The Forest for the Trees

The first of many posts about photographing forests. Check out my 10 tips on photographing forests.

Let me introduce you to my enthusiasm of photographing forest scenes and why I get excited about photographing forests.

I grew up on the wet side of the Cascade Mountains in the Pacific Northwest, and I didn't know how good I had it. I'm a bit claustrophobic and the thick forests around the Puget Sound, at times, made me tense and anxious. I would often escape to the east side of the mountains to "let my eyes breathe". I felt free, and still to this day feel a sense of freedom when I hit the road to drive over Snoqualmie Pass into the arid open lands of eastern Washington. The colors of the earth filled of hazy greens and browns fascinated me - and I could see to the horizon. The west side of the mountains were just so  . . . green and if I could see to anything in the distance, it was usually the next tree. I felt locked in by those trees, trapped.

It was no wonder that I moved to the front range of the Rockies after college. Big open skies, prairies that went on forever, mountains at my back. I was in love with the sights, the tones, the smells. Even after moving home Montana, Wyoming and Colorado still pull at my heart. But what I didn't have there, what I couldn't have was the cool embrace of the Puget Sound forests. I missed them more than I thought possible. I came home on a wet autumn day - the gold and brown leaves of Big Leaf Maples drifting to the ground to rest in puddles in the roadway. Every frayed nerve in my body dissipated. I was home.

Winter that year was grey, the kind of grey that seeps into every color in the spectrum. But as spring arrived, I began to realize how many tones of green I had missed in my early years. As leaves unfurled in the forest the greens were soft and fresh. They appeared to vibrate to the sunlight as it streamed through the canopy to touch the different shades and textures of green. Oh, how my eyes opened. I drank in every new green I could see and held it close its beauty. To this day spring is one of my favorite times to photograph the forest. I love to tell its story of life and rejuvenation.

As summer takes hold, the forest is a cool place to relax from the hectic days of activity. I slow down when I enter the forest. The trees shade my trail and I look for the textures in the moss and leaves. Flowers and berries dot the trail side with splashes of color - contrasting beautifully against the greens of Salal and Oregon Grape.

But all too soon it seems, splashes of another season begin to show in the bright places along the edges of the forest. Vine Maple is the first to turn from green. Oranges and reds speckle the landscape - demonstrating to the rest of the forest how beautiful it can become. Autumn would be my other favorite season in the trees as the vibrant colors of berry bushes and deciduous trees compliment the dark greens of our conifer.

Growing up, I used to describe winter as grey. Everything was grey, even yellow. Grey, boring, and depressing. I really can't say that anymore. I head to the forest for contrasts during the winter months. Contrast of white snow against dark trees. The soft texture of snow against the rough texture of bark. The movement of falling snow against the stationary forest.

Each forest season has its story and I am eager to help tell it.

Jewels in the Meadow

Clouds hang low over the mountain meadows dampening the fiery hues of autumn. Grey mists create a backdrop to the reds of the huckleberry and golden grasses. There is no distance for your eyes to wander so instead they wander through the meadow followed closely by your feet.

Raindrops clinging tenuously to leaves and blades of grass quiver in the slight breeze letting go as you pass, anxious to wet your shoes. You stop to watch as they fall. As gravity pulls them downward, they stretch grasping desperately to their perch until suddenly they let go and splatter onto your boots.

Drops sparkle in the muted sunlight - a string of jewels along a stalk of grass bowing deeply to your passing. Glittering in a cluster in the palm of a dried lupine. Dangling precariously from the tip of a brightly colored leaf. One breath and they fall. One step and they're gone.

The meadow beckons you forward and you follow to see the views - not up and out, but down and inward.

Taking Flight

The finger resting on my camera's shutter release had already lost feeling, numb from exposure to the frigid January morning. But morning is one of the best times to photograph birds which is why we were at the Billy Frank Jr Nisqually Wildlife Refuge - we were photographing birds.

It had been a few years since my last visit to the refuge and I'd had a bit of a hankering to get back down there, but I also wanted to schedule a trip during high tide in hopes of seeing more duck closer in. After checking the tide charts for the area, I decided to run down on the last Sunday in January. Then I thought it would be fun to invite a few people to join me and opened up an activity through the Seattle Mountaineers.

I was joined by my sister, a couple of our friends, a hiking buddy and a few new people in my life. Most were naturalists of some type who had no problem telling this non-birder about the birds we were seeing. One participant drew my attention. He is the the director of the State Parks Foundation, the fundraising partner for the Washington State Parks Commission. A person of interest for a photographer writing a book about the state parks.

We chatted a bit about birds and a little about the book. He even gave me a few ideas on finding a boat or two to get me to the smaller islands in the San Juans. And when he and another fellow had difficulty with their cameras, I was able to step in with my expertise and help them make the necessary adjustments.

