February – the shortest month of the year. However, while we are in the midst of it, it seems to be never ending, lingering on and on, day after gloomy day. Why is that? Have we forgotten that daylight can extend past 5 pm? Or maybe all those seed catalogs that begin arriving in the mail and piling up on the kitchen table make us grow ever more impatient for spring as they taunt us with their glossy rainbows of flowers, fruits and vegetables. 
Reminding us that there are colors other than brown and gray, that the sun can warm the earth enough for green stuff to once again emerge from the currently frozen, barren soil. Whatever causes this annoying phenomenon, I have long ago gotten in the habit of planning in advance for this end of winter funk. Some time in the fall we make plans for a late winter weekend retreat. Not to a sunny tropical destination but to someplace semi-local where we can reaffirm our appreciation for the changing seasons and the beauty that can still be found even in the gloominess of winter’s final months.
This year the destination was the newly constructed lodge at Echo Bluff state park in Eminence, Missouri. The park is in a beautiful area right in the middle of the Ozark National Scenic Riverways and the Mark Twain National Forest. Needless to say, we were very excited to get out in the fresh air and do some hiking and sightseeing.
When we arrived at the lodge, we were greeted by the little band of wild horses that like to hang around the park. I have heard these horses are descendants of once domesticated farm animals that were set free during the Great Depression. They are now protected by law and are maintained by a local organization to prevent the herds from getting larger than 50 animals. When this happens, some of the them are caught so they can be tamed and put up for adoption by local residents, where they rejoin their domestic ancestors. I suppose you could argue that these creatures are really more “feral” then “wild”, but nonetheless there is something rather romantic and nostalgic about the notion of horses roaming freely throughout the countryside. Yet, the bond that was broken nearly 100 years ago may not be quite so fragile and some of these animals still seem to trust us silly humans, at least a little bit. I watched as they approached a group of people starting a campfire and was, of course, inspired to attempt a connection of my own. 
I must admit they look a lot more impressive from a distance. Up close you can see the ravages of surviving in this mountainous Missouri terrain. Their manes and tails are tangled up with burs and leaves and they look like they could really use a full-blown spa day, complete with mani-pedi – unshod horses tend to have some pretty gnarly nails. With freezing rain and ice predicted for the following evening, I couldn’t help but wonder where these poor creatures slept at night.
We were quite a bit luckier, we knew exactly where we would be sleeping. The lodge is a gorgeous new
log and stone structure, cozy and warm with a giant fireplace in a two-story great room and amazing views of its namesake bluff and Sinking Creek. Our room was on the second floor, overlooking the bluff and creek. Despite the impending winter storm, it was an unusually warm evening, so we sat on our little balcony, adult beverage in hand and enjoyed the view as the sun slowly sank in the sky and the horses meandered down the creek, wandering off into the night to wherever it is they go.
The next morning was exploration time and we needed to get an early start so we could be back at the lodge before the inclement weather hit. Sometimes the best trips are the ones with no set plans – you just tend to go wherever the road leads. This trip was no exception to that rule. We started off in the general direction of Rocky Falls for no other reason than I saw a sign and it sounded interesting. Along the way, we saw another sign for Alley Spring. This I had heard of, so we decided to take a brief detour and check it out. All I can say about this place is “WOW”! It was like standing in the middle of a picture 
postcard. It was so amazingly beautiful. You don’t realize how color blind the winter gloom can make you until your eyes are once again acquainted with blue water and green plants. This has got to be the most colorful place that Missouri has to offer in these dark, dank months. A bright red mill, reflected in a pool of naturally blue spring water with lush green plants! There was even a slight mist floating just above the water. It was simply jaw dropping and pictures cannot do it justice. I would love to come back here in the fall to see how the autumn color enhances it even further.
In the winter, daylight is a limited commodity, so we were forced to press on in our unscripted agenda and continue to Rocky Falls. At this point, we realized we were truly “off the grid” because we had lost cell phone coverage and I had to rummage through the litter in the glove box and dust off the paper map of Missouri. This moment always makes me a little elated. I just love having to unfold that darn map and not have to rely on Siri to get us lost. Our misdirection now depended on my navigational prowess and the cartographical accuracy of Rand-McNally. Onward to Rocky Falls!
Rocky Falls was pretty much just that, a rocky waterfall. There was indeed water and rocks and a fall, but it wasn’t running at full strength. Probably much more impressive in the spring when there’s a little more water. We had a short amount of time between other visitors to get in a few pictures, but when a camo-attired horde came roaring up on a dozen or so ATV’s we figured that signaled the end of this particular photo shoot.
