A photograph keeps the view while the photographer keeps the weather, waiting, and company around it.

The frame holds the view and almost nothing else. Everything that made the morning worth being in stays with the person who was there: the cold, the hour of standing about, who was talking beside them. That is why your own pictures mean more to you than to anyone you show them to, and why they can look oddly flat on a screen.

When you show someone a photograph, tell them one thing that is not in it. Where you had walked from, what the wind was doing, who was waiting in the car. The picture becomes worth something to them once some of the surroundings come with it.