By the end of the morning, my spirit took flight with hope and joy that my project has support and I will be able to finish.

Let Go

We met in college, my 1st husband and I. He was nice and paid attention to me, a shy girl who rarely went on dates. We started dating and a few months later he proposed. I said yes.

After we were married, the problems started. The warnings were there prior to our wedding, but I had ignored them not really knowing any better. Life was supposed to get better after marriage, right?

I knew I would never give him children when he woke up in the middle of the night and threw my cat against the walk because Checkers walked across him.

His dream was to be a photojournalist. I encouraged him to follow his dreams because that's what wives do and I stood by him while he pursued his dream. We went to Ohio so he could attend a top school.

It was there that it really got worse. Everything that went wrong in his life or that he imagined went wrong, was my fault. He didn't get the class he wanted - my fault. He didn't pass a test - my fault. The river flooded us into our rental home - my fault.

Jealousy followed me everywhere. His professor mentioned once I was a better photographer then he was - he put my photography down at every opportunity. I even quit photography to make him happy. If he saw me talking to a male classmate I must be having an affair. I withdrew from having friends.

Sadly, none of that helped. He had his own demons he was fighting. He decided one day to use his fists on me to fight them. The day I showed up at a friends in tears and bruises and she escorted me to the emergency was the start of my freedom from his terror.

The journey to freedom would take another 20+ years.

I tried for years to let go of my resentment for him and how he treated me to no avail. I held onto it like a frazzled old teddy bear that had long ago lost is usefulness in keeping me comfortable.

On this last day of 2016, while driving over Stevens Pass I began thinking about the progress of my photography from those early years in film. And I thought of my 1st husband and how at time he struggled with photography and wondered how he might be doing. I wondered if he had finally found a path that would give him joy. I hoped that he was happy and doing well in his life.

And realized that I had finally forgiven him and let go of my anger and resentment.

I smiled for myself and sent a little wish of well being to him, wherever he is.

These Serendipitous Moments

We were camped at the edge of a lake along the Pacific Crest Trail, the only campers there – just me and Zillah, my faithful hiking companion. We had hiked all day and by evening were ready to snuggle into our tent. Expecting a warm evening, I had left the rainfly unzipped on the tent to hopefully catch a breeze during the night. But that is not all that we would catch. As dusk settled over the little lake Zillah leaped up, hackles raised and with her nose pressed against the bug mesh of the tent let out a low rumbling growl. Bear! I peered out the tent wondering what I should do to protect us both. The splashing from the lake told me that it was coming across the lake for us. Squinting against the darkening light I saw not a bear coming at us to tear us apart, but a herd of elk playing in the lake. They splashed in it. They chased each other. They squealed elk squeals of delight. Danger averted, Zillah and I settled back into bed and listened to the elk playing until we drifted to sleep. The next morning, I looked across the lake and one lone cow stood at the opposite shore. She trotted off into the forest when she saw me. At that moment I realized I alone had experienced that marvelous interaction.

After several years, I still treasure that evening near Fish Lake and I was reminded how special it was recently on two wildlife encounters.

The 1^st encounter occurred while walking around the grounds at American Camp in the San Juan National Historical Park. I had received advice from a couple who lived on the island regarding which fork in the trail would be the best. Their advice took we along the top of the bluffs overlooking Haro Strait towards Grandma’s Cove. The cove itself is well worth the walk but as I was just finishing up trying to capture the beauty of the cove, I turned to look into the brilliant brown eyes of a silver fox. She seemed to recognize that I was no threat to her at all and meandered around on the same bluff as I was on for 20 minutes while I happily photographed her. Finally, I decided it was time for me to head back and she decided to try hunting on another part of the bluff. All the time we spent together not a single other person joined us. It was my little moment with this beautiful creature.

A few days later, I was attending an artist and photographer retreat at Mt Baker. While many of the participants were spread out through the meadows with their easels and tripods or hiking in groups to see cloud enshrouded views, I meandered through the meadow talking to photographers and artists about the colors and inspirations. After a bit – close to lunchtime – I started back to the lodge along the road and surprised a couple of ptarmigan taking refuge in some bushes beside the road. Cars passed by as I quickly created a few images of one little gal eyeing me before jumping off her little rock. I couldn’t wait to get back to the lodge and look at the images and smiling to myself. 

Wilderness Symphony

Have you ever listened to the concert in a woodland meadow. In the evening when a stillness covers the world, night time creatures begin to stir, making their presence known by voicing their songs.

An owl hoots and is answered by another in the distance. They are the base to my evening's theme.

Soon they are joined by the chorus of frogs heralding spring or crickets warmed by the summer's day. Singing through the night hoping that their song entices a mate to come closer. I want to come closer, sit in the middle of the chorus and let their song lift my heart towards the sky.