Just like that, it was back to the beloved paper map to see what other natural wonders this area had up its sleeve. And there on the map, highlighted and bolded in blue as a “point of interest”, was Blue Spring. What could that be? It must be worth checking out if it was truly a point of interest. So off we drove in search of a blue spring, curving and winding through the back roads of rural Missouri. It was somewhere along this route that I learned how you know when you have actually reached Rural Missouri – it’s the moment when you see a dead, rotting coyote carcass impaled on fence post as a warning to all his pack mates and kin to stay the F*** out of Rural Missouri. Yikes…Doubt there are many PETA sympathizers in these parts.
Blue Spring is another of Missouri’s natural wonders that lives up to its name by virtue of being both blue and a spring. In my experience, many of the springs in Missouri are blue, so what makes this one different? Well the signage is happy to tell you! This is the deepest spring in Missouri (over 300 feet), it 
is so blue that the native Americans called it the “Spring of the Summer Sky” and it discharges 90 million gallons of water a day! It truly is quite an amazing shade of blue. 
On this, the grayest of all winter days, it was the bluest of any spring that has ever sprung. The water is so clear, you can peer straight down into its azure depths, where the blueness seems to increase the deeper you try to stare. Even the fish shimmer like sapphires as they dart about in their beautiful little basin of blue. Definitely another awe-inspiring photo destination to add to the lineup for the Eminence area.
Time always seems to fly when you’re having fun. With no cell phone coverage, an outdated map of Missouri and inclement weather on the radar it was time to follow the trail of dead coyotes back to the sanctuary of the lodge where a special Valentines Day dinner was being prepared.
Later in the evening, after enjoying an overabundance of filet mignon, lobster tail and decadent desserts, we hunkered down by the massive stone fireplace to ride out the storm. As the ice began to tap against the windows, we reflected on the adventures of the day and how, with all the stunning and colorful natural wonders that this beautiful place had to offer, we had gained a whole new perspective on the concept of “winter blues.”
So, as in years past, I eagerly awaited autumn. I spent all of October waiting. At first I waited quite patiently, then I began to worry. November was approaching and still no fall. It wasn’t long before panic set in and I began searching in vain. I looked in all the usual places I look when something is misplaced – the back of the junk drawer, the top shelf in the hall closet, the bottom of my purse. But all I found were rolls of scotch tape, a 2012 Cabela’s catalog and my spare car key. Where the heck was autumn? What happened to the chilly air, the brilliant hues and the crisp fall apples? I trudged through my typical fall routine in hopes of finding it somewhere along the way – walks in the woods, apple picking, unpacking my winter wardrobe, a hayride to the pumpkin patch – but it was nowhere to be found. The woods were still green, the apples were bland, the sweaters were too warm and the pumpkins on my porch had not suffered through a single frost.
Finally, when November arrived there was no time left, the leaves simply had to come off the trees. And off they came, so quickly that I almost missed it. Sometime in the beginning of November, in the blink of an eye, the leaves changed color, dropped to the ground and that was it – it was over.
I managed to catch some of it in bits and pieces, here and there. A brief corridor of gold on a highway in upstate New York. A hike through our Missouri woods where a few brilliant embers still burned in the red of the Sumac leaves and an occasional white tail deer rooted around in the leaf litter, their coats thickening for the colder months ahead. In a last-ditch effort to seek out the remnants of fleeting fall colors, we took a trip down to southern Missouri and bid adieu to the final shades of autumn that were taking refuge in the Mingo swamp.
sunny day in Rochester, NY. I long to stop and stand there, basking in the refracted rays of the sun, soaking up some of that essential vitamin D. But the rational being in me doesn’t want to look like too much of an idiot and thoughts of a bottle of Copper Tone, a Pina Colada and a beach chair are gone just as quickly as they came. Like a dutiful little drone, I shuffle on back to my own desk, suffered to toiling away in this bleak “Dickensian” environment for another 8-10 hours. 
in the weather was beautiful, sunny and warm – the only difference was that this was the weekend and it belonged to me. 
lumbering from flower to flower, their legs coated with yellow pollen, gathering as much as possible to join the other drones stashing it away into the hundreds of little octagonal cubicles that make up their hive.
As far as the flowers were concerned, the bee and butterfly were accomplishing the same task, bu
t their approaches couldn’t be more different. I was struck by the dichotomy of lifestyle in such close proximity.
Such are the lives of these little creatures – stuck in the one circumstance they are born into.
As much as there will always be a special place in my heart for the joy of shooting film, I realized I had learned another important lesson. Going back to basics does not always go hand in hand with going green, or saving green for that matter. Aside from the obvious toll on your wallet, old school photography also involves harsh chemicals and by products that need to be safely disposed of. Digital photography has none of these adverse side effects. Now I know I can remain true to my photography roots without poisoning the earth in the process. Despite all the hi-tech bells and whistles, digital photography and online editing are definitely the greener alternative. 
