I recently ventured to Grand Manan, New Brunswick with a new photography friend to photograph island life and the puffins of Machais Seal Island in the Bay of Fundy. Despite heavy fog during the ferry crossing to the island, the excitement was building as we anticipated photographing puffins, harbors and lighthouses. The fog remained thick throughout the day and the lighthouses proved to be unlike any
we had ever seen. The base structures of the lighthouses were square and the light structure often only consisted of a fog horn that could prove damaging to your eardrums which discouraged you from sticking around for long. This first day provided for a couple of fog filled photos, but little else.
After several trips up and down route 776 on the island, there was not a single photo to be had and the bad news continued with the cancellation of the journey to the Machais Seal Island due to rough seas. Thank goodness my new friend and I
shared a sense of humor a
nd adventure. Our sense of adventure did lead us into the woods of Grand Manan looking for a lighthouse that it turned out did not exist and to every beach, pond and overlook of which none produced a photo opportunity. We did exit the woods wondering why and how the bags hangin
g from trees deep in the woods filled with beer cans along the way came to be, but that will remain a mystery until we locate a local that can educate us. The day ended with confidence in the fact that we had traveled every inch of the island. All that remained was hope for a visit to the Machais Seal Island the next day.
Our third day on the island we found a sunrise location that was unfortunately lacking in splendor, but we stuck it out to the bitter end like any other hopeful photographer would. The afternoon presented clear skies and calmer seas as the trip to the Machais Seal Island was going forward as scheduled. We landed on the island following a short skiff ride and were oriented to the island which currently contains 8,000 pairs of puffins.The puffins come to the island to raise their young. The pufflings are not visible as they are protected from predators behind burrows in the island rocks. Photographing the puffins is a challenge from a wooden blind which contains 4 other photographers, with you guessed it, extensive telephoto lenses on a minimum of two cameras and through a six inch square hole to shoot from. We wasted no time getting to know each other and called out sightings of birds from each of our vantage points.
Puffins fly upwards to 50mph, making it challenging to catch them in flight. A bonus shot is when a puffin lands with a mouth full of fish and squid to feed to their pufflings. Following the time limited hour to photograph the puffins, our boat captain took us to the other side of the island to view seals sunning on the rocks and swimming along the rocky coast.
The Machais Seal Island can be accessed via boat tours originating from Cutler, Maine or Grand Manan, New Brunswick.
Visiting Machais Seal Island is highly recommended whether you are a photographer or not.
Carpe diem!
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As I sat on the shores of Lake Willoughby in Vermont last night, hopeful for a sweet golden hour and epic sunset, neither of which transpired, it was the couple in the canoe in the center of this frame that had me thinking. Thinking of opportunities that we do and and don't take. This couple pushed off from shore just prior to the golden hour and after the sun set, they drifted in the lake, one with the stillness of the beauty that was surrounding them. It is these opportunities in life that are the real gifts. Don't pass them up, but rather put more sunsets and sunrises in your life. You'll never regret those.]]>
According to the New England Maple Museum:
Maple sugaring is a deeply rooted farming tradition that has made Vermont the leading maple syrup producer in the United States. According to the USDA, Vermont produced a total of 2.07 million gallons of maple syrup in 2019! Maple sugaring is an age-old process that was discovered by the Native Americans hundreds of years ago and taught to the settlers that followed.
In early years Vermont’s agricultural farmers began sugaring as a way of supplementing their income during the winter months. In Vermont, the February school break was derived from the farmer’s need to have their children help tap the trees and get ready for the sugaring season. During these times, buckets were hung from the trees and gathered with horse drawn sleds with big wooden holding tanks to dump the sap into. Days would be spent feeding the evaporator and boiling the sap into maple syrup. Nowadays, modernization has made sugaring more efficient with the use of tubing, vacuum pumps, Reverse Osmosis machines and state of the art evaporators.
Maple sugaring has evolved into an industrious commodity with its many uses and nutritional qualities. Each sugar house and farm is unique in various way. The maple sugaring community is tight-knit and welcoming of all who visit. There is a solid consistency between each and every maple sugaring operation and that is – its deeply rooted in family tradition and whether using buckets to gather sap the “old traditional” way or by using tubing and modern technology – it remains HARD WORK!
