I headed into the Pisgah National Forest early one morning with my macro lens and a simple idea in mind. I wanted to photograph God’s Artistry from a different perspective.
It is easy to stand beneath a towering mountain, watch the sun break across the Blue Ridge, or hear a waterfall crashing through the forest and recognize the hand of God. Those places almost demand our attention. But I have always believed His greatest works are not measured by their size.
So that morning, instead of looking toward the mountains, I began looking down.
The forest was still wet from the morning moisture. Tiny droplets clung to stems, leaves, and flowers, catching the light like pieces of glass. Through the macro lens, a world most people would walk right past suddenly became enormous.
Then I found this flower.
Its fiery orange petals hung beneath the greenery while perfectly formed droplets of water surrounded it. Some rested along the stems, others seemed almost suspended in the darkness. I positioned the camera, focused on those tiny details, and pressed the shutter.
For just a moment, the rest of the forest disappeared.
That is one of the gifts photography has given me. It reminds me to slow down and look closer. God’s Artistry is certainly written across mountains, waterfalls, sunsets, and endless forests, but it is also found in a single flower and a drop of water no larger than a tear.
Sometimes the most extraordinary evidence of creation is hiding inside the smallest things.
We simply have to get close enough to see it.
