Snow didn’t fall across Vancouver, it dumped like confetti on New Year’s Eve. Friends had warned us not to expect snow in the lower mainland, so when reality exceeded our expectations we bundled up like all good Midwest natives know how to do, and trekked into the heavy powder. Gripping my matte black umbrella high overhead to shield my exposed camera, I walked the paths of Stanley Park snapping photographs of Vancouver’s winter wonderland.
I turned down the sidewalk leading to seawall just beyond our ground floor townhouse tucked under the 40 story tower. The morning sun yawned under the blanket of fog. I knew my fingers would get cold resting on the camera dials (gloves would’ve been wise) but the ever-changing characters of fog and light are impatient subjects to capture. Each step toward the water drew my eyes further across the rippling waves until visions of sailboats and yachts formed out of the fog; sleeping figures off the shore.