For example, at least 3 out of our 4 children were crying during the seconds between each of these shots. But, thanks to the Golden Hour, I don't really remember the nasty mood I was in after wrangling those sticky little bodies, bribing for acceptable smiles, and repeatedly wiping the Congo-shine from my face. Instead, as I look at these images, I recall a blissful evening in my jungle backyard with my darling children and good friends.
So, basically, the golden hour is to memories like oxytocin is to labor - wiping your memory clean of the nasty bits and convincing you to do it all again.
I swear this magic time must be at its most persuasive here in the Congo.
|All photos by some combination of J. Humphrey, J. Grimsrud, A. Sensamaust, S. Sensamaust.|