“Motion within motion. It is amazing what a difference a slightly different perspective makes. By looking at things differently, new wonders emerge.” – Ed Lehming
I almost named this image “Motion within Motion”, but what struck me first, and how I generally name my images, is the impression I first get from the image, and that impression was “surge”.
It was not till I spent a bit more time with the image, something I tend to do a lot; simple self-indulgence in a memory captured as an image, that I saw the impact of moving my camera horizontally as the waves crashed to shore. There was a compounding of the motion that transformed it into something more.
The technique I used is called Intentional Camera Movement (ICM); something I have tended to do a lot of in forest scenes with strong vertical lines, and only occasionally, horizontally, to get something a bit more “artsy”. I always have my camera set to 1/4 exposure for this, as that I where I find I get my best images and it’s the speed I can comfortably tilt my camera up and down constantly and relatively straight. My next decision, is the aperture and ISO. Forgive me non-photographers for getting a bit technical here. ISO is the sensor sensitivity to light and aperture is how narrow the camera aperture is. The narrower the aperture, the less light gets to the sensor and the more in-focus the overall image is (depth of field).
Now that I’ve covered that aside, a crucial factor is that I can correctly expose the image. At a 1/4 sec shutter speed, a LOT of light enters the camera, a big problem on sunny days where I can’t compensate for the exposure through ISO and aperture settings. At some point, there is no way of lowering my exposure enough through camera settings to prevent a blown-out image and I have to resort to a neutral density (ND) filter, which is a filter of varying shades of grey that acts like sun glasses for my camera
At one point, I carried a series of ND filters in my kit, till I discovered a Circular Variable Density ND filter that I could darken and brighten just by twisting it (one filter rather than 3 or 4). On the day I made this image, I had it with me in my camera bag and simply began to experiment with different levels of filtering. I did that by adjusting the filter darker and darker and reviewing my images on my camera display. Once I have what I want, I begin to shoot another series of images to get the motion right. In the end, this image took about 20 attempts to get everything to fall in place and produce the image I was after, that and a touch of post-editing. This was not a point and shoot day where I could take out my iPhone and get the shot in one go. Which is a limitation I noted on my previous post, yesterday. This was technical moment to get the image I envisioned. One final point on this technique is that you never get the same thing twice and each image is a surprise.
There you have it, a far more technical post than I had intended, but I think it was important to describe the process so that you know what you are looking at and how I got it..
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 200mm
1/4 sec, f/25, ISO 400
K&F Concept Variable ND8-2000 @ 1200
I love getting to destinations by back streets. They tend to offer a more authentic view of the city than the broad commercial avenues with their crowds and endless souvenir shops.
We found this scene while heading up the hill to the Castle of São Jorge. As steep climb from our apartment near the Tagus River, but more interesting.
The Atelier itself was, at one time, a small artisan ceramic shop. It seemed a bit worse for the wear when we passed by, and the windows were covered in cardboard.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 48 mm
1/475 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 64
Such a common sight here. Every back street has laundry out drying. It’s quintessential Europe to me.
There is such a relaxing and unassuming feel to this place. It’s like stepping back in time.
Another quick travel shot. I simply could not resist the arches and late day sunlight.
Who knew, when I posted the story about the Lisbon tram from last year, that I would be walking up the same hill this year.
Looking back, after ascending in 34°C temperatures is what inspired my caption. Even in the shade, the mid-day walk up this street made sure that I felt every step. At the top, the view back was beautiful and is shown here.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 64 mm
1/2865 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 100
Travel day…I’ll post again when landed 🙂
“Antequera doesn’t rush you. It lets you wander its steep streets until the Alcazaba rises into view, all weathered stone and stubborn history. It’s the kind of place where you pause longer than you meant to, letting the past and the horizon settle into you.” – Ed Lehming
We had only one day in Antequera, a rail stop on our way Granada and some 47 km north of Malaga. It was supposed to be a stopping point between larger destinations — a place to stretch our legs, see one of Andalucia’s famous “white cities”, maybe take a few photos before moving on. But cities have a way of deciding for you, and Antequera made its intentions clear the moment the Alcazaba and the unusual Peña above the rooftops.
The fortress, high above the town doesn’t shout. It stands there with the quiet confidence of something that has outlived every argument, every kingdom, every passing traveller. Its stone walls catch the late afternoon light in a way that feels almost deliberate, as if the place knows how to pose for those who arrive unprepared for its beauty.