The cicada's vibrating rhythm adds the soothing percussion to help you drift to sleep. My thoughts begin to wander into a dream, stepping lightly through the meadow fireflies lighting my way.

Just as I touch my sleep, an elk begins the haunting flute-like call bringing his mates to him and warding off competitors. Another across the meadow responds to his warning. A third lets them know that he too is there. Waiting. Yearning. Challenging. Their voices float over the meadow. Undulating. Caressing. One drops as another lifts.

I succumb to the lullaby and sleep to dream.

Going Solo

I often find inspiration on social media sites when my friends ask questions that really get me thinking. Near Christmas, a question was asked about holiday memories and I wrote a post about some of my favorite holiday memories.

Recently a female hiking friend of mine asked when any of her female outdoorsy friends decided to do their first solo backpack and why.

Good question.

I can tell you that for the longest time, heading into the backcountry by myself was a frightening proposition. A habit of reading true stories of people getting lost and dying while in the backcountry alone made the idea unfathomable to me. Why would anyone do that? You could get eaten by a mountain lion, mauled by a bear, fall of a cliff, freeze to death, get lost and starve, drown, break a leg . . . the list was endless of all the horrible and nasty ways you could meet you maker in the wilderness.

But then, well, isn't that the same list I had for everything that could happen to you in the wilderness anyway? What was the big deal? If I have an accident, it really didn't matter if I was going solo or I was with hiking buddies. And anyone who really knows me, knows that I'm pretty much an accident waiting to happen.

But you can't always live in fear, can you? In the years prior to my first solo backpack I had tried my hand at alpine scrambling, cross country skiing, kayaking, long distance backpacking and winter camping. All things I had been afraid of before but succeeded in accomplishing my goals. My next goal on the list - a solo backpack.

My number one recommendation for backpacking alone is to plan and plan well. I chose a destination I had been to a few times either with others or on day trips - Summerland Park in Mt Rainier National Park. Checking with rangers helped greatly with my planning - I knew the trail conditions, weather forecast and wildlife activity before I packed my pack.

My number two recommendation is to tell another person your exact route and itinerary. This is a good plan even if you're heading out with other people. My most reliable contact person lives in Montana and I email her the itinerary, route (trail names and numbers), which forest or park and the number to call in an emergency (the county sheriff's office - 911 does no good when you are a few counties away).

My first trip was just an over-nighter, but it led to longer trips filled with fantastic adventures. There's a sense I get when I'm out alone of self-reliance, wildness and community with nature.

Going into the wilderness alone isn't for every one, but if you dare to take the chance you will never regret it - unless you get eaten by a mountain lion.

Christmas Memories

A friend posted on Facebook the other day asking for our favorite memories. She wanted to give her kids memories, not presents because she treasured the memories of Christmas from her childhood.

It got me to thinking about my favorite memories and I'd like to share them with you.

When my sister & I were young, we lived in an apartment above the clubhouse of a golf course. Dad worked on Christmas running the course and had to be ready for the golfers before the sun came up. But he always wanted to be there when we opened presents. We'd get up and open our presents, hug and kiss mom & dad then go back to bed with a toy or two. Dad would go to work. Mom would get busy in the kitchen. Not for us really, but for the golfers. The café at the golf course was closed for the holiday and mom couldn't let the golfers go home with empty bellies. There were pies to be baked, cookies to be put out, veggies to steam, meats to roast, drinks to chill and pineapple chunks to soak in rum. We'd wake up again to the savory smells coming from the kitchen and play as golfers streamed into the dining area mom had set up as a buffet with candles and decorations.

There was warmth and love flowing throughout our home.

Several years later, I was away at college - what felt like a world away from family and friends. I had just escaped from a violent marriage, was facing Christmas alone and feeling all the lonelier as my friends at school had gone home. I cried myself to sleep holding onto the one thing that kept me going, my dog Max. For a tree, I cut down with a kitchen knife a little scraggle of a tree (think Charlie Brown), wrapped the trunk in rags so it would stand upright in the holder and threw some tinsel and lights on it. At least I'd have a tree even if there were no presents underneath. My cupboards were pretty bare - hotdogs and Top Ramen were the fare for most days and I wondered if I should splurge.

A few days before Christmas, a man I had been tutoring called and invited me to spend the day with him and his family. He was a man who had seen the underbelly of humanity in himself and was fighting his way out of the waste he had become. She was the daughter of a preacher who saw the potential of the man he wanted to be. They had four kids together and they all loved to sing - so did I. They had no more than me as they were also college students and struggling to make ends meet. But they had room in their home and their hearts for a lonely woman on Christmas.

We ate food from their garden preserved for the winter, sang Christmas carols and filled their home with warmth and love.

