Standing atop Mt Constitution, the highest point in the San Juan Islands, the wind whips around me tugging at my clothes. It’s a cold wind. I pull my hood tighter around my face then jam my hands depply into my pockets; my camera hangs on a strap from around my neck.

I face east waiting for sunset. The sun, setting behind me, will hopefully light the clouds clinging to the Cascade Range to a vibrancy of the last remnants of an autumn day. The clouds are stock-piled along the mountains – scoops of atmosphere reminiscent of scoops of ice cream piled together in a sundae cup. They move with the wind jostling for position along the horizon at times exposing peaks then in a moment covering them again.

My eyes wander over the scene to the islands lying in Rosario Strait between Orcas Island and Bellingham. They rest in the shade of Mt Constitution as the shadow from the mountain stretches across the strait. The water gradually becomes a dull silver in the growing darkness.

The slow descent of the sun has quickened as it heads towards the horizon to the west.

The clouds across the Cascades begin to shift in color from white to a hint of yellow.

I shift my weight on my foot, rocking back and forth trying to stay warm. I adjust my hood so it’s covers more of my head and neck. Keeping my eyes on the scene in front of me, I rub my hands together then jam them once again deep into my pockets. The clouds have parted slightly around Mt Baker and I become fixated on the photographic possibilities.

Snow had recently fallen on Mt Baker, coating her slopes white. A smile broadens my cheeks.

Color in the clouds shift further as the sun sinks below the horizon – from a soft yellow to a muted grey. Then almost magically they become pink puffs of cotton candy clinging to the slopes of Mt Baker.

This is my scene.

This was worth the wait in blowing autumn wind with a winter chill.