Blog

“Live the Life of Your Dreams: Be brave enough to live the life of your dreams according to your vision and purpose instead of the expectations and opinions of others.” ― Roy T. Bennett I rolled over in bed. The rain had stopped, and I could see the sun was coming up, though it was still below the horizon. If I could only motivate myself to move. Photographers have a sixth sense. This is probably true of all people who spend time outdoors, but I think photographers develop a very keen understanding of weather, and how it may impact available light. The rule is simple: evening, or pre-dawn rain may yield extraordinary light. If those basic conditions exist, it may be worth taking a look. My son knows the system now. He'll magically appear when conditions look right, stand in front of me, and point at a window. I won't acknowledge him until he's cleared his throat for the third time; I'm just as aware as he is about the developing sky, but far more lazy. On this morning, I had to use the "5-Second Rule", developed by Mel Robbins, to blast myself out of bed. This 5-Second rule is not the one you are thinking of. By the time I was dressed, grabbed my backpack, and was at the car door, hints of pink had just licked the bottom of the clouds. I was headed to Afton State Park, about a dozen miles east of my house. I had been meaning to visit for a while, and figured this was as good a time as any. There was one other vehicle in the lot, but no one to be seen. Finding a compostion wasn't easy. I wandered back and forth to see what I could do. This is the part of photography that I struggle with, but also most enjoy. It's problem solving - exactly what I do in my other life. I settled on this tree and hoped the sky would provide enough interest to carry the rest of the image. You can see where an animal spent the night before in the matted grass to the left of the base of the tree. I am pretty happy with this image. It's not the best, but it's about getting out and practicing one's craft. Without that practice, there are no good photographs. There's no success without taking a risk for a potential opportunity.

“I can't say what my first thought was as I sunk below the surface, because it was mostly a string of four-letter words.” ― rachel hawkins The image above is Hidden Falls in Nerstrand Big Woods State Park, south of the Twin Cities. Below, is a story from yesterday evening. It happened in slow motion. The dock I had just, gently, lept onto sank into the lake I was hoping avoid. If you know me, the word "gently" is a gross exaggeration, but bear with me. Though it sank only six inches, I watched the ice cold water breach the sides and flow directly toward my running-shoe clad feet, too fast for me to leap back out of the way. I waited for the cold to register. I let out a shriek that would have been hilarious to a dry, bystanding, me. My daughter cracked a grin as I pictured the dock continuing to submerge, easing me into freezing baptism. Alas, the dock held and I lept back to the rocky path, shoes sloshing. The area we were in is located in the Lake Elmo Park Reserve. At the far end of the dock is a bird blind, complete with pictures of birds that can been seen in, and around, the lake. My daugter has called it the "little house" ever since she could speak, and we visit several times a year. When we arrived, yesterday evening, we were greeted by a cacophony of screeching birds that were flying in flocks to different areas of the reeds we were standing amongst, on the shore of the lake. Flocks of thirty or more would whiz by, swooping and ducking, following a leader we couldn't pick out. Then, they would dive out of sight, again, leaving us only with their audible calls. There were thousands of birds. The path to the little house was partially covered by the lake. With the water levels at the highest I've ever seen, I didn't think we'd be able to make it out to the blind. While I pondered if it was possible, Julia jumped into action - her eleven year-old mind had already having solved the problem. If we move rocks from the dry area of the path, to where it was submerged, we could hop onto the dock and get to the house. So we started moving rocks to extend the path. When we felt we had enough rocks to bridge the water, I went for it. The moral of the story: be ready to hike in wet shoes. Eventually, though still thoroughly wet, my shoes warmed up, and we continued the hike without further incident. On our way home, Julia did her best impression of the noise I made when the lake and I made contact. It wasn't good. Luckily, she's the only witness.

“There is a waterfall in every dream. Cool and crystal clear, it falls gently on the sleeper, cleansing the mind and soothing the soul.” ― Virginia Alison I'm slowly finding that the more time I spend at Tettegouche, the more wonders it contains. I attempted to hike to this location last Spring as the sun was setting. I got about half-way before visions of bears and wolves entered my mind. Perhaps, I watched Nature a little too much as a kid. The hike to the High Falls was great. I loved the suspension bridge, and I also really enjoy the slow reveal of the falls area. It starts with glimpses, then you get closer and really hear the roar of the water. After quite a few stairs through view-obscuring trees, you emerge into the opening surrounded by cliffs and rock. In these moments, especially as a photographer, it's hard not to get excited. Every new adventure is a gift. A treasure. There must be something discovery that makes humans so joyful. I'll accept modifying that last statement to possible includes dogs in the short list of discovery enjoyers. Is 'enjoyers' a word even? Anyway, this is High Falls in Tettegouche State Park.