Life Captured - Photography Blog

RAW vs JPG – Understanding these two common files types.

2011-10-27T15:39:00.000-07:00

There is a seemingly endless debate on the internet, on photography sites and forums as to which is better… shooting RAW or JPG format photos. It’s starting to resemble the age old question of which came first, the chicken or the egg. While we may never know the answer to the chicken/egg debate (and why one crossed the road) understanding the basics behind the two file types are key to understanding digital photography/imaging and deciding which is best for you. Now some of you reading this may be totally in the dark about what a raw image file is. And for many of you that isn’t even an option on your camera. But even if your camera only allows you to ‘capture’ JPG images, understanding what that file type is and how your camera settings affect it, may help you take better pictures.

Today digital cameras come in all shapes and sizes. I even was recently visiting family and saw a commercial on TV about a camera for toddlers that even after being dropped down a flight of stairs was still fully operational; which would not be the case with mine… trust me I know. And one of the biggest buzz words in regards to digital cameras is Megapixels, how many of those teeny tiny sensors are on the device you are using to take a picture. While the number of pixels is important, the onboard circuitry and file type also play important roles in the difference in quality of the final image. So what is a RAW image?

A RAW image file is the equivalent of a 35mm (film) negative. Now each camera manufacturer does have their own version of a RAW image file; Nikon (NEF), Canon (CR2), Pentax (PEF), Sony (SR2) and so on and so on, as there is no standardized file format. When you press the shutter it records all the available information that the camera is designed to without discarding or compressing any of the data being collected. Each pixel records an amount of luminosity and translates that into color using what is know as the Bayer Filter (a matrix of blue, red and green colors). At the time the picture is taken the camera is also writing to the photo’s file information known as Metadata. This Metadata includes the camera model, date and time, camera settings (exposure, ISO, white balance, focal length and shutter speed to name a few) and even GPS on some cameras. With a RAW image all of this information is what is being saved to your memory card… hence the large file size. JPGs are preferred by some people because of file size alone and that more of them can be stored on a memory card. Why are JPGs smaller?

With JPG, or JPEG (Joint Photographic Experts Group – the committee that standardized the file type) images the initial stages are identical. In fact even if your camera doesn’t allow you to save in JPG format it is still capturing the image in the same way. But the difference is that while a RAW image retains all the luminosity recorded per pixel, a JPG (using algorithms (calculations made by your camera)) determines the most prominent color of the three (red, blue, green) and records the levels of only that color. In RAW format the files retains the information for all three colors per pixel. Another important factor is also the file structure type. Without getting too complicated a RAW image is a 12- to 14-bit image, whereas a JPG is an 8-bit image. So your camera (based on the settings you have made) is discarding some information and compressing the rest. What does this mean to you? Well the smaller more compressed files loose a lot of the fine details of a photo and sometimes inaccurate colors.

Now some people will argue that their JPG images are just fine, in fact look much better than RAW if they are shot simultaneously, which a lot of cameras allow. But you have to take into consideration what those files are. Again a RAW image is a digital negative, where a JPG is what your camera has determined the image should look like according to the settings at the time the picture was taken.

The above image is a screen shot of a mountain top in Colorado taken with my Nikon DSLR camera, in ‘NEF+JPG’ mode. The camera wrote two image files to my memory card after only pressing the shutter once for this scene. While the JPG image clearly shows the cameras white balance and color settings, the NEF reverts the image back to its truest (digital negative) version.

One of the advantages of taking a RAW image (which is what I only shoot) is the ability to manipulate the photo in post editing. For most my photos, if I had the correct white balance, color saturation and other in camera settings correct for the shot) just simply saving the image to a JPG format is all I need to do. But on occasion I’ll have missed a setting, exposed the image wrong, or if I’m looking to digitally enhance the photo a RAW file is better to work with since all the information that was collected at the time I pressed the shutter is still available. If you shoot an image in JPG say with high contrast settings or increased color saturation; and once you get that image up onto a full size screen and realize you don’t like the outcome, it can be extremely difficult if not impossible to go back and fix the image. Even if you work on a RAW image, your program is saving your changes as a separate file… so you can always return the image to it’s original state if you make a “whoops.”

Photography programs, such as Photoshop, these days do allow you to change exposure, saturation, temperature, etc. on JPG files (using sometimes complicated conversions) but again you are only changing what was recorded in the original file based on the settings at the time. With a RAW image your changes are more detailed and exact in post editing, and you retain many of the details of the photo. You also can get artifacting in JPGs, which is the distortion you see sometimes in lines on a photograph where it will resemble the exterior of an Egyptian pyramid. Some of the information I change in editing RAW files aren’t available in JPGs. For example… my dogs are often with me when out taking photos, and white balance and ISO are two settings that I change quite frequently. Say I’m out shooting a landscape sunset and suddenly a Bull Elk emerges from the forest behind me. Before I know it two dogs are going usually in two separate directions and as I suddenly find myself being tangled up in their leashes, the last thing I’m thinking about are camera settings before the Elk runs off into the distance. Shooting in RAW allows me to go back into the file and adjust those fine details to produce the perfect image. No, I still haven’t learned my lesson and just leave the dogs at home.

Aside from file size, the amount of time in post editing work can be another drawback to shooting in RAW format. But with today’s software there are ways to batch convert those images to JPG format as well as apply similar adjustments to a series of photos in batch processing as well. This for me is a huge time saver. For my landscape photography I examine each photo individually, but when I shoot sporting events, those batch processing options can be set and the process can run all on its own while I can be doing something else.

So is one file format better than the other? Well that is up to you!

Tin Roof Rusted...

2011-10-25T16:59:00.000-07:00

With all the photos I took this summer, I occasionally forget one or two that were side shots taken at events or during my travels. Case in point this photo, a rusted metal roof of an old barn that I shot while shooting a wedding this summer in Beaver Creek, Colorado. I was already done with the wedding and this old barn was adjacent to the parking lot. Of course, certain lighting always catches my eye; add to that great colors and cool textures.

So in discovering this photo on my hard drive while sorting and organizing the lyrics from a B52's song came to mind. But to backtrack for a second I didn't know the meaning of the term "Tin Roof Rusted" until I just researched it for this blog. Now I know.

This photo can be seen full size in my Abtracts Photo Gallery here.

Weekly Feature, Oct 24 - 40% off regular price.

2011-10-24T10:28:00.000-07:00

So I was going to hold off on this until my November newsletter, but with so many images I decided not to wait. So here it is... the Weekly Featured Print at 40% off its normal price.

Looming storm in the Valley of the Gods.

This week's featured photo is from the Valley of the Gods in Utah. I was on my way to joining some family for a backpacking excursion in The Grand Canyon. I had mapped out a way to get there, but failed to look at what I'd be passing along my way. Much to my surprise, as I was traveling west on a highway through the Painted Desert, I crested a ridge and suddenly the landscape made some drastic changes. My first pass was somewhat short as not only was I on a time crunch but there was also a luminous storm on the horizon; and I'm not one for being out too long in the rain with a camera. While I didn't get many photographic opportunities that day I made sure that on my return I'd spend some more time and explore this area a little more. And I did... and what a day it was.

