It’s 1 hour and 45 minutes before sunrise and my alarm sounds. I get out of bed and quietly walk to the kitchen to start the morning coffee. I return to my room to find my already laid out hiking clothes from the night before. I quickly change, grab my camera gear, fill my water bottle and finish making my coffee. I softly walk out the side door of the house and get to the car. I put my gear in the trunk, place the coffee in the cup holder, start the car, begin a podcast, and drive off to my desired location.

After a 22 minute drive, I arrive at arguably my most visited local photo location. I park at my favorite trailhead, grab my gear from the trunk, and head down the same trail I have hiked more times than I can count. I wander the woods in search of wildlife, intimate scenes, and inner peace. After about 3 to 4 hours I return to my car feeling relaxed and re-energized. I put my gear back in the trunk, resume the podcast and begin my drive back home.

I have repeated this photographic routine over and over again. So many countless weekend morning has been spent doing this same thing. Some mornings are better than others, sometimes I take a great photo or two, and sometimes I don’t even take my camera out of the bag. Whether I’m successful photographically or not has become less and less important over time. These mornings are my time to escape into nature and forget about the world for a little bit. I’ll be honest I have begun to take these mornings for granted. They became a part of my weekly routine like anything else. It isn’t until I’m unable to get out into nature do I remember how valuable those mornings are and how appreciative I should be of them.

As I write this the world is in lockdown. Most people are stuck in their houses unable to leave unless for necessities. Personally, I have only left the house a hand full of times in the last two weeks and it is starting to weigh on me. Every time I step out that front door and hear a bird sign or see a tree’s branches sway in the wind I’m reminded of what I’m missing by not being in nature. Those routine mornings out with my camera almost always come to mind, I simply wish I could go back to one of those mornings. It’s funny how quickly you will miss something you take for granted once it’s gone.

Although you may be thinking, isn’t getting out in nature as good as social distancing can get? Well, it usually is, but it seems more than ever, during this current situation more people are hitting the hiking trails and part of me doesn’t want to become a part of the problem. I feel I should give this thing some time before I get back out there with the camera, especially since the county I live in is one of the most impacted in the entire country.

During this time stuck indoors, I plan on taking time to work on projects I normally don’t have time to work on. Read and re-read photography books I have picked up over the years, work on my post-processing skills and write a few extra blog posts. I want to turn this unfortunate situation into a positive by taking what seems to be a month of being stuck indoors to improve my photography in other ways I normally don’t have the time to do.

As for the photo for this month, it’s a simple photo of a Chickadee taken on one of my earlier described routine mornings out with the camera. It was taken on my last morning out hiking the woods of my favorite local location before this lockdown. How I wish I could go back to that peaceful morning in the woods. How I wish I never took those mornings for granted. How I wish I would’ve known that morning would be my last morning out in nature for a long time. I want this situation to teach me to become more appreciative of the small things, the things in my life that I rely on being there without question. So that the next time I’m able to walk the woods with my camera I’m able to be more present, more grateful, and more appreciative that I’m able to experience those moments in nature. I want those emotions to serve my actions throughout my entire life, not just when I’m out with the camera.