I wandered up slowly, letting the steep and narrow streets guide me. Whitewashed houses leaned into the hill, their balconies dripping with geraniums. Every turn felt like a small reveal — a sliver of tower here, a stretch of battlement there — until finally, from my high vantage point, the whole Alcazaba opened before me, solid and serene.
And then, beyond it, the mountain.
Peña de los Enamorados lay across the horizon like a sleeping giant, its profile unmistakable once you see it. Locals say it resembles a fallen lover, and once the idea settles in your mind, it refuses to leave. The story — tragic, romantic, impossibly old — drifts through the air like a second kind of weather. You don’t need to know the details to feel it. The landscape carries the emotion for you.
I stood there longer than I meant to, the hot Andalucian sun beating down, hisory whispering to me, my camera forgotten at my side. The fortress, the mountain, the soft Andalusian light — it all felt like a conversation between centuries, and I was simply allowed to listen.
Before we left, we visited the Dolmens de Antiquera, ancient structures, much like England’s Stone Henge, hewn from massive rocks, their true purpose unknown. I’ll write another post about them, as they were fascinating and deserve more than a mere mention.
Antequera wasn’t a stopover after all. It was a pause — the kind that rearranges your sense of time, the kind that reminds you that some places don’t just exist; they remember.
iPhone 14 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/5556 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 64
“Where stone meets sky, the world remembers how to stand tall.” – Ed Lehming
Moving on from Lisbon to Malaga, Spain. One of my most anticipated day trips was to get to Ronda and the beautiful bridge that seems to be on so many Spanish tourist sites and brochures. A short bus ride from Malaga brought us into the town of Ronda. I guess I was surprised when we pulled up that I had not seen the bridge or the gorge that it straddles while approaching the town. I had this vision that I’d see it in the distance.
The reality is that the road approach does not offer even a brief preview; in fact, it’s a bit of a walk from the bus terminal to get to the bridge itself. However, the walk is worth it, as it brings you past the Alameda de Tajo, a beautiful, treed urban park that leads to a viewpoint overlooking the gorge. The gorge itself is called El Tajo. The path through the park and along the steep gorge leads shortly to Ronda’s famous bullfighting ring. Ronda is famous for it’s bullfighting history. The ring is not the oldest in Spain, but it is unique in that it is constructed primarily of stone. Another feature is that the entire seating area is covered, which is a great benefit in the hot Iberian sun. There is also a spectacular statue of a bull in front of the structure.
Continuing past the bullring, you eventually come to the bridge itself. You know you have arrived because the density of tourists increases significantly. At street level, it appears like any other bridge, but the gorge it spans is spectacular and divides the town of Ronda in half, so the need for a bridge is understandable. This is not the first bridge; it’s the Puente Nueva, or the “New Bridge.” There was a previous bridge, built in 1735, but it was apparently constructed too quickly and poorly, collapsing in 1741 and killing 50 people. The construction of this version of the bridge started in 1759 and took 34 years to complete.
You’ll notice a small window at the center of the bridge, which leads to a chamber that has been used for various purposes, including a prison. During the Spanish Civil War in 1936–1939, the use as a prison and torture chamber continued, and apparently prisoners were often thrown out of the small window into the gorge 120 meters below. It now contains a museum.
There are various viewing platforms (visible in this photo), most quite crowded, and I found that the best view was offered by the Jardines de Cuenca, a bit lower in the gorge, which is where this photo was made. This vantage point can be accessed by various fairly well-marked paths and is worth the hike into the gorge.
You’ll also notice in my camera data below, that I switched to my Nikon D800 for this. Though my iPhone provided some really good images, I once again wanted more control over the aperture to control the depth of field, something that the camera does not do well, in my opinion. My wide-angle lens also has a circular polarizer, so I can eliminate unwanted glare.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 24 mm
1/200 sec, f/7.1, ISO 400
“In Lisbon, Fado doesn’t just echo through the night — it gathers around tables like this, where a candle flickers, a guitar waits, and every sip and every silence becomes part of the song.” – Ed Lehming
On warm summer evenings, within the narrow, winding streets of Lisbon’s Bairro Alto district, warm lamplight and voices drift from numerous taverns. Apart from the many commercial Fado venues, this area is intimate. It’s not grand or touristy; it’s close, human, and lived. This is the type of place we sought out to experience Fado, something genuine.
