For days I wanted to go out and photograph the changing winds of spring. We had just arrived to our new stomping grounds in Virginia and those gorgeous pops of pink flowers sprinkling the trees beckoned to me. So after getting our place in check, we agreed to venture out, Capt. Awesome and me, camera in hand, props, the whole nine yards…we were ready. One step off the train and we were immediately immersed in a sea of people. Police officers directed foot traffic as, what appeared to be, millions of tourists waddled out of the station and onto the streets of the DC Mall.

Yes, we had arrived. Right. Smack. Dab. In the Middle of the Cherry Blossom Festival.

Pure insanity.

Oh, it was beautiful. Those pink powder puffs packed every possible point of view. But so did the people. Feeling deflated, I chalked it all up to bad timing and swore I would come back on a weekday when the crowds were at a minimum.

The very next day I set out again. Camera, tripod, props. It’s a Monday…a work day and a school day.

Oh, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Driving this time, provided even more avenues for frustration with long lines of traffic and no place to park.

Pedestrians EVERYWHERE! Why aren’t you kids in school?!?!

At this point, feeling extremely defeated and annoyed, having the wind sucked out of my creative sails, not once but twice(!), I decided to just go home.

Sometimes there’s an invisible force that places, what I would consider, massive restrictions on one’s ability to push forward. To finish what you started. It’s disguised as many things…in this case, a seasonal festival. Or perhaps, people telling you it is impossible and can’t be done. It’s mother nature deciding to pour buckets of rain on your sunny day. Other times it’s the landscapers that happen to mow down the field of wild flowers and dandelions the day before you make plans to go out and photograph them. (This happened to me.) And sadly often, it’s your own psyche parading around in your head a string of what seem like perfectly legitimate reasons why your efforts are futile.

Then I tell myself – we would never get anywhere if we listened and let a single one of these factors keep us from doing what we love.

big sigh

In an effort to regain some of that control and to not feel like I wasted a day, I planted myself outside the front door. New props in hand. The wind blew strong and hard in repeated gusts, mimicking that invisible hand attempting to stop me in my tracks.

I leaned into it singing, “Come on baby, I can drink you down.”