Low tide at Rye Beach

Had two related conversations today.
Someone this morning asked me why I don't do more landscape photography. I didn't have an answer.
   A different person asked me what I thought made one landscape better than another. [Insert long pregnant pause here.] I didn't have an answer (at least not a good one):
Some landscapes make me feel like immediately packing a bag and booking a flight.
Others make me see a place I've been to in a totally different way. Others make me feel small; not in an insignificant way, but rather as something much, much bigger.

Which took me back to the first question. And made me nervous. Could I evoke any of those feelings in someone else? Or do something else? And if so, what? I have to admit, I'm a little scared. Which isn't such a bad place for someone wanting to really push themselves.


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Ferns under the moonlight

I love ferns. How they wait to be discovered in shady places.
How they look massed together in fields and by the side of streams.
And the way they unfurl. Especially when viewed late at night. Under a brilliant full moon.

Meerkat Melodrama

Trippin' in the garden on Miracle-Gro

After way too much hemming and hawing on my part and and way too much prodding and poking from friends and colleagues, I'm happy to say that a vibrant (to say the least) book of my more colorful flower photography coming soon.

Fabianna, Queen of the Baboons

Fabianna, Queen of the Baboons, giving the man who called himself her Keeper her most provocative look and a slow, deliberate view of her assets; so full, pendulous and scarlet red...

There he was again, with his brilliant sparkling eyes and knowing smile. Taunting her. Teasing her. Each beat of her heart like a primal chant in the villages near her birthplace. She could see the banana he secretly carried, long, ripe and proudly curved; swaying back and forth gently. It made her shudder with anticipation. With each breath, her chest heaved like a bulimic after Thanksgiving dinner...


With sincerest apologies to anyone with an eating or Romance Novel disorder. These are serious issues and should not be made fun of.

Plotting his escape while seething about how much he hates straw.

Give me anything to sleep on...soft grass, fragrant banana tree fronds, luxurious moss, a Hasten's Vividus mattress from Sweden...anything but this friggin' straw.

Finer feathered friends

A series of tests for a large scale project I'm working on.

When photographers go bump in the night

I really must learn to walk a bit more softly. I am (hopelessly) the quintessential bull in a china shop) and this charming fellow clearly did not appreciate it.

Some color for ya