File:Lightning over the Atlantic - Flickr - aparlette.jpg

After the storm swept through and passed over Rehoboth Beach, my son and I made our way out past the bridge and onto the open beach, where the sky still pulsed with energy. Facing northeast over the Atlantic, the scene was vast and electric. Darkness was settling in, but every few moments, the sky would crack open with light. Sometimes it was distant and faint. Other times, like this, it felt close and immediate. A single bolt struck down over the horizon, its reflection stretching across the water, framed by the dark curtain of clouds and the low glow of twilight.

We had both cameras set up on tripods and were running a mix of exposures, from quick snaps to longer thirty-second shots. This one was a two-second shutter that just happened to catch one of the strongest flashes of the night. As soon as the lightning hit, we both leaned into the screens, sharing that little burst of excitement, guessing whether it had landed in frame. There was a rhythm to it all. Shooting, checking, laughing, adjusting. But just as much as the photography, it was a moment for the two of us to take in the scene together. Standing there on the beach, watching nature unfold in its own time, was something I won’t forget.