So if you have an empty space on a wall, or even looking to give a friend or family member a unique gift, take this opportunity to get this print for 40% off. Use the Weekly Feature ordering system here... this deal expires at 4:00 pm MST. If you have any questions, feel free to email me here. Free Shipping on orders over $50.00.

This little piggy... went to [Farmers] Market

2011-10-19T11:06:00.000-07:00

Every time I think 'market' that song from my chilhood comes to mind. Not sure if it's my Irish heritage and my love of Corned Beef and Cabbage or what. But I do love going to local Farmers Markets, and I've had the opporunity to go to a lot of them in the last few months.

Nothing beats fresh ingredients when cooking, that's for sure. And farm fresh produce certainly has bolder flavors than some of the mass produced foods we find in our grocery stores. I was even introduced to a few items I'd never heard before like ground cherries, a small fruit that is the cross between cherries and tomatos. And then there was this leafy green one farmer had me try that was in the spinach family. But once I popped a sample in my mouth the green leaf began to transition into this slimy substance. Of course when I said that I was corrected by the farmer who preferred I used the word 'gelatinous' to describe her crop. Needless to say we passed on that one. One of my favorite finds was the most amazing blueberries I've ever tasted from a family of Menonite farmers in the Lake Mattamaskeet area of North Carolina. I had to mentally slap my hand from taking any more samples and my family ended up buying an entire flat. Needless to say, for the next week just about everything we made had blueberries in it.

But as a photographer Farmers Markets are an explosion of colors and textures; fun conversations with the growers themselves and even a place to meet some of your neighbors and share some cooking ideas. Tomatoes of every shape and size, colorful arrays of hybrid flowers and even fresh oats that were rolled right there on the spot.

But probably the best thing these fresh markets is supporting your own communtity, or the one you're visiting. For some reason, that big family meal at the end of the day tastes just that muh better when you've had the experience of being at the Farmers Market early that morning to pick out something truly unique.

Valley of the Gods, Utah

2011-06-04T16:36:00.000-07:00

I actually ‘stumbled’ upon this area while en route to meet up with some family for a backpacking excursion through The Grand Canyon. Just outside of Bluff, Utah on Hwy 191/163 the road ascends up over a ridge and drops back down into a valley that is truly awe inspiring. I tell people all the time that even the best photographers’ images never do justice to the landscape of this region of the country.

Lucky for me it was a stormy spring day and the clouds only let the suns’ rays pierce their way through on occasion, making for some pretty dramatic landscapes. The winds roared through the valley with sounds I’ve never heard before and really don’t know how to even describe, but I knew after hearing it how the valley got its name.

There is a 17 mile dirt road (FR 242) that connects Hwy 163 and UT 261. Not sure how long this loops takes most people, being a photographer and making numerous stops it took me over 4 hours. I managed in an all wheel drive sedan, but depending on the season and the amount of water across some of the roads something with a little more ground clearance is recommended.

Sometimes the best things in life are those that we never expect. The entire Valley of the Gods gallery can been seen here.

Fine Art Giclee 3 Square Triptych

2011-06-01T16:48:00.000-07:00

Looking for something unique to brighten up one of the walls in your home or office?

Here's an idea combining a little contemporary creativity with some classic images of nature.

For this Square Triptych I've chose three macro images of Aspen Bark from my Elements of Nature gallery and put them together in a package of three 12" x 12" square giclee 1 1/2" border wrap prints.

Each print has either a sawtooth hanger (with bumpers and paper backing) or wire hanger (with bumpers, without paper backing) and can be finished with a lustre or glossy finish for protection.

Regularly priced at $325.00... this month as my featured product I'm offering it at $250.00 with free shipping.

Images, of course can be changed out with any image I offer on my site.

If your have any question please contact me here.

Mother Nature's Wrath...

2011-05-24T13:43:00.001-07:00

Most of the country is hearing about the flooding, tornadoes and other extreme weather that spring is bringing. Last Saturday The New York Times published an article from here in Steamboat Springs concerning the record breaking winter, snow-packs and what that means for those of us that live in the lower populated areas.

This Memorial Day weekend means changing plans last minute for a lot of travelers as many campground and hiking trails are still closed and lakes remain frozen.

These photos are from the Routt National Forest... where yesterday's creeks are today's roaring rivers.

And the snow tires are still on because...

2011-05-22T12:16:00.000-07:00

I was actually expecting not only a little bit nicer weather, but also that more places would be open already.

But the record breaking snow-packs and continuing winter-like weather had the last say in yesterday's little adventure.

Dear Spring...

2011-05-19T12:47:00.000-07:00

... where did you go?

The trees are beginning to bud and leaf out, I know I heard the birds chirping the other day and we are over half way through May. You showed your face the other day and I was happy to get out and enjoy the nice weather you brought.

Please come back!

Winter's grasp.

2011-05-12T23:42:00.000-07:00

There's a saying in Colorado about the weather; if you don't like it just wait a few minutes and it will change. And there's no better place to witness this than in the mountains. Heck, even going through Eisenhower tunnel (where the continental divide is) it can be bright and sunny on one side and dumping snow on the other.The snow's been coming down since last September, and the record setting snow packs in the mountains is a testament to just how much of it we've gotten. But from what I hear it's spring.
The critters have been down feeding on the ridge behind where I live, and by critters I mean the herds of elk led by 8 point bulls and the three coyotes that I woke up to one morning while they took down a smaller animal outside my bedroom window. But while the rivers are running faster by the day and the wildflowers are starting to emerge from beneath winter's blanket it's like riding on a ping pong ball weather wise with winter at one end of the table while spring smacks us back and forth.

On top of the World

2011-05-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

Humans have inhabited the area for well over ten thousand years when the large glaciers began to receded shaping the landscape of what is today known as Rocky Mountain National Park. In 1915 President Woodrow Wilson signed the Rocky Mountain National Park Act, giving birth to the park that sees more yearly visitors than any other park in Colorado.

In 1929 acts passed by government to give the unemployed jobs lead to the paving of Trail Ridge Road, replacing the narrow and treacherous Fall River Road that had become insufficient for the the increasing number our guests the park was receiving. Unlike Yellowstone and Glacier, Rocky Mountain National park has never been serviced by train and has always remained a destination of the automobile tourist.

From scenic drives (eight miles of road over eleven thousand feet) to activities for the most hardcore outdoor adventurists the park with over sixty mountains over twelve thousand feet in elevation truly has something for all.

Colorado Explored – Golden Loop & Phantom Canyon

2011-04-21T14:55:00.000-07:00

On the coat tails of last week’s blog about Cripple Creek and Victor this week is more about the area just south of Victor. This route, Hwy 67, is part of the entire Golden Loop Parkway that takes your on a scenic tour of the area, visiting everything from modern day mining facilities to ghost towns from the days of the Gold Rush.

There are several roads you can loop around through but the most fascinating to me is Hwy 67 south of Victor through Phantom Canyon. Portions of this road were first built in the late 1800’s and used by people of the time to transport goods and mainly gold to the regions south of the Cripple Creek and Victor areas. In fact two main railroad companies of the day used Phantom Canyon to move some of the 21 million ounces (more than the California and Alaska gold rushes combined) of gold from the Cripple Creek and Victor mines to the city of Florence (south of the canyon).

