Night Watch

There’s a quiet beauty in the way the day slips into night here in Texas. It’s an unassuming transformation—no fanfare, no rush. Just a slow dip of the sun, painting the horizon in hues that only seem to exist for a fleeting moment. A moment that, if you blink, you might miss.

This evening, as the sky caught fire, I found myself chasing the light along the backroads. The silhouette of a lone bovine stood motionless against the burnt-orange glow, framed by the lines of a barbed-wire fence and the delicate shapes of distant trees. The air was still, and for a brief spell, it was as if time itself took a breath. These moments, simple and unrefined, are what make Texas landscapes worth capturing.

A sunset like this isn’t just a show—it’s a reminder. It whispers of the raw, untamed nature that still holds its ground against the progress of cities and highways. Out here, the land stretches wide, and the skies feel endless. There’s a hum of insects, a rustle of wind, and the lingering scent of dry earth that, somehow, fills you with a sense of something larger than yourself.

When you see the dark shape of that horned beast standing guard against the twilight, you realize these are more than just animals—they’re icons of resilience, standing as sentinels of an old Texas, a Texas where the spirit of independence still roams.

This is why I shoot. To capture more than just the color and light but the soul of the places and moments that often go unnoticed. I want each image to hold that pause. That stillness. That unspoken story.

So next time the sun dips low and the horizon begins to burn, stop for a moment. Listen to the silence, feel the stillness, and remember: it’s not just a sunset—it’s a part of the land’s story, and maybe a part of yours too.

— CAM