These are memories I will treasures for as long as I may.

Merry Christmas.
Heidi

It's becoming a wonderful journey.

A few months ago I decided to turn a personal project into a book. A rather frightening idea for me. All my apprehensions of putting my knowledge, my talent, myself out for public display keep creeping into my internal dialogue.

What if I fail?

What if I do get it done and everyone hates it?

What if I succeed? Could I live up to the expectations?

My experiences while working on the book have, if not squashed these doubts, at least muted them.

First while driving through a state park on Whidbey Island one morning, I happened across a great horned owl sitting on a sign post next to the road. I stopped my car thinking it would fly away when I did. It didn't. I popped open my trunk and pulled out my camera. The owl was still there watching me. It continued to sit there while I rattled off about a dozen frames before it had had enough and flew away into a tree.

A remarkable experience made all the more significant to me by the fact that my mother loved owls. She has been gone from my life for more than a quarter of a century. But seeing this owl, I knew she would have been proud of me and my project. That her encouragement would have helped me through the tougher times. I was filled with a warmth and happiness as if she had been there to give me a hug. I knew I was doing what was right for me.

Now I am also one who is afraid to ask for help - afraid to be an inconvenience to others. So for most of my time researching parks I've been heading out alone. Driving to and from parks by myself or with my dog Zillah who makes an excellent road trip buddy. But it does get lonely.

My last couple of park trips, I've been on the road with friends and I asked rather hesitantly if we could possibly stop so I could grab a couple of photographs and walk around to get a feel of the place. My friends all replied with an enthusiastic YES - happy to help me achieve my goal.

The support I've received from friends has helped to spur me forward. When I began this journey and decided to devote more of my free time to the book over hiking, I kind of resented it. No I enthusiastically plan my weekends around the book and find hiking can get in the way of it. It may be a hard fought balance in the coming months, but this excitement can't be contained.

Looking at the World a little Differently

Sunset reflected, Cape Meares Lighthouse, Tillamook, OR

Have you ever looked through images of a place you're planning a photo trip to and notice that so many of them look the same? Do you begin to wonder if you'll be able to add to the images already created? How can you create an image that both defines the place you're heading to and your vision?

The idea here is to explore your vision and creativity.

I do advocate that you look at images from other photographers (both professional and amateur) who visited an area. This gives you an idea of what has been explored before.

When you arrive, don't be afraid to follow in their footsteps. There is a reason art students often copy works of the masters - it helps them explore their own style.

While you're photographing the scene, keep an open mind and an open eye. Watch how the light is moving across the scene, look for a different vantage point, get closer (zoom in with both your lens and your feet if possible). You might find an image worthy of your vision.

The story behind the image above is one of timing and watching the light. We arrived at the Cape Meares lighthouse near Tillamook, OR as the sun was rapidly setting between clouds and the horizon. I noticed that I might be losing the light I wanted on the lighthouse so sped up a bit to try and catch the light without losing my friends. Then, looking up the hill behind the structure, I came up with an idea - catch the last light THRU the lens housing! I ran up the hill and composed an image but the light wasn't really as I had hoped. But I did notice the reflection in the window panes, re-positioned and recomposed for the above image. A slightly different view of a popular lighthouse.

Now it's your turn to look for an image that speaks to your artist's eye.

Waking up Early

The alarm cut through my dreams, a hot knife against my unconscious meanderings.

I looked blearily at my alarm and wondered why I would ever think the tinkled chimed and bird sounds would make a pleasant awakening.

Snooze.

No sooner had I closed my eyes than the alarm clattered in to my dreams like an unwelcome drunken guest.

Snooze!

But I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling debating whether I really wanted to get up and drive for 2 1/2 hours for the possibility of a sunrise.

After several minutes I decided no, I would sleep in, turned off my alarm, and snuggled deeply into my blankets. Then my hand was over the edge of the bed, picking up the pants I had deposited there the night before. First one leg, then the next. My shirt, shoes, hat, camera bag and I was out the door with car keys in hand.

Without thinking, I adjusted myself for the drive and sped off down the dark roadways. My only thought as I progressed was not to speed too much, the highways are lonely at 4:30 on a Sunday morning and I didn't want a ticket. A little over an hour later I was topping off the gas tank and grabbing a gas station coffee to keep myself company.

The air was filled with water, a fog that thickened and dispersed as I drove past farms and trees and finally started climbing towards the volcano. In Seattle we call Mt Rainier The Mountain, Mt St Helens The Volcano.

I was hoping to get sunrise from the Castle Lake Overlook, looking southeast at the volcano, color behind the snowy flanks and crater. But I would have to get above the fog.

Elevation marker 1,000 feet - fog. Keep going,
Elevation marker 2,000 feet - light fog, can see clouds, but no breaks in the clouds. Keep going.
Elevation marker 3,000 feet - clouds, and there are breaks in the clouds, maybe - no stars. Keep going.