This past weekend, I visited with the Temples family at the Burke Mountain Creamery in East Burke. This is a multi-generational family working together to produce maple syrup from their 9,000 taps on a picturesque hillside in Caledonia county. They are a prime example of hard-working Vermonters who are proudly passing along the history and traditions of their farm to the next generation. Thank you for sharing your knowledge about the maple sugaring process and the opportunity to meet your kind and welcoming family.
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Photography was something I never imagined for myself as a pursuit. It appeared in my life as I sought a path for sharing what my heart experienced out in the world. As I filled my days with helping businesses solve the financial and managerial issues that were preventing them from fulfilling their full potential, I myself recognized that my full potential had yet to be realized. There was always an artistic side that was untapped and unseen. Photography changed that for me.
There is no greater compliment than when someone says they are emotionally moved by a photo that you have captured or that they feel transported to the very spot that you captured a mesmerizing sunrise or sunset. These are the compliments that leave you knowing you touched someone. Touched someone in ways that are remembered and speak to the soul of who that person is.
As I retire not necessarily from something, but rather to something which is to pursue photography in a way that others can see what is in my heart. To share the joys of life through photography and feel my passion for something that thoroughly fulfills me….to see me. Sharing an intimate part of your soul is the most precious gift you can give to anyone.
Quoting Ansel Adams, “You don’t make a photograph just with a camera. You bring to the act of photography all the pictures you have seen, the books you have read, the music you have heard, the people you have loved.”
Whatever your passion is, share it and let it live on.
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Despite the graying, worn look and lack of prime functionality, there remains beauty and in turn respect for how long and hard they have weathered each storm.
Like us as we turn silver gray, become tired and lean a bit more ourselves, we retain our beauty, albeit on the inside. We weather the storms that present so unfairly. Those storms shaping who we are on the inside. No matter how weathered one may look, may we take the time to look past the exterior and cherish each other for the beauty, knowledge and strength that lives in each of our hearts and souls.
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tos that hopefully he will cherish in years to come that will remind him of the countless hours he and his father spend together sharing the love of this sport.
As parents, we all have most likely spent hours and years supporting our children in athletic and artistic endeavors. Today watching these parents labor over the repairs and maintenance of these cars, give pep talks, hugs, cheer and support not only their own children but the other competitors, and most importantly they modeled how to lose and win graciously..
In the end, we support our children and grandchildren in these ways for the bigger life lessons that they learn by participating in these events: setting goals, handling fear and disappointment, teamwork, commitment, self-discipline and so many more.
Kudos to all those parents giving it their all, for their kids!
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My grandparents were the center of my life as a child. I saw them daily and while they never took me to Disney nor do I believe even a local fair they did everyday things with me, read books to me, treated me to ice cream on a steamy Summer evening, took me fishing, held my bike seat level while I learned to balance and glide away from what would be the last lesson I would ever need in learning to ride a bike and amongst all of this and more, was knowing even when the words were not spoken that you were loved and safe.
It will always be the simple things in life that you remember about those you love and treasure. As I spent a weekend with grandchildren, they didn't go to Disney either, but they did have a country pool party, were treated to ice cream on a steamy Summer evening, were read to, herded a calf back to its mother (ask them about it....it was a highlight), traversed the playground not missing an opportunity as they were pushed on swings and encouraged to try the big kid slides, learned to play new board games and were hugged and treasured.
In the end feeling loved and safe........may be all we really want or need.
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I recently spent a week paddling the Allagash River in Maine with a group of photographers and came back with very few photos that I love. From a photography perspective it was an opportunity to slow down and immerse oneself in the daily flow of the waterway activities. While it certainly made for a good plan, the hours spent paddling, setting up camp, cooking meals, tearing down camp, packing, more paddling and on and on consisted of how the majority of the hours away were allocated. There was most definitely good food, laughter and moments of awe as each day began and ended, but not the photography highlights that I dreamt of.
I began this trip as a seasoned photographer with high hopes and ended it as an experienced canoeist who can traverse difficult water conditions day after day and live the camp life with no whining, but rather a gratefulness that places such as the Allagash exist and can feed our souls. Will I do this canoe trip again? No, but I will be forever grateful that I did. From this experience I learned that I am most successful with my photography when I approach subjects and I am mindful of the objective which is to capture what I see and feel and not crowd that experience with other competing forces.The valuable photography lesson gained on this trip was that the essence of photography is best achieved when time is taken to observe and capture the feeling of what one sees in a compelling composition. It is more about seeing and less about doing.
