It wasn’t an entire summer, it was one day. One day at my favorite place, one day with a great model, just one more day of Summer Seventeen. Most of winter I am thinking of being there, with a camera and a human who is as eager to be there as I am. The only worry is those boaters who linger about, not really fishing, and those pesky mosquito’s. The weather is always perfect, even if it rains. It’s perfect when it’s a drab thick overcast. It’s perfect during golden hour, when there are high thin clouds that reflect red after the sun is beneath the horizon. It’s extra special when there is a thunderstorm miles away. Miles away, not overhead, but they never are overhead for long…