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Limited Edition run of 50.

Available in two formats:

1. Matted and signed, 300.00 USD plus 15.00 USD Shipping and handling.

2. Matted, signed, and framed, 500.00 USD plus 25.00 USD shipping and handling.

Shipping prices for Continental US only, please contact for appropriate shipping charges outside the US.

Simmerman Photography is currently taking orders for this Limited Edition print.

One of the things that attracted me to this humble dwelling in the middle of nowhere was the fact it had a small lake nearby that I could, literally, toss a rock into from my yard if I so desired. I have to admit, I didn't see a lot of things coming when I bought this place nearly ten years ago and what seemed like a great idea during the summer I took ownership soon seemed like the worst idea I've ever had as winter made it's way to the area.
That first winter was a real eye-opener. Most of my life I've lived in small towns or on the outskirts of decent sized cities but it had been a while since I found myself deep in the heart of a lake effect snow dumping ground and the amount of snow that first winter was disheartening, to say the least. I had purchased a snow blower that fall and had every intention of arriving home from work, motoring up the angled driveway and then clearing the snow that might have fallen in a matter of minutes. Half hour, tops.
How does that saying go...Man plans, God laughs...
What usually happened is that I would arrive home and spend about a half hour trying to get up the snow filled driveway by backing into the neighbors drive, get a running start at it and hope I didn't slide off the side and roll the car over into the other neighbors yard. Or, get halfway up the drive and as the wheels lost grip gently slide down the driveway, slowly turn sideways and become wedged between the meager offerings of my snow removal techniques. If it wasn't me, it would have been comical, perhaps, but it was me and about all I accomplished was learning how to string swear words together in interesting and unique patterns. And that time the snowblower chute flew off and about forty tons of snow came down directly on top of me? Pure hilarity!
This went on for what seemed like centuries and then, as it always does, spring arrived. The eight foot high banks of snow that used to be my yard slowly melted and my vocabulary changed to one composed of normal sentences with normal words.
With the arrival of spring I would venture farther and farther from my front door and, eventually, head over to Bronson Lake. Sometimes I would take some photographs and sometimes I went over to make sure the lake was still there, making sure it hadn't grown tired of the pounding winter and left the area altogether.
'Revival' was one such visit. I believe it was April something and I had gotten up before sunrise in hopes of catching some elusive lighting as the day arrived. Using the extreme caution required to navigate a very steep and potentially dangerous access road I safely made it to the shore of the lake and setup the gear. It wasn't long and I could tell that what I would most likely end up with would be something gray and gloomy but I stuck it out anyway. It took me nearly a minute to get there, I might as well see what would come of it.
As it turned out, I was not disappointed. Well before the sun crept above the horizon the most beautiful and subtle shades of pink filled a portion of the sky before me and the barest hint of a wind kissed the surface, leaving it's mark with an intimate disturbance that was confined to half of the lake. And then the moment was gone. The color was transformed from the sublime to the mundane and the wind became just wind.