My Favorite Images of 2018

Another year comes to an end and we all seem to look back on the previous 12-month increment with reflection. Reflection of what happened in the year and reflection on what the future holds. As I look back, I think on all the friends, old and new, who helped to write my year’s stories. Of the laughter shared, the tears cried, and the bonds we will always carry with us. So, each of these images has a story to tell, of what I came to treasure I this passing year and sometimes a life-long story of friendship.

January – One of my favorite images from this past year is also one of my first. It is a story of trying something new, of a challenge offered and accepted. When the notification for a dance photography meet-up showed up in my email, this nature-girl and flower photographer knew she’d be out of her element. But I signed up anyway and found joy in the simple beauty of a beautiful human form. I was only able to meet with this group one other time, but I hope to meet with them more in the future – the continuing challenge of stepping away from comfort.

February – It’s taken a long time for me to feel comfortable with promoting myself as a photographer and writer. We all know how real that imposter syndrome is and I had been feeling it for some time as I struggled with my book project and wondering if anybody would care. This beam of sunlight was an awakening. This shaft of light reminded me of all the reasons my book is important – that it is not the grand images of wide landscapes with startling color so often searched for by so many photographers that persuade people to love their public lands – it’s these intimate moments of a simple shaft of light through a misty forest that touches the soul.

March – The boat tossed and tipped under my unsteady legs as I gripped the railing tightly, my heart skipping a beat as each wave hit us broadside. It had been since childhood that I’d been in a boat this small on the open ocean. My cousin casually walked towards the front of the boat and I wished for her confidence on sea. Somewhere I knew the boat wouldn’t capsize, I just needed to remember that and soon, on cautious feet, I followed her. We were here with her granddaughters to see whales something I had yet to see on the few whale watching trips I’d been on. But the guide promised us whales. And whales we were shown.

April – In all my travels documenting the state parks, I have come across a few places within the parks that touch my soul deep to an inner core. The places are unshakable in my psyche and I revel in knowing they are there, waiting for my return. This madrone grove at Miller Peninsula State Park is one of these places. There is something about the madrone tree with its vibrant green leaves and red peeling bark that exposes a lime green under-bark. And seeing so many grouped together on this hillside has me wishing for a chair to lounge in, so I can look up and dream the day away.

May – Three women rocket scientists walking to demonstrate their final project at the University of Washington. Do I really need to say more?

June – In the far reaches of southeast Washington is a little park on a hill overlooking the Grande Ronde river valley. Each spring, the sun paints the park with brilliant colors of wildflowers. If I could be here every June to see this display, I would. This June I got a little more than I had hoped for: colorful wildflowers, gorgeous sunset colors, and a sense of courage I never thought I’d need. For I shared this meadow with a meandering black bear – the most beautiful bear I had ever seen. He was a tawny brown with a jet-black face. And thankfully far more afraid of me than I was of him. We both survived the encounter and I wish him well in his bear life.

July – The father and his adult son pushed their kayaks into the bay as the sun slid closer to the horizon. Quietly they paddled out as my friends and I watched from the beach. We could hear the son tell his father, “This is a great idea, Dad.” We sat on driftwood chatting quietly as the sky darkened then turned to shades of yellow and orange. From across the bay we heard the excited words of a son and father sharing a special moment of kayaking in liquid gold. I looked to my friends, each of them I met on a trail somewhere and thought, “Yeah, this IS a pretty special moment.”

August – As kids we fought and most likely tried to kill each other at some point. Maybe not on purpose. But that’s what siblings do. We pinch. We poke. We punch. And at some point, as we grow, we become friends. I always say, the only time my family got along was when we were camping. My sister and I learned to bond over that. Camping together is easy as we are comfortable in our self-reliance. She is slower on the trail and often in camp, but that only gives me more time to photograph flowers. I fly by the seat of my pants too often, but she’s great at making a plan. Summer seems empty without a trip with her in it.

September – This was a year for trying something new because the old habits weren’t getting me anywhere. In January I joined a writing group to kick myself in the butt and get writing on the book. And I met some of the most amazing people, each with their own backstory and motivations. I admired them all with their ability to tell a story, write a poem, and be vulnerable to the process. We found ways to explore our writing, our friendship and ourselves. A few of us took a trip to Lake Quinault for a writing weekend. With clouds slung low over the forested hills we wrote, we cried, we laughed, then we wrote some more.

October – My mother died too young. Leaving behind two young women still searching for a sense of self. At times her loss is immeasurable even after 30 years. Then there are times where I feel her presence, a whisper on the wind, an agate on the beach, the glimpse of an owl. Mom loved owls and collected figurines and pictures. During my divorce, mother came to me in an owl-shaped pillow I just couldn’t let go of. The comfort I felt from a silly little pillow helped get me through some very tough episodes. So now, I like collecting little owl figurines and pictures.

November – Photographic destinations: Yosemite, Blue Ridge Mountains, Yellowstone, Oklahoma? I had never really thought of Oklahoma as a photographic destination before – it is a fly-over state after all. But there I was, booking a flight to a destination on a whim and a photo I had seen from another photographer. I planned and planned then threw all that out the window as I explored a part of the country I had never been to before. It was a reminder of the journey I find myself on – to show that there is beauty everywhere, you just have to look.

December – As with January, my last favorite photo is one of the last photos I created in 2018. And I notice that Fields Spring State Park made the list twice. On the last days of the year, my whale-watching cousin with my camping sister and a trail buddy (all I need was a writing friend to really tie the year together) packed ourselves into a little sedan and drove to SE Washington for some snowshoeing and solitude. As we explored the winter trails, snow fell on the Blue Mountains with just a hint of sun. It was the perfect blend of winter and friends.

To you and yours, I wish you a story-filled 2019.