What if the moments that seemed most fleeting held the greatest significance?

As I stood there, camera in hand, watching the early morning light kiss the horizon, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a perfect late-summer morning at Ann Morrison Park in Boise, the coolness of dawn still lingering in the air. The Spirit of Boise Balloon Classic had just begun, and the familiar hum of excitement from the crowd blended with the sound of air being pushed into the balloons. That sound—the soft hissing of the burners—took me back to my childhood, back to when I watched these very balloons rise into the sky with wide-eyed wonder. But this time was different. I wasn’t just a spectator anymore; I was a photographer trying to capture that magic for myself—and for my children.

I could smell the crisp morning air, mixed with the scent of damp grass, and even the faint aroma of coffee brewing nearby from vendors setting up for the day. The park was alive with color: balloons in every design imaginable, from the stars and stripes to bold, intricate patterns. They floated gently against the pastel hues of the rising sun, and the sky was a canvas of possibility.

The biggest challenge was the light. Shooting at dawn presents its own set of difficulties—finding that perfect balance in exposure with long shutter speeds while trying to capture movement without blurring the scene entirely. There’s something special about photographing in that early light, though. The colors are richer, softer. I positioned myself near the fountains, hoping to catch the water rising in sync with the balloons. The reflections danced on the ground, creating a surreal, almost dreamlike effect. My heart raced as I adjusted settings, seeking to make time stand still in that perfect moment.

As I pressed the shutter, memories flooded back. The first balloon rally in 1991 was a little different back then, yet it sparked something timeless in Boise’s heart. Now, as the tradition continued with the Spirit of Boise, I found myself sharing this experience with my children, just as I had experienced it as a child. Seeing the wonder in their eyes brought everything full circle.

And though the sun rose quickly, shifting the light and changing the scene, I had captured something beyond the photo itself. I had captured the feeling, the history, and the magic of this event that has shaped our city’s summers for decades. It wasn’t just about the balloons, or the light, or even the photo—it was about passing down a tradition, sharing an experience, and making memories that will outlast us all.