My first stop as I walked through the Garden District was Lafayette Cemetery No. 1, the oldest of the city-run cemeteries and the setting for many scenes in vampire novels and the like. What struck me the most as I walked through it were these wall vaults that form part of the perimeter – we’re so used to treading through graveyards unimpeded that it’s striking to see tombs stacked up in a barrier. But perhaps that’s as it should be; I liked the metaphorical symbolism of this wall of the dead, and even the grassy no-man’s-land that precedes it. As I understand it, these vaults were occasionally used to store bodies until they could be moved to a more permanent resting place, or in some cases the remains were pushed to the back of the vault (falling into a receptacle below) in order for a new occupant to be interred. So it seems these vaults were often a transitory place even for the deceased, which befits their status as the boundary in this graveyard between the city of the living and the city of the dead.

An hour later I spotted about seven of them from a distance. They quickly sprinted off through the trees and it was amazing to see how nimbly and quietly they moved through the snow. It dawned on me that since I was trudging along in heavy boots I had little chance of catching up to them, let alone having them hold still long enough for a photo. However, after another half hour of hiking I somehow managed to stumble onto them once again, and was startled to find them grazing only a stone’s throw away. I froze; they froze; and I just kept thinking don’t mess this up as I slowly brought my camera to bear and started shooting.

It was only a few seconds before they all turned tail and bolted. All except for one. This last deer ignored the herd as they bounded away, and turned towards me to observe this new stranger in the forest. I snapped this photo as we stared at each other for a long moment, our mutual curiosity hanging between us.

As you can see from the beginning of this post by Trey Ratcliff, things often don’t work out despite perfect preparation. But as photographers, we can’t control the world, only where we are in it and when. We just have to show up, know how to use our gear, and hope for the best. It’s the process that’s important; probability will take care of the rest. Or so I like to think.

This was taken at the end of a photo walk around a few lakes in Reston. I remember walking into this scene and saying something to the effect of “Ohhhhh yeah… this’ll work.” The air was very still and the water was reflecting perfectly. A very peaceful and serene moment, and I was glad to be there for it with my camera.

(Click the photo to view it large on black)

All of life is ephemeral, but by photographing these moments we capture them and make them ours. I may never see this scene again, but I’ve made a photo of it, and now it can be preserved and shared with the rest of the world. Scott Bourne at Photofocus recently wrote a great post on the subject, and it’s definitely worth a read.