Zhangren Peak, Chanfang Temple Pagoda, was first built in the Liao Dynasty. On the afternoon of September 7th, the day of the Blood Moon shooting, the sun set at the top of the tower, and that stunning scene was finally captured by me on camera. In order to achieve the perfect composition of the 'Sun Hanging Liao Tower', I have taken seven or eight shots before and after. Each time was a precise questioning of light, shadow, and timing, which also allowed me to take a solid step on the path of scientific photography.
In the three years I've been at home, this morning glow has only appeared twice, and this is the second time
It was another sunny weekend, and I didn't want to waste this opportunity to shoot stars. I came to the big rock of Dianding Mountain again. Although I had been here countless times, I actually wanted to change my seat. However, I haven't found a quieter environment nearby, so I had to come again.
In the past three years, I can't even remember the number of times I came to this seat at Wenying Lake. Every time, I happily left and returned disappointed because I never encountered a beautiful sunset. However, this time, I finally managed to secure it.
Rain finally stopped at the silhouette of the distant mountain. Outside the car window, the gray blue cloud fluff was quietly pushed away by a ray of sky light, like someone pulling open half a brocade in the sky. This is my second encounter with the Water God Hall, a 150 kilometer drive and two and a half hours of anticipation, all hidden in the faint sound of wheels rolling over damp roads.
The outline of the White Marble stone forest is gradually clear in the dusk, and the corners of the rock stratum are suffused with cold white light, like a group of silent giants guarding the secret of the night. The starry sky photography planned as early as last year was in this stone forest. I once set the time for tonight's galaxy to rise on my calendar, but ultimately lost to the warm blanket at the bedside and my habit of procrastination.
The summer solstice wind carries the fragrance of wheat, gently brushing over the meadow of Dianding Mountain, and I once again stand on this familiar ridge. The sky is washed indigo, with large clouds like flocks of sheep spreading across the sky. Even the wind carries a transparent warmth, carrying the rustling sound of the oat fields in the distance.
There are many beautiful things in the world, but there are not many that truly belong to oneself. In this complex world, I often ponder, what exactly is eternity? Is it the pavilion barrier of the Han Dynasty with a history of more than 2000 years, or the comet Atlas of Zijin Mountain seen for more than 60000 years, or the eternal star? And in the passage of time, what kind of attitude should I take to face this endless time after more than thirty years?
On the grassland, two big trees hold hands, with their heads resting on their heads, standing quietly. They seem like lovers, lost in the afterglow of the setting sun, speaking silent vows. The sunlight shone on their branches and leaves, creating a soft halo that was breathtakingly beautiful. I stood not far away, silently gazing at them, and an inexplicable emotion surged in my heart.