Fado, I found, represents Lisbon’s expression of saudade: longing, memory, tenderness, and resilience. It found its roots in working-class neighborhoods, where friends and neighbors gathered to tell their stories in song and music. Fado is honest and raw, and I think that is its attraction. It’s not polished and showy, and that, in my opinion, is one of the reasons it has evolved into a national symbol of the Portuguese people.
We found the Bairro Alto district through the advice of one of the people working at the property where we were staying. We told him we wanted something sincere and not put on. He directed us to this area, not far from our hotel in Baixa. The district is known for its Fado, and it has an interesting blend of old and classic taverns and modern bars, each catering to a different clientele. We really had no idea of what to expect, apart from a few YouTube videos we had seen of this place. We were given an address and not much else, and when we arrived, around seven thirty, we found a small unassuming establishment that felt “honest” for lack of a better word. People were milling around outside and gave us a friendly greeting, as we were pretty obviously tourists. They had to point out the entrance, as even that was not obvious.
The place was large but intimate; many tables lined the walls and filled the floor; intimate but not tight, and we were guided to our table. It was explained to us how this would unfold. Appetizers and wine would be served, and when the performers came to the stage, the audience was expected to be respectful and quiet until the set was completed. This routine would be followed as the various courses were served and the meal was complete. By the way, the meal was spectacular, featuring several course of traditional Portuguese cuisine and some really nice wine.
It all started with the two musicians coming to the front, taking some time to tune their instruments, and the singer rising quietly from a table near the back, taking the stage and singing. It’s all pretty spontaneous and feels very natural, as if it were members of the audience sharing their own stories of life. The mood was already set with dim lights, candlelight, wine, and attentive silence.
It’s hard to really describe Fado, except that it is raw, expressive, and fills the room with an emotional weight that I can’t fully articulate. There is a beautiful interplay between the musicians, one playing a Portuguese guitar and the singer. There are pauses and crescendos as the music weaves its spell.
Fado in Bairro Alto feels participatory; the audience becomes part of the emotional landscape, with locals and visitors sharing a moment of shared vulnerability and beauty. I found this to be more than just a performance; it was a lived experience that seems to preserve Fado’s soul in Bairro Alto. For me, it made Fado less of a genre and more of an expression of Lisbon itself.
For reference, here’s the website of the venue: https://xn--pequenaslembranas-osb.my.canva.site/trovas-antigas-restaurante-fado
iPhone 14 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/25 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 1000
“Dragonflies dancing above the lake, near the summer’s end — a moment the wind almost forgot to breathe.” – Ed Lehming
Nature provides these miraculous moments that take my breath away. They are almost always spontaneous and unexpected. I had just walked along the stretch of beach and never even noticed them. Maybe it was the angle of the sun, or maybe I was focused on something else, but when I stepped over the dunes for a different view, the dragonflies filled my sight. It hearkened me back to summers lying in a meadow, looking up at the clouds and seeing the sky filled with dragonflies high above.
I sat on an old driftwood log on the shore and just watched them dance and weave through the sky. They are quite amazing in their maneuverability and speed. I had read somewhere recently that because they have such control over their movement, they have one of the highest success rates in catching their prey of any predator, and I can believe it.
The show never stopped in the time I spent sitting, so there must have been a plentiful supply of food, though there was nothing that I could see.
The other amazing thing that I witnessed, but was unable to capture, was the migration of Monarch butterflies across the lake to their winter home in Mexico, over 4,000 kilometers away. One by one, I saw them head across the water, the start of their journey.
So, a day that I figured would simply be a relaxing stroll on the beach and some nice shoreline photos gave me so much more. It gave me an airshow of sorts and I was happy to be able to document it.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/6172 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 64
“Walk Rua Augusta slowly — Lisbon reveals itself one storefront, one smile, one sunbeam at a time.” – Ed Lehming
Yesterday’s image of the Praça do Comércio inspired me to do something that I don’t often do: post a photo with lots of people in it. Realistically, it’s hard to avoid on Rua Augusta unless you are out very early, and even then, this main thoroughfare is bustling with activity.
I chose the accompanying quote quite carefully, trying to capture the essence of the avenue in the heart of Lisbon’s Baixa district. The street is lined from top to bottom with stores, bakeries, and restaurants. You could spend an entire day here and not take it all in. Further up and not quite visible in this image are numberoud restaurants with table sit up in the middel of the braod street, allowing you to fully enjoy all the activities while savouring local dishes. The servers are quite agressive in trying to get you to eat at their establishment, but don’t seem offended when you move on.
