This afternoon, I looked up and saw the last light falling on the tops of the trees behind our farm. The last light has so much symbolism for me. I think we spent much of our lives passing from darkness to light. We are born in the dark, and brought into the light, and we begin each day in the dark and end it in the light, passing back and forth. This is true of our lives, we pass back and forth between love and hope and meaning, and anger and fear and emptiness. Light follows dark, grief follows love, morning follows night, happiness follows despair. There is nothing we experience – no loss, no trauma, no disappointment – that does not bring light or meaning of some kind. That does not bring benefit in some way.

The photographer feels the light, at least this one does. The light is my focus, my point, the essence of my work. The last light is sacred to me, it is a metaphor, a symbol of our passing from one world into another. The night has night been kind to me, yet I am learning to love and appreciate it – its stillness, calm, sense of peace and rest.