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A year ago, we hunkered down to weather a pandemic. The isolation, heartache and fear building with each day. We learned to wear masks, practice constant disinfection of our homes and hands as we avoided and washed away the virus that was unseen and not understood. Purchasing food now involved following arrows on the floor of the store to allow for 6 feet of distance from our neighbors and friends whom no longer recognized us as we donned masks and avoided all human contact. School, work, family events and social gatherings became remote affairs or not at all and we hunkered down more and more with each passing day.
A year later, Spring is upon us and our human nature is begging for an end to the dark days. With courage we will overcome and even thrive as we begin the season of hope, we always do.
As we emerge from all the precautions that sheltered us during a pandemic, I hope it is with renewed appreciation for the sweetness of our "normal" everyday lives. Enjoy the beauty of the blossoming Spring flowers, a long-awaited hug from a grandchild, chatting with a neighbor, whatever may bring you joy......emerge and thrive with renewed appreciation.
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I drive by this barn almost daily and every time the weathering of this structure calls out to me. You can see where the direction of the wind has taken its toll on the barn boards and the many times it has been patched here and there. The barn doors have been closed for a long time now, but I imagine busier times on this property when those doos swung open and closed constantly. Sometimes, I wish buildings could talk. I'm sure they would have a fascinating history to share. So, I finally stopped and took a photo of this barn which I drive by daily and took time to notice the ordinary and the expected. Something reassuring about that and hopeful, especially when a pandemic has left many of us not knowing what to expect and questioning hope. I say, never give up on hope and appreciate those thinks that ground us.]]>
As the frigid temperatures descend upon the Connecticut River Valley area in New Hampshire and Vermont, anglers take to the plentiful lakes, rivers, and ponds to try their luck at ice fishing. As first light appears you will find anglers making their way onto the ice to drill holes in hopes of catching a fish that is worthy of bragging rights or at least makes for an interesting story.
There are also those fishermen that appear at the opposite end of the day as light is falling below the horizon to fish for pan fish such as smelt or perch. Which is an art in itself as the subtle flicker of the line requires quick reflexes to hook these small delights.
While ice fishing dates back some 2000 years and was most likely a way of survival when the bodies of water froze over and having food in your belly required hunting, trapping or fishing to ensure your survival. It does not represent the same sense of urgency today, but still provides one with a meal of protein plus the socialization of fellow anglers and the passing on of a family tradition.
One's choice of shelter consists of a temporary structure ranging from tent-looking "pop-ups" and the highly engineered shanty or bob house. Both sheltering you from the cold and a far cry from the bucket my husband sat on exposed to the elements when he first began the sport.
While the pursuit of fishing is what brings you to your favorite body of water, there is the added delight of the smell of a hot breakfast of sausage and eggs filtering from shanty to shanty, endless games of cards and the immense hope of the the next tip-up being the "big one."
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Oh the snowflakes fell in silence
Over Belleau Wood that night
For a Christmas truce had been declared
By both sides of the fight
As we lay there in our trenches
The silence broke in two
By a German soldier singing
A song that we all knew
Though I did not know the language
The song was "Silent Night"
Then I heard my buddy whisper
"All is calm and all is bright"
Then the fear and doubt surrounded me
'Cause I'd die if I was wrong
But I stood up on my trench
And I began to sing along
Then across the frozen battlefield
Another's voice joined in
Until one by one each man became
A singer of the hymn
Then I thought that I was dreaming
For right there in my sight
Stood the German soldier
'Neath the falling flakes of white
And he raised his hand and smiled at me
As if he seemed to say
Here's hoping we both live
To see us find a better way
Then the devil's clock struck midnight
And the skies lit up again
And the battlefield where heaven stood
Was blown to hell again
But for just one fleeting moment
The answer seemed so clear
Heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's just beyond the fear
No, heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's for us to find it here
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Garth Brooks / Joe Henry"
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Headed out for some snowshoeing as I wrapped up my work for the day to experience the silence. I'm sure your thinking, it can't truly be silent. There must be the sounds of cars, airplanes, etc. Well, not where I live! I headed into the woods and other than the occasional "plop" of snow off a tree, it was silent. There is some science that tells us why we hear this eerie silence during a snow storm and after putting all the science together, you end up with soundwaves being absorbed by snowy surfaces which are curved up and out into space and scattered along the way by falling snowflakes, so you can hear the "plop" of snow falling to the ground from a tree next to me, but the further sounds are muted and the result is a wonderful peacefulness and stillness during a snowstorm.
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