The other feature that stood out for me as a photographer is the beautiful lighting. The bright buildings and the reflective cobbles produce amazing light and minimize shadows. When you look at the image, you will see people’s reflections on the ground but only a hint of shadow. Despite how busy it is, it never feels overly congested. People, especially locals, take their time, often chatting with a friend or co-worker. It’s not unique to Lisbon, but it sure is a nice way to adjust to a better pace.
iPhone 14 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/5525 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 80
“Praça do Comércio reminds us that every city has a gateway where past and present shake hands.” – Ed Lehming
Here’s another image from my exploration of Lisbon last September. As we walked toward the river along Rua Augusta, the main commercial street, we passed through the Rua Augusta Arch, which dominates the base of the avenue. Built to commemorate the city’s reconstruction after the devastating 1755 earthquake, which destroyed much of Lisbon, it is massive and impossible to miss. Passing through the gates and the throngs of people, we emerged into the large Praça do Comércio. It’s an expansive square fronting the Tagus River, surrounded by stately buildings.
At the centre of the square—and fortunately not surrounded by people when I was there—is the equestrian statue of King José I, inaugurated in 1775 as well. This bronze monument was the first monumental statue dedicated to a king in Lisbon. Interestingly, at the base of the horse’s feet are snakes, symbolizing the king crushing his enemies. The square was named Praça do Comércio, the Square of Commerce, to reflect its new role in Lisbon’s economy. The symmetrical buildings around it once housed government offices regulating customs and port activities.
For centuries, Portugal’s wealth moved through this plaza and its adjoining port. More than a transportation crossroads, it became the commercial heart of the city, directing movement west toward Belém and south across the Tagus. The northern trams link Lisbon to its historic district, while the southern ferries carry passengers over the river, continuing the square’s long tradition as a gateway of trade and travel.
For me—as is often the case—standing in a place like this brings visions of what may have happened in the past. A great deal unfolded here, including, as I discovered while studying the history of the square, the assassination in 1908 of the last king of Portugal. He was shot and killed as his family’s carriage made its way across the square. The Portuguese monarchy ended a short two years thereafter.
iPhone 14 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/5385 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 125
“Every passage we walk carries the present forward, yet leaves a quiet echo of the past behind.” – Ed Lehming
Today’s image is another favorite of mine from the Chiado district of Lisbon. Many of the cobbled roadways have these arches that lead to large, mostly private courtyards. This particular one was open and led to several nice restaurants, and a clever florist has taken advantage of the space to showcase house plants.
Another feature, which I hinted at at the start of this post, is the cobbled streets of Lisbon. There is very little traditional pavement as we would be used to in North America, except on main streets; rather, almost all the side streets and walkways are paved with small limestone cobbles. Each is hand-cut and installed by craftsmen. They are all very polished from years of traffic and quite slippery. A warning to travelers: make sure you have shoes with good grip, and I would suggest that high heels are right out for those unaccustomed to walking on this type of pavement. They get even more treacherous with a light rain. They are beautiful, and no two are alike, but they take some getting used to.
There are also places where they have been lifted out, often for a repair to something below, and there does not seem to be any urgency to reinstall them. They just sit in a pile next to the building. Life moves at a different pace here, and you just get used to having to look down constantly for hazards.
I do like these kinds of features; they provide me with a sense of mystery as I explore the streets, and I’m always aware that many of these features have been here for hundreds of years. They are like a gateway to the past.
iPhone 14 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/100 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 125
“Where the hills rise and the tracks curve, Lisbon carries you gently through time.” – Ed Lehming 2026
OK, so I decided to go back to the start of last year’s Spain/Portugal trip and walk through the photos in a somewhat clean timeline. It will be my way of sharing photos and memories and creating a bit of a travel journal for myself—something I had not really considered before. So, here we go.
The first photo I chose, taken the day after arriving in Lisbon, is the iconic tram photo. It’s not as simple as it seems to get a photo like this because, by mid-morning, the streets are filled with people. Nobody is in any real hurry, but it’s hard to get an image without someone walking through the frame or standing awkwardly. I waited several minutes to capture the tram driving up the curving hill, hoping that nobody would arrive to interfere with the shot, and yet, unnoticed to me, there is still a woman coming down the hill behind the tram.
