My Leopard photo was selected for the 21st annual World of the Wild Art show at Utah’s Hogle Zoo. If you are interested in seeing the exhibit it runs from February 1 through March 16.
Utah’s Hogle Zoo
2600 E. Sunnyside Avenue
Salt Lake City, Utah 84108
There is something restorative about watching the sunset on a beach with warm winds blowing, surrounded by family and friends. We took a trip to Southern California this weekend to get out of the cold. We always find our way back to this beach–Crescent Cove. This is the beach where my wife grew up. This is the beach where I asked her to marry me. Fortunately, she said yes. I think the waves and wind were in my favor that day. Now, we bring our kids to this beach. We climb on the rocks and play in the sand–and, we watch the sunset. There is a peace we find here that calls to us when we wander.Yet, the winds blow us back and we shall return on a distant tide.
Lido di Ostia, or Lido di Roma is a beautiful resort destination on the Tyrrhenian Sea and the mouth of the Tiber River. Ostia was the ancient seaport of Rome. Due to the buildup of silt and the passing of time, the actual Roman seaport is now several kilometers from the sea. But, the warm Mediterranean breezes still blow across a resort village community not far from the heart of both ancient and modern Italy. When I go back to Rome, and I will, I hope to spend more than an afternoon soaking up the sun, sand and warmth of this beautiful Italian community.
It’s January, 2014. The high temperatures in Utah average in the high 20s to low 30s. It’s cold. There’s snow on the ground. The warm glow of Christmas faded as my son took our Christmas lights down. I’m grateful he was home from school to do it, because it was too cold outside for me. In trying to warm up, I wanted to revisit Rome, at least with pictures.
Anne flew to Rome to meet me on my birthday. We stopped at Ostia Beach after shooting an interview nearby. Ostia is the closest beach to Rome and is located on the Tyrrhenian Sea of the Mediterranean, not far from the city. The water was warm. The breezes were gentle. The sunset was magical. Anne was with me, and, it was Rome.
Italy.
I hope, if it is cold where you live, you can feel the warmth of the setting Italian sun and endure the cold, for a few more months.
In Rome, the price of repentance is high. The stones are hard, the hours are long, and the wages are low.
The King of Kings was born in a manger some 2000 years ago. On that night, a new star appeared in the heavens. The star gave light to those seeking the Light of the World. From that first Christmas night, lights have been used to symbolize the Christ Child. Sometime during the renaissance, candles were placed on trees at Christmas to symbolize the birth of the Babe in Bethlehem.
Many now bring lighted trees inside their homes during the Christmas season, yet, the purpose and meaning of the lighted symbol has been forgotten or lost entirely. Lights may adorn the festive holiday trees during the Christmas season and then be put away or, eventually burn out completely, yet, the Candle of the Christ Child, the Light of the World still burns brightly.
For those in need, for those who mourn, for those who feel alone, or lost, or forgotten, the Light of the World still shines during this Christmas season and throughout the year. Perhaps the lights of the season, the symbols of Christmas, may remind us of his gift and bring our footsteps closer to him through the kindness of our actions whenever and wherever we may find them still burning.
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. –Luke 2:14
7:45 am, 28 degrees, Thanksgiving morning, 5K run. I was the designated photographer as three of my children dragged me out of bed to take pictures of them running. Annual tradition. Most all of my family converged on our home for Thanksgiving. With so many people staying in our home, there hasn’t been much sleeping going on. I stayed up way too late. I was tired. I was cold. Then, the sun came up. The light hit the mountain tops and I thought about all the places I have been in the world this year, how many frequent flyer miles I have accrued, how many Marriott points I have, and, I was glad. Glad to be home. Home where the cold November mornings chill my breath. Home where the sun shines more often than not and the summer sun shines late and long. Home where my pillow fits my head and my bed has an indentation just my size. Home where my children come for Sunday dinners. Home where the sun rises over the Wasatch mountains to the east and Lone Peak Mountain lies north. Home, where I’m never lost and always loved. For these things and more I give thanks.
A few nights ago, we were just wrapping a shoot on the campus of Brigham Young University. It had been raining in the valley most of the afternoon and snow had been falling in the higher elevations. Just before the sun set, it dropped below the storm and lit up the mountain. I had just come out of one of the buildings to this scene. I wished I had a better vantage point, a better view. I find, often, that the challenge is not to find a better view, but to see the world where I am in interesting ways. The light changed, the sun dropped below the horizon, it’s brilliance faded. Yet, in that moment I marveled at the beauty. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to take a picture, for the light didn’t last.
The heat was oppressive. The air was heavy, barely breathable for one not used to the nearly 100% humidity. I was given 5 minutes to take pictures on the banks of the Congo River, in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo. The Policeman who accompanied me, told me where I could point my camera. If he listened closely, he could hear the shutter click. After three clicks I had to move on.
About a half-hour drive outside of Lubumbashi, Democratic Republic of the Congo, is a little village called Bande. They grow avocados and fruit and sell them by the roadside to survive. We stopped for a visit. The children immediately surrounded us. They spoke Swahili and French. I spoke neither. With help, we asked the village Elder for permission to take this photo. He smiled and nodded agreement. I thought, for a moment, that the one woman in the shot was the mother. Not so. She is the older sister. The women of the village would not come out of their termite-clay-brick huts. The three men in the shot were the older brother, the uncle and the neighbor. The Elder also would not be in the shot. He was standing beside me looking at my view finder. With a small purchase, you can make friends for life in Bande Village.
They're Calling To Me 