Depending on when you travel to this area and weather it might be wise to have a truck or at least something with more ground clearance than an all wheel drive sports sedan. I’ve made the trip several times in my car, but there were other times where roads were rutted out and washed through due to water coming down the canyon from heavy rains or snow. It is a very narrow dirt road for the most part and there will be areas you will wish and hope that no one is coming at your from the opposite direction. But the scenery, plants and flowers and wildlife are amazing. Throughout the canyon the road has an elevation change of 4000 feet and signs along the road depict old towns in the canyon from the mining days.

Take your camera, pack a lunch and enjoy the drive!

Colorado Explored – Cripple Creek/Victor

2011-04-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

Colorado’s history is full of tales of the Wild West, explorations of Lewis and Clark and Zebulon Pike and the Gold Rush of the 1800’s. Some of the oldest towns still exist today; though many are now ghost towns, others struggle to keep their communities afloat introducing gambling and casinos to bring tourism to their flailing economies. In its hay day the towns of Cripple Creek and Victor drew prospectors far and wide for the wealth of minerals that were being mined from the mountains. In fact the mines of these two towns produced more gold than the others around the state combined. I have family who bought a home up in the area north of town a few years ago, so I’ve gotten the chance to spend quite a bit of time exploring this area.

Today, situated to the west of Pike’s Peak Victor is a borderline ghost town with very few inhabitants and remnant structures and equipment from the height of the town’s existence. The main drag is pretty run down with store fronts literally falling apart, there are even curtains flapping in the wind from broken panes of glass in one building. I’ve though heard that the hotel (there really is only one) the Victor Hotel is quite nice if you’re looking for a place to stay while exploring the area. There are only one or two restaurants in town, and the only other items of interest for me were the old thrift stores. The store on the northeast side of Victor was full of items from the gold mining era, in fact most of the items in her store were from estate sales of some of the older homes in the region. Old wooden doors and mantles, glass bottles of various shapes and sizes, antique appliances and silver plated flatware and a box of original sheet music from the early 1900’s spilled into the isles of the store and really took me back in time as the old wooden floor planks creaked below each footstep. I’m not normally into these sort of things but it was an interesting glimpse back in time. There still is an existing mine east of Victor that I’ve visited, but being a nature kind of guy to me it was just a big (and I mean big) ‘ole hole in the ground. There are several old structures near the base of the mine but we were asked the day I was there to exit the park to a certain area because they were blasting, and it was just too cold to stick around for very long.

Slightly to the north, Cripple Creek’s main drag is bustling with casinos full of people ironically still hoping to strike it rich. While I’m not one for the sounds of the clamoring slot machines this area has a wealth of historical information and a lot of sight seeing. At the east end of town is the Cripple Creek District Museum. The multiple floors of this old building showcase a lot of old mining equipment and several ‘showrooms’ of period furniture and décor from the gold rush era. There is even a ghost, so they say, that walks the halls of the museum. On the front exterior walls of most the buildings downtown are plaques that tell the story of the former owners or inhabitants of those buildings. Knowing one of the Charles L. Tutt descendants that particular building is of interest to me as well as the story of Adolph Coors and how he got his start in this town in another one of the historic brick buildings. I always stop in the Cripple Creek Candy Store for some chocolates and fudge and am taken back in time with some of the candies they sell popular amongst older generations. Owners Pat and her husband Lou have seen me in there enough that they always give me a break on the chocolate raspberry sticks that I buy for my mom when I’m visiting. There are a few stores on the main drag, such as Creations Everlasting (if your in there tell Edy I said hello), that sell antique furnishings, clothing and other treasures of Colorado’s history. Some of the old homes and churches of Cripple Creek date back to the 1800’s…well those that weren’t destroyed in the great fire of 1896. On the west end of downtown you’ll find the Mt Pisgah Cemetery with headstones dating back to the 1800’s as well, but with a large number of the residents there being children and some gravesites sunken in it’s a bit on the eerie side.

The area is a cool day trip, and I’ll get to some of the more scenic stuff next. But bring a picnic lunch, because if you’re looking for a great restaurant in the area, you really won’t find one. To get to Cripple Creek, take Hwy 24 out of Colorado Springs to Divide, Colorado (don’t blink or you’ll miss it). Hwy 67 goes south from Divide to Cripple Creek… and further on to Victor. Also, Teller County isn’t the most hospitable towards dogs, so you might want to leave them at home.

Alpenglow

2011-04-13T13:26:00.000-07:00

I thought it might be important to explain the term Alpenglow, if your not familiar with what it is. The color in the photos is completely natural, so no photo-shopping was done to get the pink color nor did I use any special filters.

When the sun sets below the horizon rays of light can be reflected off airborne water particles (snow and ice included) in the atmosphere and create a pink to red hue in the sky. Often in Winter, especially here in the Colorado mountains, snow picks up the color and creates this amazing optical phenomenon.

This is also known as the Golden Hour for photographers or the Belt of Venus.

Road trippin’: Kansas Explored

2011-04-03T13:23:00.000-07:00


I-70 through West Kansas

When they chose the land years ago along which they would eventually pave Interstate 70 through West Kansas they did an incredibly good job of picking the flattest most uninteresting part of that state. My travels the last few years have taken me from Colorado to the East Coast several times (usually by car so the dogs can join me)… and well there was that whole moving thing… and trying to stay awake on I-70 west of Salina Kansas is a chore even if you’ve just woken up from a good nights sleep and are all hopped up on caffeine from that morning cup of joe. Even having books on tape (I don’t suggest Hemingway’s Short Stories) is difficult in helping pass the time. Sure there are the prehistoric looking turbines on the wind farms, the world’s largest prairie dog (extremely disappointing) and the countless signs for Rattlesnake Jewelry along the roadside but let’s face it West Kansas can be about as boring as it gets.

Tallgrass National Prairie Preserve

On my last venture west from a visit to see family in North Carolina I stopped in Kansas City to catch up with a friend and break the monotony of the drive. The next morning I got out my road map and decided to venture into the heart of the state once I got bored with the Interstate and hit the city of Emporia. Surely there was more to see in this state and I was hoping Hwy 50 would take me someplace new.

Tallgrass National Prairie Preserve

Signs depicted this stretch of road as a scenic byway and also advertised an am radio station you could tune in to for information on the area. Quarries in this area drove the economy long ago and even a distinct style of Limestone Brick was born from this region and used as an architectural element that still resonates in structures being built today. It wasn’t long before I came up on Strong City in Chase County and with the direction of signs hit my right turn signal and headed north on 177.

Spring Hill Ranch

A few miles north I found myself at the Spring Hill Ranch on the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve. The gently rolling landscape of the Flint Hills where covered in grass and clouds of tens of thousands of small birds seemingly bounced off the horizon and into the blue sky. To the northwest I spotted a bright red steeply pitched French style roof that umbrella’s a three story Second Empire style ranch house built in 1881 from native stones. Since it was off season for the visitor’s center I got to explore the house and its matching barn and outhouses with out interferences aside from the whining dogs in the backseat of the car which I did let out once I knew the coast was clear. There were a few signs to tell me a bit about the ranch that was founded by a Texas cattle rancher in the 1870’s, but most of the story was left to my own interpretation. I’m not sure you could consider this a destination attraction for family trips, but it turns out there is actually some cool stuff to see in Kansas if you’re willing to get off the beaten path.

