There is always the obvious to photograph. Fishing boats in harbors, lighthouses standing tall, sunsets and sunrises galore, Motif No. 1 in Rockport, MA … I could go on. There is nothing wrong with photographing all these things, but the trick is to make it yours, to make it different. Or, to …

As we got closer to Telluride, I was struck by the odd color of the snow. It was not white, and I asked about it. My daughter explained that western Colorado had been very dry, and the winds had gathered up the red dirt and dusted it all over the snow, giving it a sepia cast. It was fascinating.

Hayden is a very sociable little person, so when it was his bedtime, his mother suggested that with all of us in one room, Granny was a distraction, and this would be an excellent time for her to leave and go out photographing for an hour or so.

And so I did. One of the lesser roads beckoned, and I turned left and …

I know it’s not new, but I thought that occasionally, I would present a single shot — the kind where I only did one “frame” — and find out what you like about it … or not.

The first one is from Georgia. We were there on a workshop, Savannah & Her Lowcountry. In one of the famous cemeteries, Arnie and I had given the participants assignments based on their needs. After checking in with those AI could find — you’d be amazed at how quickly people can disappear in a graveyard — I wandered down to the water, as I am wont to do.

The previous year, I had found a shot I really liked, and with the fog on the river, I thought the chances were good that I might find another.

I did. In fact, I found a couple. As many of you know, I grew up sailing. It’s in my blood, so I perk up whenever I see a sailboat.

I was enjoying the gentle light on the river, the fog drifting in and out and giving an ethereal calm to the scene. The soft thrum of an engine announced itself, soon followed by this sailboat, trailing behind it the quiet ruffle of a wake.

It was too much to hope that the boat would go where