I never paid much attention to these little guys before, unless I was scratching at their bites, being annoyed by their buzzes or trying to outrun their stingers. Then I got a macro lens. The idea was to do super close up shots of pretty things, like flowers. As I started playing around with it, I was trying to focus on the cutest tiniest little flower ever, when suddenly an even tinier bug crawled up and sat down right on top of the flower. It was amazing to see something so tiny, so close up.
For the past couple weeks, I have been learning to look more closely at their delicate little world. At first glance they seemed so much different from us, but are they really? Just like us they eat, sleep, multiply and eventually die. They are such an important part of the circle of life. They pollinate our gardens, fertilize the soil and provide food for the animals that we eat. We simply cannot survive without them.
So the next time you walk out your door, take a few minutes to look more closely at the world that surrounds you. Stop and smell the flowers, breathe in the fresh air and remember to be thankful for the little things in life.
African savanna or the Arctic tundra in the center of a Midwestern city. But try they must. 
The animals are there and there’s nowhere else for most of them to go. Like it or not, these animals have been born and bred in captivity for generations and would not stand a chance among their unfettered counterparts in the wild. 
et some of these animals do serve a purpose. In this world there are species on the verge of extinction through no fault of their own. Many animals are still hunted and killed for nothing more than a body part coveted as a souvenir or trophy, or simply because they are considered to be a nuisance. While people are becoming more aware and more humane, the poachers and the black markets still exist for a few of the more unenlightened, cruel and disgraceful members of our species. For those of us who do care, these animals can be studied and bred in captivity in the hope that someday, in a more perfect world, they will be free to live their lives as nature intended and not be subject to the risk of being penned up or shot down. 
attraction and a typical family haunt during summer vacations. A couple weeks ago, we made a trip to the St. Louis zoo to observe and photograph some of the animals in residence there. This is one of the zoos that is constantly trying to improve the habitats and make the animals feel at least a little more at home. In general, I like to spend some time observing each animal and trying to capture their activities 
and emotions. Since it was spring and many of the birds were actively breeding, my main focus this time was going to be the free flight bird house. However, the bird house is in the back of the zoo and I had to walk past many exhibits to get there and I got a little side tracked along the way, mostly by gorillas, flamingos and prairie dogs. 
amiss; something is not quite right. Call it melancholy, homesickness or the internal realization of a grave injustice. This world that they were born into is not the one where they belong. They sense the limitations of their confines, the inability to choose their own mates, hunt their own food and keep a safe distance from predators – namely humans. Some seem angry, some look sad or confused and others seem to be pleading with their eyes for a reprieve. Their freedom has been sacrificed for our Saturday afternoon enjoyment. 
Why should the inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness be limited to human beings alone? Shouldn’t these rights be extended to all of the earth’s creatures? It seems to me that in our own pursuits there are many ways in which we have taken it upon ourselves to surrender these rights on their behalf. For those of us who recognize the injustice, there are still many others who prefer to put their efforts into justifying and rationalizing their own selfish behavior. Nevertheless, there will come a time in the future when the earth as a whole will have to pay the cost of captivity. 
Although photographing animals can be difficult, it also can be very rewarding. We have all seen those portraits of animals that make you stop dead in your tracks and say “Wow!” Something is so compelling that you just can’t take your eyes away. And often, it’s the eyes that draw us in. If we are given the opportunity to look into their eyes, we can begin to see the very essence of their soul. There’s no underlying agenda, no lies or deceit; they live the most basic of lives.
er than we would in the wild, how do we know what they are thinking and feeling? Whenever we have our cameras out, we spend more time studying our subject waiting for the right moment. We are still, we are quiet, we let our guard down and maybe, just for an instant, our eyes meet and there’s a mutual sense of kinship and respect. All it takes is the release of the shutter at just the right moment, a fraction of a second, and with luck we will capture their unique inner beauty.
s. As is usual, instead of taking notes I took pictures. These fishermen don’t need a trolling motor, spinners, lures or flies. They rely solely on their long legs, keen eye and quick reflexes. Without the aid of a tackle box or a trip to Bass Pro Shop, they pluck fish out of the water as 
easily as I pluck Doritos out of a bag. 
pond, flying back to their nests to contemplate and strategize their next maneuvers in the courtship dance. We decided it was time for us to fly, too. But, like the Herons and the sportsmen, we’ll soon be back to try our luck at the fishing hole. Although I plan on getting my catch of the day with the snap of a shutter rather than the cast of a pole. Forever in pursuit of the one that got away.
My beautiful Magnolia tree had been in full bloom and now its fragile flowers were drooping under a layer of sloppy wet snow. The Bradford pears, daffodils, forsythias and pussy willows – blooming much too early than seemed nec
essary – here they were, now trying to hold up under the weight of a fresh coating of heavy spring snow. With plans of doing yard work this afternoon, I too was feeling a little under the weather. 
The Last One Home 