I was born in northern California, and have enjoyed being in nature as long as I remember. My grandparents took notice, and they gifted me annual subscriptions to National Wildlife magazine after my family moved to the northern Plains. Photography became my passion in 1981, when I took a basic photography course as part of a Graphic Arts major. In my twenties, I bought a Nikon 35mm film camera and began to explore the scenic areas of North Dakota and Montana. Prior to raising my family, I worked for a photo studio for several years.
Then I took on the rewarding but demanding jobs of fatherhood and managing my dad’s print shop, and I let my Nikon gather dust for 15 years. It seemed my soul gradually began gathering dust as well. But like many of us, I failed to notice, for the process was subtle.
Hiking on the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park, with my son (left), my brother (center), and my niece (seated, at front).
At first—by staying “busy, busy, busy” repairing the office computers, printing equipment, and our neighbors’ leaking pipes—I could drown out the occasional “gut feeling” that nothing I was doing at work was making me happy. Those closest to me, aware that I once enjoyed playing the piano and was passionate about outdoor photography, would ask me if I’d ever take time for myself to do those things again. That would jolt me out of my comfort zone for a moment—but after that moment, I’d answer with a regretful smile: “Maybe when I retire...”
My attitude was soon challenged by a few tumultuous life events, and inspired by healthier thoughts. At about that time, Mel Gibson, channeling William Wallace in Braveheart, said: “Everyone dies. Not everyone really lives.” Talk about food for thought!
In 2006, I blew the dust of my old camera, sold it to a fellow photographer, and bought my first digital camera.
By lucky coincidence, digital media was expanding everyone’s imagination in a way film couldn’t. Mobile phone cameras and the Internet have made it possible for everyone to share what they imagine, in ways I couldn’t imagine back when I first picked up a camera in the 1900s!
As soon as summer wildflowers made their appearance in 2006, I began exploring the back roads of the Little Missouri National Grasslands every weekend. After 15 years, I was once again capturing images of the beauty of our land—and ever since then, it’s been my pleasure to share them with you on these pages.
Time has passed. So has my dear old Dad, and his printing business.
I moved to central Florida some years ago, to be closer to the rest of my family. I still make my living by repairing things—but I travel to scenic places as often as I can, to discover and to share the beauty of this great country of ours.
Not long after moving to southwest Orange County in 2021, I discovered Horizon West Regional Park, a 200-acre natural space administered by Orange County Parks and Rec. Since then, I’ve had the pleasure of doing volunteer trail maintenance / trail mapping, sharing photos of the park’s wildlife and natural beauty on Facebook, and making new friends on the trail. Although the park’s urban amenities receive the most attention, its greatest value may be as a place where one can turn down the mind’s volume control for a little while. The older I get, the more I value inner stillness. Besides the obvious health benefits, a quiet mind tends to notice small wildlife, and other things that I’d otherwise miss entirely!
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