When I was younger and more prone to moments of wonder, I always chose to sit by the window when I flew. I loved the freshness of perspective that looking down from 36,000 feet gave me. As I have gotten older and more claustrophobic, however, I have increasingly opted to sit on the aisle. I want to be as comfortable as possible in that cramped aluminum tube, and when I arrive I want to get out as quickly as I can can. Which means, of course, I miss those moments of reflection and wonder that come from staring out the window as the country passes below.

I have seen so many amazing sights from the window of an airplane: lightning storms all along the eastern seaboard as I flew from D.C. to Miami; the thin, green ribbon of the Nile tracing its way through the Sahara; the flood-stricken Great Plains states; the mast of an enormous sailboat poking through the fog as we took off from Orange County, California; the Grand Canyon and the Meteor Crater in Arizona; the Milky Way and countless full moons and sunsets. As I think about those experiences, I feel indicted by Louis CK’s widely viewed Everything’s Amazing and Nobody’s Happy rant on Conan O’Brien’s talk show.

So, on a recent two hour flight, when I found myself in a row by myself, I moved from the aisle to the window, put away the stacks of reading materials I had brought and pulled down my camera from the overhead bin. It was hot on the ground and the air was hazy, but I still took about 250 photographs along the way. It was another example of a recurring phenomenon in my life as a photographer: the camera helps me to see. The world is an amazing place. I need to remember to slow down and look at it.

Here are a couple of images from my recent flight:

.

.

.