Spring Hill Ranch

Photo of the week: March 07, 2011

2011-03-07T14:09:00.000-08:00

Sometimes in life a journey will lead you in unexpected directions, and this couldn't be further from the truth for me. I have a tendency to veer off the main road just to see what's out there, and I never find myself disappointed. While driving through Utah, the end of my destination about a day away, I stumbled upon truly one of the most spectacular places one could ever see. It was a late winter day where storms still rushed across the terrain and snow was still falling at higher elevations. Mother Nature was in a mood where she allowed only the occasional ray of sunlight through the thick layers of clouds that hung from the sky above me. But I will never forget driving along 163 when suddenly appearing before me was the sprawling landscape littered with the rock formations of the Valley of the Gods. When I got out of the car I just stood there in amazement as I looked around me at the sandstone buttes that years of erosion have created. Not a whistle, roar or a howl the winds rushed through the valley and made this sound that was equally amazing to the visuals before me. When I had planned out this trip to The Grand Canyon I never researched more than what I was going to need to the backpacking trip in my plans. This was certainly a more than welcome surprise.

Photo 365: Life of a ski bum... so far.

2011-03-03T11:30:00.000-08:00

So catching up this blog on my project 'photo 365'...

I've been called a 'ski bum' by many this winter, and while at first I was offended I've learned the term has a broader spectrum of meaning than what I first thought. It had been my dream for years to at least spend one winter at a ski resort. Finally that life long dream has come true and I couldn't have picked a better place than Ski Town U.S.A. I had also thought that a winter in the mountains would allow be to catch up on various projects that I've been working on or always wanted to do. However, the more it snows the more I want to get out and enjoy the powder that Steamboat is known for. Here's just a few glimpses into the life of a ski bum. To see the entire Photo 365 project click here.

Jan 16... Fine tuning.

Jan 10, 2011

'No Valet'

Today was the first in the Diamond Cup Series, where divisions of Steamboat employees race (ski patrol vs lifties vs race crew vs ski school) against each other.

Jan 14, 2011

Friday's routine.

Jan 13, 2011

Early mornings on the Gondy.

Feb 08, 2011

Another day at the office (of sorts).

Feb 05, 2011

Lunch in the Thunderhead Lodge.

Jan 20, 2011

"In the Glades"

For those not familiar with the term "Bluebird Day" today was an great example. Lots of fresh snow... blue skies. Took the camera with me today... this shot from skiing the glades here in Steamboat.

Feb 11, 2011

On your mark...

Photo 365: Jan 06-09

2011-01-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

Jan 06, 2011

A little reminder of the kindness in people... and that i need to check my p.o. box more often.

Jan 07, 2011

"Right this way"

Accumulation of snow that has been plowed off the sidewalks in downtown Steamboat.

Jan 08, 2011

Eggs for breakfast, long day of work editing and marketing ahead.

Jan 09, 2011

with 18" of fresh powder (much deeper in some areas I know) Sunday was all about some Champagne Powder therapy!

Photo 365 Project: Jan 01-05

2011-01-08T10:18:00.000-08:00

So one of my New Year's resolutions was to, after all the other photographers I've seen do this, start my own daily photo project. This has many advantages both to my self and you my fans. So here goes...

Jan 01- "First Tracks," Even though the plows seem to run around the clock here this time of year when the heavy snows settle into the valley, and inch or two is no cause for alarm on the side streets. As tempting as it is, every day, I thought a day indoors was in order… after a few errands that is. Snow and ice covered roads are a familiar sight, impressions of travelers left behind.

Jan 02- "This seat's taken," It's that time of year when the patio is used more for measuring snow accumulation than anything else

Jan 03 - I was hoping to get out and ski for at least a few hours today, but just didn't happen. Photo editing, emails, updating marketing materials... it made for more time with my hands in contact with the keyboard than my feet in contact with the skis.

Jan 04 - I was driving through one of the neighborhoods in Steamboat today and ran across this hydrant. It's important to not that this hydrants is on a 3 foot extension, and a pole is in the ground behind it so that plows don't accidentally runs into it when the snow gets deep... er, deeper.

Jan 05 - "Ah, Chute!"

I got up extra early so I could hit the slopes for a bit today (fyi... cinnamon is much better in oatmeal than chili powder!). Took the big boy camera out today, and hit the big boy runs.

Beauty amidst devastation

2010-10-01T21:20:00.000-07:00

I've been through the Flat Tops Wilderness of Colorado a few times in the last week to chase down the fall colors. Once highly active with volcanic events the land in areas was pushed upwards by the colliding continental plates, then carved out by the glaciers of the Ice Age. The scenic road through the Flat Tops is everything it claims and then some. Home to one of the largest Elk herds of North America this area is nothing short of spectacular. But if you've been to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado in the last several years you've seen the catastrophic effects of the drought and the Mountain Pine Beetle on the Lodgepole Pine Tree. Some areas have been left untouched while others have been devastated. Douglas Fir and Aspen still flourish in these areas and within the acres of dead trees a new forest IS emerging. Will it take time? Yes. But why turn your back, enjoy it now and I can only imagine what these forests will look like in a few years.

Autumn's approach

2010-09-22T18:07:00.000-07:00

It's felt like fall off and on the last few weeks and today marks the first official day of the season. There have been days I had to break out the winter clothes... turn on the heat... and I'm back into my winter cooking of hearty meals and slow coked soups. I first saw the touch of autumn in the aspen leaves three weeks ago. Now the colors of fall blanket the surrounding mountains and tonight they are predicting snow! I know a few friends that are not ready for this yet... but I'm so ready for fall and for ski season to begin.

The RiNo

2010-08-31T18:36:00.000-07:00

I was down in Denver the end of last week for a corporate photo shoot and staying with dear friends. On Saturday we took a little excursion to the new up and coming RiNo District in Denver. I've gotten so used to the landscapes and wildlife photos that I've been taking lately that I had forgotten how much I enjoy taking more artistic photos. And Stomping around the RiNo was lots of fun with Kelly and Ed... thanks!

Change is in the air...

2010-08-20T17:57:00.001-07:00

A week to check things out has turned into an entire summer. Okay, well it isn't fall yet, but the temperatures have cooled off and yeterday I noticed the color yellow creeping into the aspen leaves. Steamboat can keep you busy with all the activities that are constantly going on through the summer months. From the Rodeo to Wine festivals to concerts in the park or just hanging out in the river cooling off... there's always something to do. Oh, and of course that whole trying to make a living thing too! I certainly have fallen in love with this place and am anxious to see where the next season takes me.

Celebration of a Country

2010-07-06T20:51:00.000-07:00

It seemed to come and go like the book "And to Think I Saw It On Mayberry Street" by Dr Seuss. A weekend full of plans... from good wine and food... the Cowboy Roundup rodeo... to the parade led my some of Steamboat Springs founding families. July fourth really struck a nerve when the four F-16 jets flew over town as hundreds lined main street and I later took in the fireworks while on the bank of the Yampa River. Hard to believe two years ago I was in a city of six million, and now I appreciate life and where I'm at even more in a population of under ten thousand!

neglected... but for a good reason.

