I don’t visit Hoover Dam often during the winter. It’s too stark and void of people.
As the weather begins to change in early spring there is a hint of color along the eastern shoreline as flower buds and leaves appear in the treeline. The grey monotone of winter begins its slow evolution to the bright colored tones of spring. And, people arrive.
One of the earliest arrivals stood for me at the center of the dam for several minutes. I’d told him that I wanted a photo of him with his hat, the red shirt, his beard, and cigarette.