As I rounded a corner there in front of me shone a sliver of the moon, shining like a beacon for me to follow. No stars, but there was the moon. This was going to be a good drive. I pulled into the overlook just after 6:30 as the sky was lightening on the horizon, and the clouds began to subtly blush.

Compose, shutter, compose, shutter, compose, shutter until the color faded. I listened to the coyotes howl in the distance.

I drove onto the Coldwater Visitor Center on the ridge overlooking Coldwater Lake. The Visitor Center is open limited hours on weekends during the winter. My destination was the bench below the Visitor Center with a view of the volcano peeking out from behind a ridge. Elk meandered through the meadow below me and the clouds blushed again. I played again with compositions before the color faded.  I watched as a lenticular cloud built up around the crater rim, looking like a clouded comb-over. I moved along.

Heading back down the highway, I stopped at the Elk Rock Overlook as the clouds behind the volcano began to yellow from the morning sun and the volcano's comb-over smoothed itself into a wig.

Waking up early, mystery and loveliness happen in the infant hours of the day.

My Favorite Images of 2013 (or 13 images for 2013)

Just like everyone else, when the end of the year draws near I look back at the previous 12 months and the adventures I had. Reminiscing is a way to see how far we've come and the accomplishments we made. It also helps us look forward and make plans for the upcoming year.

Looking back at the previous year, I saw a good times with good friends. A new venture start up and a new technique to play with. In all, it was a pretty good year and I look forward to the next year.

There were so many great adventures and images that went with them, I found it hard to narrow down to these 12. More often than not, it's the story behind the image that makes it a favorite of mine.

1. Radiator - My business venture begins! I took clients out on the 1st Trail Turtles Adventure to Opal Creek in Oregon to teach them the fundamentals of photography. Opal Creek is a remarkable area with old pieces of equipment lined along the trail to some beautiful waterfalls. We were working on depth of field with this radiator.

2. Starfish - I hiked out for a weekend of sleeping under the stars on the Washington Coast with a friend. I got up early the following morning to catch sunrise reflected over the Pacific Ocean and as I meandered along the tide pools, I was able to get close to several sea stars. I love the curves of this guy's arm over the rocks.

3. Sunburst over Big Four - Mid-Winter snowshoe with good friends, what more can be said?

4. Iridescence - I led a photo outing to the Butterfly Pavilion at the Seattle Center during the dreary days of a Seattle winter. I used a diopter filter to get really close to the wings of the butterflies. I just love the sparkling blue.

5. Cherries and the Capitol - For a couple of days every April the cherry blossoms turn the gardens around Washington's Capitol building a light and cheery pink. I went to the sundail on the south side of the building and lined it up with the entryway for this image. This is 3 exposures blended together and a lot of patience as people walked back & forth.

6. Roasting Hotdogs - Each summer, I lead hikes for the Conditioning Hiking Series from the Mountaineers. And every summer we have a campout filled with hikes, laughter and food. Fond memories for the making.

7. Mt Adams over Snowgrass Flats - When people ask why I enjoy backpacking so much, I have a few stories to tell and images such as this to show. By the way, my tent is the cream colored one on the left.

8. Cradling Rose - Of all the images I came back with from my vacation in California, I love this one. I have started working on garden photography more and more this past year. I think it's my mom in me. The cradling aspect of this rose is comforting to me and exciting, as if there is a world to be discovered in its embrace.

9. Kayaker in the Mist - Sometimes the celebrations in life aren't your own, but for those in your life who you love. My sister bought her first kayak this year, the girl who kicked and screamed when you tried getting her into open water, so afraid of it she was. She discovered kayaking and fell in love with the sport - I love the symbolism of her kayaking out of the mists of fear into a world of opportunity.

10. The Pink Room - I think there is a little bit of me left in Montana. I love exploring the towns and countryside and cry everytime I leave.This was taken in an old building in West Glacier, an abandoned apartment above the train depot. It's simple yet to me speaks volumes of the people who braved the west. 

11. Reflections - What's a year without some abstract fun? This is the Seattle Great Wheel reflected in the waters of Elliott Bay.

12. Dungeness Lighthouse - This year I learned about blending textures. This just so happens to be one of my first.

13. Penderoy - I love this little town in Montana. Since my introduction, I try to plan a trip here each visit to the area. I went out for sunrise this past summer and played on the open prairie as the sun colored the morning clouds.

So these were my favorites this past year, which were yours?

The Road before You

It snowed recently in the Seattle area. When it did, I got up early and went for a walk with my new camera. Near my home is a wonderful pathway. On sunny days, it is often crowded with walkers, dogs, strollers and bicyclists. Today there were very few people out in the snow and chill.