2010-06-03T08:39:00.000-07:00

This poor blog... I was looking at my last entry here and it was about the time I left corporate america last fall and ventured out on my own. I've never worked so hard in my life, but taking my passions in photography and wine make the hard work seems that much easier. The Colorado Wineaux is now up and running for my independent wine consulting business as well as a Facebook and a Twitter page... so I can be followed no matter what im doing there as well. more to come soon!

Autumn is knocking

2009-09-12T12:19:00.001-07:00

This morning is a sure sign that fall and winter are just around the corner. Temperatures have dropped and the sky is masked by clouds of blue and grey, the colors seemingly weaved together. The windows have been open for the last few weeks (one of the great things about Colorado this time of year) and today there is a certain chill in the air that is beckoning some old blues from the likes of Billie Holiday and Dinah Washington. The dogs after their morning reprieve even returned inside and curled up on their beds instead of sitting on the deck and keeping watch over the neighborhood. It's a rather dreary day with the feeling as if mother nature is mourning the passing of summer. Today's the perfect opportunity though to get things done around the house, knowing that the upcoming weekends will be spent in the mountains chasing down the colors of autumn. I've looked back over my photos from last year and have mapped out this years trips chronologically. I learned last fall that the changing of the leaves migrated from northwest to southeast in Colorado starting from a weekend in Grand County at a friends cabin in late September. Having been back in Colorado just over a year now I have had the opportunity to find the nooks and crannies of the Colorado Rockies that most people don't take the time to explore.

I'm also on the hunt this year for a pumpkin patch in the Colorado Rockies. While living in Atlanta I made a yearly trip with friends in the fall to the big pumpkin patch in Dawsonville, GA. However I learned a few years ago to plan my annual trip around their Moonshine Festival (yes, I'm serious). They had pumpkins of every shape, size and color, although the sign at the entrance noted that wheelbarrow drivers must be of at least a certain age (I always found that rather amusing). It's one of the things I miss doing with my friends there, and am hoping to resurrect the event with friends and family here. This year though I hope to get to more of southern Colorado and I have a friend there on high alert to notify me when fall shows up at their door. It's hard to believe how fast this year has gone by, and the majority of the summer months seem as though they just vanished out of my life. Before you know it we will get our first snow fall and the living things of Colorado will go into a state of hibernation. But as plants and animals prepare for the cold winter months the countdown until the opening day at Winter Park has begun!

Colorado Wildflowers

2009-08-24T15:08:00.000-07:00

It's been a year of the strangest weather here in Colorado. Everything from 70 degree days in January and February to a summer full of tornadoes and hail storms. Of all the years I have lived in Colorado this has got to be one of the greenest. In the distance from downtown you can see the mountains blanketed in vibrant colors.

This year I've seen wild irises in the Teller County valley this spring, wild sunflowers just about every where you turn, and now wildflowers of every shape and color throughout the high country. Walking through valleys and even up fourteen thousand foot peaks they are everywhere and in mass numbers.

A recent hike on a hunt for the state flower was successful and I got to share the adventure with a great friend. The friend I went hiking with jokingly commented on a song from a very well known movie... and this year the mountains truly are alive!

Crossing the Cattle Guards

2009-08-24T14:16:00.000-07:00

It seems they are everywhere… some near, some far. And once your tires rumble across the staggered metal bars it’s almost as if you enter into a totally different world, and even sometimes a state of mind. Some are as near as the rural county roads not far from the house. I even see the grass feeding creatures they contain, daily as I merge onto E-470.

But the cattle guards that seem the most intriguing to me are the ones that take you into seemingly far away lands from the everyday life in the city. Wide open fields of the eastern plains, where fourteen thousand foot peaks are barely within sight, trains rumbling through the countryside as the tall grass sways in the wind. Dried up ancient bodies of water, the massive round boulders and eroded banks a testament to the waters that once whisked through the valleys. And majestic pyramids of granite, only slightly eroded by time, adorned with wildflowers of every color and slowly melting glaciers. All are in sight once you cross the cattle guard and yet each so drastic from one another.

Artistic Expression

2009-08-21T23:15:00.000-07:00

By the date of the last posting on here one can easily see how neglected this blog is… again.
Even though life is a much slower pace in Colorado than the rat race of Atlanta, it’s still easy to get caught up in people and things, and forget about what it is that makes us tick. Just as lives together can build they can easily crumble, and most times much faster than the rate of which they were built. It’s in these times that one looses the identity of “us” and painfully returns to just “me.” But as that shift revolves the dreams of a life together and of dreams that were seemingly in one’s grasp suddenly slip through the fingers and off into the darkness. I try to remind myself of the saying that “It is better to have loved and lost, then to have never loved at all.” But when it’s your breaking heart that keeps you up at night, there are few things that comfort you. It’s those difficult days of learning how to fall out of love, clutching the pillow at night rather than falling asleep with our heads on their chest… waking up without the cup of coffee they bring us or the early phone call to say good morning, that rattles our emotions and can shake us to our core. It’s the moments we realize how badly we’ve been hurt that we drive up to the mountains in the middle of the night to sit under a starry moon lit sky and let it all out. The pictures we took, the places we went together, the times shared… that we hope in time our hearts will heal and let those memories once again be filled with joy and happiness. It’s the true friends that show their colors and either directly or inadvertently show you how much they care and understand what you are going through. Dogs still sit at the door waiting for you at the end of the day… their tails wagging with the unconditional love they have for you. And then new people come into our lives… reminding us again that there are truly good people out there in the world that we can trust and open up to. Whether near or far, they bring smiles to our day in the simplest ways… and they remind us how the poetic lyrics of our favorite song, the art of the written word, or a moment captured in time through a lens can begin to heal our heart, mind and soul. It’s those artistic expressions that can help us heal as we learn to allow into our lives those that can show us how to do it all over again! As each day sets over the horizon of the jagged Colorado Rockies… new days begin from the east with hope and understanding.

Dedicated to my friend Russ in Atlanta… who’s walking in foot steps very similar to mine.

Shut your eyes...

2008-11-15T12:27:00.000-08:00

It was about the time I moved back to Colorado I first noticed, or rather really listened to this song... and kind of ironic that I did at that time. I had bought the album some time ago, and finally took the time to listen to the whole thing... not just the song that the radio deemed important enough to play... or however all that works. But this day while driving up the tight turns on Loveland Pass this song suddenly jumped out and grabbed me. I had taken a liking to the song melodically some time ago, but suddenly words created a shiver up my spine and goose bumps ran down my arms to the steering wheel.

“Shut your eyes and think of somewhere, Some where cold and caked in snow…” “And when the worrying starts to hurt and the world feels like graves of dirt Just close your eyes until you can imagine this place, yeah, our secret space at will” Shut your eyes, by Snow Patrol

I’ve always needed my place to get away from it all. In GA had my favorite spot where two trees had fallen across a river and formed the perfect get-a-way above the running water. The cottage, being way out in the country another great escape from modern day life. And here… in the Colorado high country sitting at the top of a mountain you just climbed is more freeing from modern day woes than anything I’ve ever felt. You realize how small we are when sitting on one of these granite giants, and suddenly you begin to appreciate everything around you a little more. Stock markets will tumble… gas prices fluctuate… big companies start to fall… and election campaigns finally come to and end. But the mountains are always here…

Go west young man...

