Photo Essay Series: Lititz Lights and The Quiet Beauty of Snow

Last week we had a real snow storm. I say “real” snow storm because last year’s Winter was a bit less “Winter Wonderland”, and more “Brown Doldrums”. For the longest time I’d wanted to utilize the snow in a unique way. Snow on the ground makes for some picturesque photos, sure. And falling snow can add a lot of character and whimsical mood to a photo, giving it that extra little element that really adds some life or coziness. And yes, those are definitely elements I wanted to utilize. However, capturing the snow at night requires a bit more than during the day. So, I wanted to utilize falling snow, fallen snow, and one more element - artificial light.

I set off on my four mile walk around Lititz around 4:15 am, starting off on a walking trail between my apartment and the library. I often walk this path, but everything is different with this much snow on the ground. My first subject though, was a door into a brick building. The door had a small window with light beaming out of it. I couldn’t resist.

Now onto the Butterfly Trail, with the distinct and noticeable absence of butterflies. First, I captured a small footbridge. After that, a lonely bench. Both illuminated by a single street lamp.

The silence here was incredible. I heard the flakes fall lightly to the ground and the leaves blowing in the wind as it rumbled underneath all the other sounds. I lingered here for awhile, becoming friends with the now fading footprints through the snow.

My next stop was Main Street, but I’d take my time getting there. I captured a few more street lights on the way there and the snow continued falling, although the wind had died down. It was now approaching 6am as I made a left turn and started walking down Main Street, with the first scene that captured my eye being a beautiful old brick house.

After that I stopped to look down the snow-covered street and sidewalks. Downtown was busy for just before 6am. There were lots of people shoveling and using snow blowers. Though plowed, the streets seemed almost lawless somehow. Perhaps it was the lack of visible lines or that I could simply stand in the street for long periods of time because of how little traffic there was. I meandered towards the fountain at the end of Main and captured some peaceful, quiet sights along the way.

Small shops on Main, like Sturgis Pretzel took on an identity straight out of postcard. I felt as if Lititz had been transformed into a living snow globe.

As I continued capturing photos on my way to Lititz Springs Park, the hearty hum of snow blowers and road plows pushed their way through the silent blanket of snow. Lights were everywhere. Car headlights, porch lights, street lamps, traffic lights or green and yellow and red. Scattered among storefronts were even some remnants of Christmas lights. And under all this was a cold, soft, and unapologetically seasonal blue hue.

The thing about light is that you never really notice it during the day. But at night, each individual light seems like its own little star, illuminating it’s own little world. All the while the ever-present cold blue glow of the night fills in every shadow with a chilling, yet reassuring tone. Sometimes you don’t see this tone. It might be too bright to see it at first. But if you look hard enough - into the little crevices between snow mounds or on the walls of unlit alleys, or at dark places under broken street lights, you’ll see that it’s always there. To me, that’s weirdly reassuring.

Almost to Lititz Springs Park. The sun will be rising soon, and I have about a mile hike back to my apartment. First up though, the lights of the park await.

It doesn’t always take a lot of light to bring out detail in an image. And sometimes the absence of light and contrast is just as important. In the end, color is just window dressing to the main attraction - the light. Whether it’s a snow covered tree catching the soft glow of a light out of frame or the bright glow emanating from a town clock overpowering the brightening morning sky, you will always notice more then you would first realize. Each little world that each light source illuminates also opens that world up to us. Our perspectives though allow us to observe all of these little worlds on a grand scale. These little suns give us the sharp contrast to see flakes falling from the sky. The subtle curves and patterns in freshly fallen snow. Cold shadows, warm highlights, and the ability to make color matter. Once you start taking away the brightest lights, the more you notice how important the dimmer ones actually are, and the role they play.

I enjoyed my walk pre-dawn walk through Lititz. I had fun exploring new ways of seeing the town I call home. And I learned a bit more about how changing your perception on a subject matter allows you to use that change to create something new from something that is usually so familiar. It helped ignite my creativity.