As I walked, I stopped and photographed simple scenes of winter. And felt pretty special walking out in the snow with hardly anyone else around. A few tracks in the snow revealed that I was not the 1st to pass this way, plus a bicyclist had ridden along the trail at some point in the morning. What a hearty soul they were.

I took my time. I had nowhere to go except forward. So I kept going.

Then I looked down and realized the snow was unmarred by footprints. I would be the 1st to tread here. I would be walking in fresh snow. There's a thrill to walking in fresh snow - to go where no one has gone, to have this pristine world in front of you ready for your adventure.

I stopped to absorb the moment.

I would be making my own trail.

And I stopped again.

What a great metaphor.

I would be making my own trail, here as in life. I get to decide where I walk and where not to walk. Isn't that cool? As with this trail, as with my life and my photography. And yours too. You get to walk down your path and make it your own. You get to decide how to live your life. You get to choose what your photography will be.

No one can live your life for you, nor can they tell you how to live it. Neither can they tell you which direction to take your photography. You get to do that.

There is only 1 right path and that is for you to decide. It's often scary, we'd love to follow in someone else's footsteps to know we are going in the right direction. But ultimately the right direction is for us to choose.

Detours are ok, too. You can join and follow others along the way. Others will follow you. Ultimately, you will know how these events and experiences were beneficial to you and others. But again, that is for you to decide.

It's all about you.

Are you ready to walk into the fresh snow?

Break out of your Comfort Zone

Admittedly, I like my comfortable places. My big squishy chair in the corner of my living room beckons me every night when I arrive home. I curl up in my chair, wrapped in a blanket to contemplate the day's events. Whenever I've had a rough day, it is to my chair I go to relax and refresh. And then there are days I sit in my chair and never want to get up.

Photography can be kinda like that.

We all have our comfort zones in photography, the styles and subjects we work with well and could photograph blindfolded. (Not really recommended unless you want to break into art images.)

For me, it's flowers. I can "fall" into the details of a flower with my camera and let its petals wrap around me like that blanket in my chair. Flowers are my go-to subject when I don't know what else to photograph or how to treat a scene. Or when I'm just being lazy.

On the flip side, we all have those styles and subjects we feel entirely uncomfortable with. We stress over the idea of photographing in these situations and find our "niche" so as to avoid them. It's so easy to say, "Thank you for the compliment, but I'm really a nature photographer. Here let me give you the name of a friend of mine who is really good at family portraits. I think you'll be very happy with her."

But if we always take the easy road, will we ever grow as photographers?

It was with this thought in mind when a friend mentioned she should have me come over to photograph her grand-daughter. I said, "I'd love to." And then I gulped. I had only photographed one other baby. What do I do?

What if I mess up? What if I just can't get the baby to behave? What if she doesn't like the images? What if I drop the camera . . . on the baby? What if, what if, what if.

What if I stop fretting, do some research and show up at the session with a smile on my face? Aren't those better questions to ask? So I did and kept reminding myself that it will be ok. No matter what, it'll be ok.

In the end, I'd like to say everything turned out wonderfully, but the light was a little off (luckily I knew how to deal with that) and the baby fretted and fussed (mom and dad knew what to do there). At one point we put the blanket over mom and had her cradle the baby - something I thought of from some very creepy images I had seen in my internet travels.

Even though the photo session wasn't perfect, it was fun. We all had a good attitude and enjoyed the afternoon. Oh, and grandma loved the pictures.

Is it time to become uncomfortable in your photography?

Tree in Solitude

"I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity." - Albert Einstein

I read this quote from Albert Einstein and almost passed it by, before scrolling the page back up to look at it again. Then I imagined this tree, hunched over the canyon rim of Dead Horse State Park in Utah.

How fitting.

I had spotted this tree years ago on a trip to the southwest. The setting was simple - nothing in the background to distract except a dark grey sky. It was a vision of solitude. As a sapling, it must have struggled and fought for every inch gained for its roots and drops of water. Wind must have buffeted the poor young tree, threatening to tear it from the cracks in the rock. Maybe, if it had  other trees surrounding, the elements would not have been so harsh. Yet the tree withstood to grow in maturity with strength and beauty.

How many times in our youth do we yearn for someone to stand with us against the elements and when we turn to look for someone to buffer us we're standing alone? The only action we can take to survive is to dig in and hang on to our vision, beliefs, and selves. And in time, we too grow into our beauty and strength. We find we can stand on our own.

Hometown Tourism

Do you know all the "secret" spots of your favorite destination? Do you know the best place to get sunrise? Sunset? When you should head out for the colors of spring or autumn? Where you should go on bright sunny days or dreary wet days?

But then you see an image from someplace in your own backyard and you think, "where is that? I thought I knew everything there is about my home. But I've never seen that."

