We took a road trip following Hwy 2 from Astoria to Cannon Beach, OR. During the last leg of our journey to Seaside and Cannon Beach, the rain began coming down in buckets and the wind was blowing sand all over, but we decided to carry on, camera in hand. This photo came from that storm. Out in those waters was a surfer determined to put those waves to good use… maybe you can find him!
As we spent our usual sleeping hours on a local hilltop taking photos of this gorgeous full moon, we became so much more aware of how quickly time passes in the display of the moon’s orbit and earth’s rotation. It seemed like the minute we had all the settings to our liking, it was time to change position again just to keep up with the angle we wanted! Exactly what I love about the lens… it forces you to be intimately aware of your immediate surroundings… even if they’re as far away as the moon and stars.
These elegant birds are like rural pigeons, but I’m still quite fond of them. Spring is just around the corner, and, if you’ve ever seen Bambi, you know that all the critters come out “twitterpated“, especially the birds. It’s a time when, every morning, we get to listen to the doves whoo-whoo-ing, watching them do their airial mating dances, loudly flapping their wings as they ascend straight up, then gliding around in a circle to land. After a few of these dances have taken place, we see two lil’ doves perched side by side.
What Mother Nature does to remind us how small we really are, she makes up for in the tender mercies of wildflowers and the quiet solitude of mountain twilight.
Photographer: one that translates their unique view of a small or large part of the living experience through the lens. Sometimes it’s profound (Sontag’s photo of the little girl in Hiroshima); sometimes less so (featured photo in this article), but still interesting or meaningful in some way. That’s the great thing about photography. It’s a visual journal that, if presented effectually, touches human emotion in some kind of way, even if it’s a thought such as this, “I like this photo… I don’t know why…”, leading to an introspective moment, a thinking moment, about self, present surroundings, maybe past memories, or the world and the going-ons in it. Such as it is about this featured photo. Every time it comes into sight I think, “I should delete that.” But I can never bring myself to do it. I liked it and didn’t know why. So today I sat down and gave it some thought. I looked at it for awhile. Now I know. It’s a strong representation of an area I never liked much, and certainly never considered to be visually appealing, but now holds a meaningful place in my heart. Also, I like the simplicity and overall makeup of it. The area in this photo is just how it looks… big open spaces of blue sky, desert, and rock. Having read the history of the Colombia Basin and its origins, I have a greater appreciation for it. It’s beautiful in its own right, and that’s what a little bit of time considering this photo has elicited from me.
We spent several chilly hours on a county hilltop taking photos of the solar eclipse paired with a blood moon in April, 2015. We captured many photos of the phases of the eclipse, and the featured photo was the very last. It was probably around 4:00 a.m and the coloring you see is true to the moment. Part of my passion for photography is, not only capturing a singular moment in time, but in recalling the experiences that came with it. When I see this photo, I’m instantly back on that hilltop philosophizing ISO, aperture, shutter speed, and everything in-between… wearing wool gloves without the fingertips, teeth chattering, jumping in and out of the truck between shots to stay warm, and sharing time and laughs with my best friend.
This photo was taken while the Columbia river was very low because of a lower dam issue. Further down the river is the fabulous Gorge… famous for it’s summer concerts and, now, for it’s new winery and resort. This particular area is a landmark for me. It’s where I learned to water ski, fish, and held one of my first jobs. It’s special to my family, as my grandmother painted this exact viewpoint in watercolor and donated it to the local library, called, “After The Storm“.