2008-11-15T10:43:00.000-08:00

Some would say I’m crazy, but the adventurous side of me did it anyway. In April I had the goal of interviewing for a job or two, seeing family and friends, and also reconnecting with the city that raised me through my adolescence. As I hate the idea of “puppy jails” and asking friends to watch my two could always lead to trouble (and the possible loss of a friendship) I decided to embark cross-country and take the pups with me. So I packed the car and headed out on my journey. A journey from Atlanta to Denver that has yet to feel settled to this day, as I still feel I’m trying to find my place here. Kind of ironic since this is where I grew up!

So anyway… two days prior to leaving I had to have all four wisdom teeth extracted, so not much of my mind took in the sights on the way out to Denver but was more centered on the pain and getting to my first night’s destination pop a percocet. A brief stop over in St Louis to see Mike and Kevin was too brief and I headed out first thing the next morning to get to my ultimate destination. Having heard the joys of traveling through west Kansas I had prepared myself with purchasing a few books on cd. I like variety in life so I had a broad selection of books to listen to. “Marley and Me” seemed to do the trick (Earnest Hemingway’s Short Stories were starting to put me to sleep)... although I had not been warned of the ending. Tears ran down my face as I heard the author and narrator tell of his beloved labs last days as I passed by the “Welcome to Colorful Colorado sign.” Suddenly I felt like I was home again, and in some strange way felt a new appreciation for the lab of my own curled up in the back seat with his ‘sister’ Cloe, my Weimeraner.

Soon mountains came into view and I knew that a new chapter of my life was about to begin.

Catching up...

2008-11-15T10:40:00.000-08:00

I know I have neglected this blog for a while. Sorry guys... but the move... trying to get a job off the ground and running... launching a new website (that I had to learn most of myself)... and well making up for lost time in the Colorado Mtns has kept me busy the last several months. But the snow has started to fall and now I'll try to get you caught up!

REALITY (May 08 08)

2008-07-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

It’s been in the back of my mind for years now… but always seemed like more of a faint dream than anything else. But here I am… on a plane… watching the midtown skyscrapers of Atlanta fade off in the night sky. Just a day ago a long awaited call was received. "Can you be here by Friday?" There was a slight hesitation in my mind… very slight. The rest of me said you can do this… you have the resources… and it will happen. After all it’s all about making this distant dream of moving home a reality. Jumping on a plane and heading across country is just not the sort of thing I do… at least not since Tadg and Cloe. But friends are always there when you need them the most right? Paula was a quick call away and today even reachable (another story to tell another day... but that's what happens when your best friend is a Delta flight attendant.) But over the nine or so years we have known each other… she always comes through when I need her the most.

So much has been going thru my mind the last several weeks since deciding to move back to Denver. How do I land a job, what kind of offer will I get… what about housing… how do I get the dogs and my wine collection across country (you see where my priorities lie)… when do I tell Grandma… am I doing the right thing!!! But I always tell people that they need to do what their heart says to… do the things in life that make you happy. So why is there still sadness in some of the corners of my mind??

I guess one still out weighs the other, but you can’t help think about things… especially when reality is starting to set in. Ten years is a long time… and here I am at 34, picking up everything and moving across country. Fifteen hundred miles seems far enough, but when you compare Atlanta and Denver, Georgia and Colorado… everything they are, everything they stand for… makes them seem even further apart. From a concrete jungle with the pace that would make most peoples head spin, to the laid back culture of Denver where purple mountain majesties dominate your everyday look on life.

But as I am sitting here in first class... had my glass of wine before we even took off... everything again just feels right.

Spring in the Colorado Rockies

2008-04-17T09:52:00.000-07:00

A sight for sore eyes... I woke up this morning to a crisp white blanket of purity across the metro area. Having been in Atlanta for ten years now, aside from this years crazy winter season, snow has been a distant memory more than anything else. I'm sure next winter I'll probably be cursing the stuff, but for now it's a welcome old friend... one of many these days I've been reacquainting myself with.
There's just been something different about this visit... mainly I think because it's more than just that. Last weekend was a journey along the "long and winding road" out of the deep south and back to a familiar place... back to the place that has always been considered home... and in some ways back to myself. Of course the mountains are unmistakable... they've changed so little in my absence. But Denver has grown up in so many ways, and so much from my childhood is dwindling. Houses I knew as a kid are smaller....streets are narrower... and the old shopping malls are vacated and ready for dismantling. Every turn around another corner... every glance out the corner of of my mind jogs a memory of growing up here. I guess though Denver and I while apart all these years have grown together.

I've driven around the city the last few days in awe of the majestic purple mountain majesties to the west. And in this relatively short time my mindset has completely changed...almost like re adapting to what is was meant to be... like being reset to the "factory settings" that Atlanta over the years has reprogrammed. In Atlanta traffic ( much like the people), aside from its congestion is always in a hurry. Here no one is in that same frantic rush, almost as if those mountains send you into some mesmerized state of consciousness. And with the wide open brilliant blue skies its like an infant seeing the world for the first time. Its nice to be back in a laid back setting that compliments who I am, rather than having the world around me rush at mach III speed. If only I didn't have to go home and pack.

Two days ago I sat in the Cheeseman Park. I don't ever really remember this park growing up but the guy from the hammock walked me down there and we talked and enjoyed the downtown skyline to the right... snow capped peaks to the left... and watched residents flying kites and throwing a football in the grassy meadow.

Today I got up and took the dogs outside to play in the snow.

Puppies first real snow. I think they are more suited for a life in Colorado as well!

moments....

2008-03-17T21:53:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in the world. Sometimes we forget what it is that truly makes us tick. And sometimes it just takes one little thing to make our eyes open again and see the world in the light we know it should be seen in.

Life is good at sweeping us up and taking us for a ride, and we seldom stop to look not at where we’ve been, but where we are going. For the fortunate… one day something happens, or someone comes into your life, that makes the light above your head shine once again. Though not as bright as the light over New Mexico, that light shines on ahead, and clears the path we truly wish to follow. And the simplicity of sharing a cup of coffee while looking over pictures on an iphone set to your favorite tunes… a long conversation in a parked car late at night… or how an early spring afternoon swaying in a hammock with shadows dancing across your face can unravel the complexity of a city where people become zombies of the corporate giant.

It’s amazing how one small thing can make such a huge impact in your life. It’s amazing how one week can show you the way. It’s amazing how one person can remind you of all you wish to be to not only yourself, but show you everything you’ve ever truly wanted in another.

There’s a place where buffalo roam… where the air is crisp, clean and innocent. Where purple mountain majesties have been sung about… and where even the truly unsinkable have found them selves. There’s a place where the skies are as big as a child's eye's seeing the world for the first time… where the landscape is so majestic that you can’t help but stare in awe. There’s a place where you see yourself in the arms of that loved one… balanced in a hammock… wading in mountain streams… gliding through canyons… or simply next to you when you first awake on Sunday morning.

