There’s this beautiful wheat field in the neighborhood where I spent my childhood.

It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, and when they light hits it just right, it’s majestically golden.

Around 6:15 Saturday evening, I drove by that field on the way to my parent’s house. I looked out the window to my right and saw it.

Magic light. 

There’s really no other way to explain it. It’s the time of day when the sun is just on the verge of setting below the horizon. The orange light pours through the limbs of the surrounding trees, and the result is breathtaking. Pure joy in photographic light’s best form.

I jumped out of the car, raced up the stairs, and squealed to my sister, “Get dressed! The field is perfect and we don’t have much time!”

Without question, she ran upstairs and threw herself together in twenty minutes (a feat for my sister, I assure you).

As we turned out of the driveway, Jen whispered softly to me, “I see sunflare in our future.”

Oh, you know me so well, Sister. 

And so, we chased light like we chase dreams…relentlessly. They’re made of the same stuff, really. A little bit of magic, a little bit of faith, and a whole lot of love.