Ah, but how much light? Enough to freeze the wings of a bee in flight? Enough to keep all of a scene in focus? Enough to get a good shot of a small thing, zoomed?
And of what quality? Flat, cold illumination from an overcast sky or warmth from a late-afternoon sun or blue-sky cheeriness?
And coming from where? Straight overhead, leaving no shadows and no real place to stand either, or strongly directional, offering at least the possibility of getting it behind me?
In my ongoing negotiation with my camera — trying to persuade it to record what I see and how a scene feels — light is the trickiest player.
As we made our way around the Cabot Trail, everything changed: the geology, the scenery, the position of the sun, and the cloud cover. So, too, did the photos.