 100
- Light: Blue hour, soft lunar glow
- Approach: It was suddenly incredibly quiet, and it was me and a million flowers watching the show in the sky. I wanted to carry the feeling of peace, and a little bit of awe
- Tip: Walk the scene slowly. Move with intention. Look for subtle highlights that reveal themselves when the crowd is gone.
Practice Patience Yourself
You don’t need a sunflower field to practice patience in photography. Try this:
- Arrive at a location early, but stay a few minutes after everyone leaves
- Put your camera down for a moment
- Watch how the light and mood shift once the scene is empty
- Capture the subtle details you might have missed
Often, the photograph you didn’t expect is the one you’ll remember.
Step Further Into the Series
This photograph is available as a fine art print in the Sunflowers collection. If this image resonates with you, explore other photographs in the Sunflowers series or discover the Landscape gallery to see more moments captured with patience and quiet intention.
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