Fredericksburg, VA

2008-01-26T08:25:00.000-08:00

At the first of the year I escaped the social jungle of Atlanta to visit some relatives in Virginia… historic Fredericksburg to be exact. My aunt and uncle reside in a historic old colonial row home built in 1727, stately in its presence and alive with a brightly colored door. Even as my uncle, an architect, puts his contemporary yet respectful mark on this town, the history of the area is apparent in every inch you walk… every sight you see… every moment you take in. Hand carved floor joists support the floor in a gallery we visited one night, and the owner of an antique store on Caroline Street still holds “court” in front of a roaring fireplace amongst his colleagues. The various staircases in one boutique wine shop were reminiscent of an Escher drawing… staircases and alleys come and go from every direction in this town. Each step its own journey, it was like walking in a historic Manhattan… coffee shops, restaurants, and shoe stores all just a brick away. I often spotted a somewhat tattered and scruffy man who walked the streets everyday in his leather shoes, wool hat and trench coat. His presence was not only here and now, but had a feeling of a restless civil war soul still walking the streets as if he was on a search for something. Even though it’s now 2008 the roaring rumble of trains and clapping of Clydesdales down the city streets was enough to take a trip through time.

A Christmas Story...

2007-12-24T08:18:00.001-08:00

It was Tadg’s first Christmas… the Yellow Lab I got in October 2003, who grew by the hour those first several months.

To answer the question I know you're thinking… Tadg was the name of one of 14 sons to King Olliol Ollum who ruled Co. Tipperary in Ireland around 1000 B.C. My great grand mother had gotten me started on our genealogy by having our family roots researched and had traced our family back to this King. I always thought it was a cool name, and therefore named my dog Tadg (rhymes with badge). So…

I had traveled to my parents for the holiday to spend the usual every other Christmas celebration with family arriving from all over. Many of us stayed at mom and dad’s while the main day celebration was at another relative’s home about two hours away. With the large number of people for the main dinner Tadg was left at home to protect the tree, and hopefully not water it in our absence. As the dinner feast settled in my stomach I kept a close eye on my watch as it ticked closer to the expiration of a young dog’s bladder. Those in Turkey comas were awakened and given coffee and a rush of sugar on a plate. After the gift exchange was conducted by the youngest in the family, adorned with a Santa hat of course, I signaled the family traveling with me it was time. Leftovers were divided up and everything packed back into the bags they came in. Coats gathered at the door, the engines were running and we were back on the road. The drive home reminisced the previous hours spent with the family. The “Did she tell you about,” “did you hear he,” and “hasn’t he grown” conversation made sure everyone was on the same page. The time passed with conversation and music and we eventually pulled into the drive at my parents home. I made it quickly to the house through the garage to give the young pup his reprieve.

I got as far as the kitchen island and I could already hear him galloping around the living room with his tags jingling like he was some sort of reindeer. You’d have thought he was in some sort of race as he dashed around the couches, his nails just gripping the Berber carpet. I noticed from the corner of my eye something on the floor kind of strewn there and not recognizable... small pieces of wood and what looked like tree branches. My dad escorted Tadg outside and left me to reveal the identity of what ever this was. After closer inspection and utilizing skills learned from the few CSI shows I have seen in my life, I reached my verdict. In all my life under the Christmas tree sat a nativity scene and a clay animal. The clay adolescent artwork I had made for my mom I think in elementary school. Although I can’t remember what animal it was supposed to be, to me it always looked like a brownish-orange rat with a shinny glazed coat. But I made it for mom one year, and so there is sat every holiday to protect the holy icons of the nativity scene. That year though the rat or what ever it is (I've been informed it's a donkey) failed miserably. Now with mini-mom and Auntie M (that’s what I call them) helping me, I gathered the pieces of the nativity scene that was given to my dad by the priest that presided over the church he grew up in… the church in which he was an altar boy… and the same priest that married my parents. The search party looked through the room and collectively came up with Mary… with a little drool… Joseph… a bit chewed up… and three wise men. After running Tadg for a bit my dad came back in the house and questioned as to the mess the dog had made. When the mystery was revealed you could see in his eyes the disappointment, and my heart sank. We still though were on a search… our young savior was missing.

The search went on into the night but came up empty as the baby Jesus was no where to be found. However a partially eaten bag of Christmas colored Hershey Kisses was discovered near the fireplace. This latest discovery alarmed me as everyone knows chocolate is no friend to dogs. The hunt for baby Jesus quickly went cold and I made my way to a computer to find the number of the nearest vet, or any animal care giver that could be reached at 10 pm on Christmas night. With the size of Tadg and the amount he ate I was assured he would be alright, just a little hyper, and to keep an eye on him. Now take one sixty pound- four month old lab… then add some Hershey’s kisses, Christmas colored of course… and you’ve got yourself a big mess! For the next day or so it was like having a drooling Tasmanian devil running amuck. Well, time went on as the family was put on an amber alert for the still missing baby Jesus. Everyone who has ever had a puppy knows what a handful they can be, even little terrors at time. It was now evident though that my precious little puppy was indeed the anti-Christ. Walks with Tadg turned investigative to see if maybe baby Jesus would show up in the gifts he left in the yard, now sparkling from the candy wrappers. Days turned into nights, and still no baby Jesus.

A few nights later while we played Turbo Cranium at the dinner table, Tadg laid at my feet as he always does. The game was suddenly interrupted as a noticeable sound came from under the table. That recognizable heaving sound that every parent and dog owner knows. Suddenly the search was over as Tadg yakked up the baby Jesus, reborn unto us three days after he had gone missing. Now I’m not sure if you would consider it a joyful moment, but at least our questions and days of searching were over. With the family living so far apart it’s rare that we can all get together, but this Christmas Tadg made it special by giving us a two for one on our holiday celebrations. Happy Holidays!

A few of my favorite things...

2007-12-23T06:16:00.001-08:00

I heard that song yesterday somewhere between usual Saturday errands and some last minute holiday shopping. The following is an excerpt from a book I've been writing for the last four years entitled "Great Grand Dad's Rocking Chairs." One of these days I'll finish it but it seems the only time I ever find to write is when I am there. I'll trade in rain drops on roses, and whiskers on kittens any day for this...

"It’s often said that a single smell can sometimes conjure up certain memories. But in this case, for me, it not only encompasses memories of times spent here but also a mental and physical state of mind. The journey in getting here is a long and somewhat tedious one but once here the senses trigger the mind into an altered state. Since no one lives here full time she is often left to her own, closed up tight to weather the elements, also sealing in her own unique smell… a rustic bouquet of early American wrought iron beds, decade old goose down pillows and the muskiness of old fishing equipment. To some it may seem unpleasant. Heck even I have tried to cover it up with a quick trip through the house with a spray bottle of Febreeze, and the urge to open a few windows and give her a breath of fresh air. But in a nearly century old cottage with a skin of cedar shake and interior lined with knotty yellow pine it’s just one of the natural characteristics of this old country girl. Once those initial aromas process in my mind a second group begins to release immediately from my memory, or it is from the kitchen? Even in their physical absence I can smell the lingering hints of country breakfasts with fresh baked biscuits, smoked sausage, and old fashioned mill grain grits… shrimp and crab boils, regional style barbeque, iron skillet corn bread and the fresh baked chocolate chip cookies that send all the relatives into a frenzy like sharks at a feeding. In some ways escaping the daily rat race of living in Atlanta and coming here is like escaping time itself… a quick journey back to a time when things were simpler… easier. There’s not much need for modern conveniences and you learn what human life truly needs in order to thrive. Over five generations of family and friends have set up camp here. Images in both color and black and white portray a lot of the same activities, and the images of the people only a slight aged mirror reflection of each other. Whether it’s lounging on the porch, fishing off the piers or swimming in the breakers some things never change. It’s become a lazy man’s paradise out here born on tradition. And knowing that generations before me have gazed out the same windows or felt the same breezes rush by them makes me feel while here alone for now, I’m at home and in good company."