I do that a lot. There are a few place I know well. So well that I am the "go to" person for my friends, friends of friends, and acquaintances.

But my own back yard? Not so much. Is it because I don't think there are images to be found in the parks and locations closer to home? 

No, not really. 

When I have a day to explore I'm heading out, away, to the far reaches. I just feel as if I've gotten something accomplished if I drive a long distance to hike and photograph.

And so I miss some great places.

I grew up along Highway 2 in Washington. A wonderful road (if you don't mind sitting in a parking lot on a Sunday afternoon as you head back home from a great weekend adventure) of trail heads, waterfalls, rivers and in the fall, colors galore. I've driven over this road so many times in my years in Washington that I should know every turnout, every destination, every sight.

But alas, I do not. I was always heading for another destination - not making the road itself a destination. 

Recently I volunteered to take a group of photographers along Highway 2 for a photo tour, only to realize I was at a loss as to where to stop for the best photo opportunities. Could we have chosen a place I know like the back of my hand?

But then, I thought - why not? It will finally give me a chance to explore an area that I keep saying I'll have to stop there someday. 

Do you ever tell yourself that? "I should stop there someday?" as you drive past a pretty turn out or sweet little park. 

I say make today that someday. Take the time, explore that little corner of your backyard. Become a tourist in your own home. You might never know what you find.

The above image was made at Deception Falls along Highway 2. A turnout (parking lot that's usually closed) that I've been saying for years - I should stop there. I finally did.

Making Visual Sense

Have you ever been presented with a scene that stops you in your tracks? Something in the scene attracted your eyes, but what was it? For after you stopped, you couldn't see what had attracted you in the 1st place.

But you knew something is there. What do you do? Do you continue on your way? Or do you investigate further?

You've undoubtedly heard this before, but I'm going to say it again - sometimes photography is a matter of patience. And this confusing scene in front of you is a perfect example.

Slow down.

Look.

Investigate.

Go back look at the scene again and start to really look at the elements. Bring your camera to your eye to help weed our any distracting elements. Take several images from different viewpoints. Go low, go high, zoom in and out. Use your feet to get closer and look at different angles. Isolate sections of the scene until you find what you like and even what might have originally stopped you.

The above scene was an expansive marsh full of grasses and shrubs that never let the eye rest. I wanted to best capture the scrambled nature of the marsh but was having trouble getting it all in. Plus the day was rather foggy and with any open landscape images the sky was blown out and boring.

I started looking at the marsh through my lens and say this bare shrub - scrambled and messy like the marsh but defined in its craziness. In one small section of the marsh, I found image that would help define the marsh.

So the next time you walk past a scrambled scene and think you see something, stop and look more closely.

Trust your instinctive eye.

There is more to Life . . .

To be honest, I've felt a little burnt out by the time August rolled around. Every weekend since April has been filled with one hike or event after another. Not just one day of the weekend but the whole weekend. My apartment was cluttered from lack of cleaning. My nerves were raw. My psyche, in need of healing.

I've had a full summer and wonder, what was in it for me?

I led hikes for gracious hikers but hardly a hike went of without some issue to frazzle my nerves and question my own decisions.

It put me in a tailspin. Did I really want to lead? If all I got was grief, why would I want to?

But wait, was all I got on the hikes I led, grief? Was there no enjoyment? Was there nothing for me? I became disheartened and left for my vacation in California with a heavy heart.

My travels took me to Point Reyes National Seashore, a place that is perfect for a person looking for a little isolation for time to reflect. Upon arriving, I stopped in at the visitor center to get a few maps and information before heading out to get the lay of the land. Fog shrouded the bluffs overlooking the ocean. I love hiking in the fog when my brain is overwhelmed by life.

My first hike took me to the most northern point of the park. I hiked out with a couple from San Francisco but soon left them behind as they photographed the elk. I found myself hiking alone in the scrubby vegetation, fog blocking the views, but I was fine as I let my brain relax.

Two days later, I started off on a different trail that a fellow visitor told me looked just like a scene from The Hobbit. The bonus of this hike, she said, was coming to the end of the trail, a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I left early enough on the hike that I startled a bobcat while it was waiting for breakfast. I hiked through thick forest arching over the trail, like a scene out of The Hobbit (she wasn't lying) and came out of the trees to a cliff overlooking the Pacific Oceans. My bonus was that I was the only one there.

I sat down and listened to the waves wash against the sands below. In. Out. I closed my eyes and let my breathing relax. In. Out. Calm.

Why is it we are calm on vacation yet when we get back we lose that calmness and every promise we make to ourselves to bring back less stress?

I came back to another hike with a complaining hiker. And although the hiker iritated me, I tried to keep that promise I made on vacation to not worry about the things I couldn't change.

What Happens during a Shutdown.

