Anyone who has joined us on a workshop knows that if there is water, I am generally in it sooner or later. After all, I wasn’t given the moniker The Barefoot Contessa all those years ago for nothing!
True to form, I slipped out of my flip-flops and waded out, encouraging some of our group to join me and get a different perspective.
Where we were, the overhanging branches were a detriment, yet the scene was dramatic, or was going to be once the sun rose high enough to strike it.
Some of our group found places to get down really low — lying down even — to get a clear shot. I kept encouraging them to follow me into the river, but at first, there were no takers. OK, sure, that water was cool, but it was far from freezing.
I waded out carefully, avoiding the deep pockets, until …