~this last photo through the trees is the view from my room~

"When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad"

A few weekend sights...

2007-12-22T05:58:00.000-08:00

On a weekend hiking trip I got stuck behind a truck on the swaying hills just north of Dahlonega. I took a side street and off I was into another weekend adventure.

Oakland Cemetary

2007-12-14T04:05:00.000-08:00

On an autumn stroll through the historic graveyard with residents the like of Margaret Mitchell and Bobby Jones, the sometimes too obvious shows you there is so much life and expression where most people only see death. Statues come to life as one mourns yet another shows its innocence in the arms of St Anthony. Children are protected from skies that bear so little rain these days, and even the water lines are weary.

Christmas in a small town....

2007-12-14T02:36:00.001-08:00

As my family and friends know, there is a little corner of the world where I like to get away from it all. It’s a place where you can almost escape time itself, and certainly the rat race of living in a big city. No need for modern conveniences. No need for much of anything except a good rocking chair and a cup of French roast in the morning to watch the water weave between tides and currents. Life is shared and family history told as Brown Pelicans, Blue Heron and Seagulls fight over real estate on the storm battered piers. The caffeine rush here does nothing more than maybe get that rocking chair to go a little faster, and even that can be a stretch of wishful thinking. It’s been an escape for the family built on tradition, and the last several years our Thanksgiving has made itself home on these banks.

Through some back country roads on Saturday evening, passing corn and cotton fields with the speckling of yards piled high with crab traps, I find my way to a waterfront community rich in history. Down the main drag lined with historic turn of the century homes raised for protection from storm surges, a prominent old brick building sticks out piercing the sky with an American and North Carolina State flag. The five story brick and cedar shake structure hovers over the town housing their City Hall, the local Police Department and a museum all in one. A few feet further the intersection of Main and Pamlico Streets… and you’re in downtown Belhaven. Last year was the first time I got to attend the Belhaven Holiday Parade. Even with a “Nor Easter” pounding the area the day before most people were carving their birds, dozens showed up to the parade zigzagging through the still partially flooded streets. Hot apple cider was served out of a store with its pink and silver decorations more a testament to big city living in contrast to the bait and tackle, hardware and other water front shops beside it. I must say I was in awe last year as I watched the parade of this small community go by. Very few of us will ever get to enjoy the down home holiday celebration of a town so down to earth and basic in its needs.

This year I observed the parade in a much different light. Not so much a comparison, but to enjoy the down home goodness of a people celebrating the season in their own unique style. People begin to gather on the corners while others park their cars facing the street to avoid getting out and into the cold. The white glare of fluorescents spills onto the sidewalk from a “laundro-mat” while a mother and her daughter sit in the window watching the commotion. Cops act like barricades and emergency vehicles from the neighboring towns help start the parade, ending the live nativity scene paired with the bluegrass sounds of the season from a local band. This year a twelve piece marching band made its way down Main, each member with their own illuminated instruments. I’m thinking these were the same kids from last years R.O.T.C. squad, as there was no marching band last year, but a musical collaboration of elders riding on a trailer pulled through town. A bright yellow Hummer from an obviously prosperous real estate agency and mobile pews from various religious beliefs trickle through under the sparse decorations of the main intersection. In the distance the bellowing horns of semis rumbled towards me as a faint glair of their decorations came into sight. Seven in all with lights, bows and every other holiday decoration imaginable, crept passed me with a mechanical purr. I waited in anticipation as I knew Santa was the usual grand finale. Last year he glided through town at the helm of a twenty two foot fishing boat being pulled by a Dodge, a true sign of the lively hood of these people. But this year Santa was high atop the crane of a utility truck… passing by, barely clearing the traffic signals and power lines. The modest crowd cheered, Santa passed by waving, and in less than twenty minutes after the first siren squalled, it was over. The spectators quickly returned to their cars and within minutes the faint celebration resembled the passing pirate ghost ships of folklore that sail these same waters. Glancing back to the main brick structure the brilliant full moon peered through the clouds in an early night sky.

Recent...

2007-10-16T06:39:00.001-07:00

Fall is in the air.

2007-10-15T17:11:00.000-07:00

There's something about fall that just gets my senses churning. Letting the house breathe once again after the brutal summer heat it just seems fitting for a little Billie Holiday, Etta James, Dinah Washington or Nina Simone (nothing beats a Sunday kind of love). The lapse between outragous air and heating bills is a welcome reprieve (a charming 1938 bungalo does have its drawbacks). Crisp morning air and a dark roasted cup of joe on the deck throwing the ball for the dogs (well the one dog, the other's afraid of him and hasn't got the taste for tennis balls covered in drool and dirt yet) knowing that the holidays and time planned with family will be here in the blink of an eye. The maple, hickory nut and leaves of my neighbors sweet gumball tree are starting to turn every vibrant color that fall is known for and I'm anxious to get back to North Georgia with friends for my annual pumpkin patch trip. Yeah... yeah... I know the farmers market has plenty, but there's nothing like grabbing your own wheel barrow and browsing the pumpkin patch in Dawsonville GA. Pumpkins of every size and color with kids of all ages running from one to another for closer inspection, attempting to talk their parents into the largest one. Although the youngest of the bunch is a blond toddler dressed in OshKosh, hands stretched out in front gasping at the sights of his young eyes. Hayrides through the hillsides and drives through the twisty switchbacks of SR180 and 60 to take in one of the most spectacular seasons… windows open… listening to the grip of rubber along the pavement and a breeze through the sunroof. Although not as majestic as the trips in the fall to see the Aspens in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado growing up, the hills (as I call them) of Georgia are equally amazing.

Fall menu's featuring harvest vegetables at the top Atlanta restaurants are getting on their way… butter browned sage and squash over pasta and roasted butternut squash soup with apple and candied pecans… and times with friends sampling these new appetizers with my selection of wines is always a treat and time well spent. While I still miss those majestic Rocky Mountains, falls here in Georgia are a good second runner up. Although, I reminisce being in Manhattan this month last year, being in Central Park watching mother natures same amazing transformation smack dab in the center of the worlds most amazing city. This year I got to sample a touch of fall in Denver and then returned home to Atlanta with a backsplash of summer heat and now once again that same crisp autumn air. With Thanksgiving soon approaching it’s always a good time to reflect on the year and give thanks. And this year there's one special thanks to whom ever is in charge up there for looking after my brother on that day that could have changed everything! As leaves are falling, air gets colder, and even flakes of pure innocence will start to fall from the sky, a solstice is approaching, a time for rebirth, and for everything to renew again.