On the East Coast in Washington DC, congress is bickering over a budget which has caused a shutdown of the federal government. No appropriations? No budget. No payroll. Employees furloughed.

In the other Washington, the one on the west coast, I wonder if I will be able to go to work next week. I don't work for the federal government, but the non-profit I do work for manages the bookstores in the National Parks, Forests and other public lands in the northwest.

The parks are closed. And if the parks are closed then there are no visitors to buy books. And very little work for me to do.

I love our National Parks and public lands. It's the main reason I accepted this position and stick with it through all the troubles our organization and industry go through.

I sit reading the websites, hoping for some reconciliation between the childish antics of congress. Nothing.

I worry for my friends and co-workers who are, for a lack of a better term, unemployed. In some families both adults work for the forest or park and both have no income.

I worry for myself, a single person who barely has enough to make it through a month of bills on her savings.

And I am concerned for the gems of our land - our National Parks.

For as long as I can remember, my vacations have revolved around one National Park or another. There have been the crazy road trips where I hit up to 6 parks in one week.

My parents took me camping in the parks and the time spent exploring the forests, mountains, beaches instilled in me a wonder of the natural world I have today.

Just a few weeks ago, I led hikes to the North Cascades National Park for the Mountaineers. Today the trails we hiked are blocked. No access.

And I feel a loss.

Looking through the images from this past year, 12 times. At least once a month. And was planning a trip back to the North Cascades next weekend.

If there is no resolution, I am not the only person needing to change plans. Nor will I be the only person wondering if I will have work the following week.

How has the shutdown affected you?

Does photography exist in a Vacuum?

I've heard some opinions opposite to mine and I try to listen with an open mind - There is a reason someone believes the way they do. But then I am not perfect and some opinions I quickly dismiss even before the opinionator even finishes their explanation.

One such opinion I heard lately is in regards to viewing other photographer's work. This gentleman tried to explain to me why he never looks at other photographers' work. He doesn't own photo books. He doesn't read photo blogs. He doesn't look at photo websites. He doesn't even do image searches when trip planning.

He didn't want to his photography to be persuaded by other's work. It was if he thought his photography existed in a vacuum. He wanted to go into a scene with fresh eyes - see it how he sees it. I can get the last part in a way. But I don't believe that art and photography can survive in a vacuum.

I enjoy reading blogs by other photographers - to hear how they came upon their inspiration for an image. Even how they technically created an image. There is often a good story just in the telling of their adventure to a place. I follow photographer's whose images I enjoy and photographer's who have a great understanding of photo editing.

My collection of photo books alone gave a mover a hernia once. (I felt awful about it but was so happy to have all my books show up intact.)

Why do I like reading the blogs & photo books? 2 reasons really. The first is to see what has gone before. The second is for inspiration. Let's explore these quickly.

To See What has Gone Before

One of the reasons this photo acquaintance used to not look at other's photos is that he wanted to go into a scene and not have what others photographed "taint" how he viewed the scene. And I do see a slight problem with that. He mentioned that he got offended when someone would say "That looks just like the image photographer X made last year."  If you don't know what has happened prior to your arrival, you may end up repeating what has happened before. Remember that old history adage? Those who don't know or learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

You can still enter a scene with your own eyes, but you also have an idea of what images were captured there before.

Thousands of images are taken of Mt Shuksan near Mt Baker with Picture Lake in the foreground. It's a classic image - google it. But just because there are already thousands of images out there of this subject doesn't mean you shouldn't shoot the image for yourself. And that's just the point - it ultimately is for yourself. Look at the previous images, see what has been done before. Your task is to make the image your own which leads us to my second point.

Finding Inspiration

You've looked through several images of the place you're about to visit. Was there something you liked in those images? Was there something you didn't? With those thoughts in mind, and those images, you can enter a scene and see where someone had stood before, the light they used, the elements they excluded. Then make your own decisions about the scene. Maybe they were shooting during the summer and that branch to your left was left out, but in the spring when you are there that branch is filled with glorious flowers you do not want left out of your image.

Remember this is YOUR story of YOUR adventure, so you are looking at what YOU want to do with the scene. But you already have some experience with the scene and aren't approaching it blind, but with ideas already stirring in your head - create YOUR ideas, make them come to fruition.

Seeking inspiration does not hinge on one place only. The above image was taken in Federation Forest in Washington State. As I ramble through the trees looking for moss-draped trees to photograph I was struck by this tree. It reminded me of something.

It reminded me of another image I had seen just a few days before. One of the photographers I follow is Ian Plant and he created an image Carcinus Arises that reminded me a lot of this vine maple a continent away. Would have I even stopped to photograph this vine maple had it not been for Ian's image?

Was my image "tainted" by his? Did I copy him or did I add my own vision?