On Deck @ La Paloma Observatory: September 2021
On Deck @ La Paloma Observatory: Looking Up to Heal
There is a distinct shift that happens when the sun goes down and the camera stays on the tripod. If daytime photography is about chasing the fast, kinetic energy of life, nighttime photography is a lesson in patience, stillness, and perspective.
Lately, my deck has transformed into my own personal "La Paloma Observatory." When the weight of missing my sister catches up to me, stepping out into the dark with a wide-angle lens has become my quiet sanctuary. Looking at the vastness of the night sky doesn't erase the grief, but it gives it a peaceful space to sit.
Tuning into the Cosmic Clock
Astrophotography forces you to slow down. You can't rush the night sky; you just have to wait, watch, and let the light pool into the sensor. Tracking the sky through September brought some incredible rewards:
Chasing the Moon: Documenting its phases felt like watching a giant clock handle turn. From the sharp, cratered edge of a bright crescent, to a deep copper-red moon hanging low in the dark, and finally, a massive full moon rising behind the palm trees.
A Shot in a Million: In a split second of luck, catching a bird perfectly silhouetted right against the face of the full moon. A quiet reminder that beautiful, unexpected connections happen when you just keep the lens open.
Reaching for Jupiter: Pointing the lens far past our atmosphere to lock onto Jupiter, watching the faint lines of its planetary bands resolve out of the darkness.
The Comfort of the Rokinon 14mm
For the wide expanses, pulling out the Rokinon 14mm F/2.8 allowed me to capture how the earth interacts with space. Setting up long exposures to capture the slow, rhythmic pull of star trails or the quick blink of a satellite cutting through the dark over the roofline makes the world feel incredibly still.
Up on the deck, under a blanket of stars or waiting for the moon to clear the horizon, I often think about how much my sister would have loved this view. Practicing this together, talking through lens settings in the cool night air, would have been magic. For now, every frame of the cosmos feels like a quiet message sent up to the dark—a way to keep busy, keep looking up, and keep her memory close.
Observatory Note: Next time the world feels too loud or too heavy, look up. You don't need a massive telescope to appreciate the cosmic show; just a deck, a tripod, a little patience, and a willingness to find beauty in the dark.




















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