I liked this location, with its curved road rising between the buildings and a bit less foot traffic, though immediately to my right is a busy shopping district. I remember the moment well and constantly thank my wife for her patience as I stand around waiting for the right moment.
In the end, the shot turned out nicely and has become another fond memory of our stay in Lisbon, starting me on a broader journey through this lovely city.
iPhone 14 Pro Max
Main Camera — 48 mm
1/2070 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 64
“Every path we walk is shaped by the footsteps that came before it and the ones we choose to take now” – Ed Lehming
I’m taking a bit of a nostalgic journey and revisiting images from 2025, including many from my trip to southern Spain and Portugal. I may jump back and forth a bit, so don’t expect a smooth timeline at this point. That too may change as I get into these images. For now, I’m going with the images that made me proud, so stay tuned.
One such image is this gateway in the city of Faro, Portugal. The gate, it turns out, dates back to the 12th and 13th centuries, during the Almohad dynasty, and is one of several access gates to the old city. It is part of the old defensive walls built by the Arabs to enable them to defend the city entrances.
The name of the gate comes from, as is the case with many old landmarks, folklore handed down through the generations. One legend is that the army of King Alfonso III, after conquering the city of Faro from the Arabs on March 27, 1249, rested at this site. Another is that a Moorish daughter of a governor fell in love with a knight of the conquering Christian army. She was apparently bewitched by her father and rests (reposes) here.
From my standpoint, I love the way the arches frame the doorway and windows inside the wall and the way the road drifts out of sight just beyond the rear arch. I deliberately rendered it in black and white to remove distractions and highlight the architectural details and textures. You may also notice me switching between my handy iPhone and my full kit camera (Nikon D800) with various lenses. The 70-300mm is generally my go to since it gives me good reach and I can compose and frame photos a bit more discretly than I can with my phone. I often travel with both and switch to whatever I feel will best handle the situation presented.
That these structures are still intact amazes me as a resident of Canada, where even the oldest structures are only a few hundred years old.
Nikon D800
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 70 mm
1/640 sec, f13, ISO 400
“In the quiet shelter of stone and sea, solitude becomes a companion—steady, vast, and deeply kind.” – Ed Lehming
This photo is a bit of a gem for me. Taken on vacation last September in Lagos, Portugal, on Praia dos Estudantes, the Beach of the Students. Usually a very busy place, but by late September, the air and sea have cooled and it’s less busy. It was still busy that day, but I had a brief moment, a quick snippet to myself where nobody was on the beach as I snapped the shot. I was given this fortunate moment, being able to capture this scene with no distractions. You can see footprints all over the sand as a testimony to activity, but I was offered this view for a few seconds.
I had no intention of being here, nor was I even aware that this visit existed until much later when I looked up the location. No, I had set out late that morning with the intention of spending some quiet time wandering the local seashore and exploring the harbor. It was mere chance and curiosity that put me here at this time.
I’d been exploring for about two hours, walking some 5-6 kilometers along the shore, through the harbor and towards the rocky bluffs that define the Portuguese coastline of the Algarve. I was hoping for some photos of the rocks and the seashore and came to realize that there are beaches among these tall rocks, including this one. There were lots of people on the beach and many tourists, like me, exploring. The beaches are all connected by tunnels or caves that run between the rocks. Some are manmade and some are natural. As I went from tunnel to tunnel, I took note of the view this one offered and determined to come back for a photo. It was sheer luck, and what started out as a walk seeking calm beauty offered me exactly that, but only for this brief moment, which I will cherish for a long time.
iPhone 14 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/5376 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 100
“The water stretches out like a quiet infinity, reminding me how small I am and how endless the world can feel.” – Ed Lehming
Above is a photo of three islands at the east end of Lake Ontario. Despite the depth of the lake, geology plays its part and produces three low-lying islands that are all visible on a clear day from the southeasternmost point of Prince Edward County. From left to right, they are named Timber Island, False Duck Island, and Main Duck Island, and they remind me just how vast Lake Ontario is. Main Duck Island is approximately 12–14 km (7–9 miles) across open Lake Ontario and appears as a low shape in the distance behind False Duck Island.
None of the islands are inhabited but do have abandoned buildings from many years ago. Given their low profile, they all have lighthouses. I have yet to visit the islands, but they have a long and colorful history, given their proximity to the USA border. They used to be staging areas for “rum runners” during Prohibition. I’ll have to post another article about them in the future, but I need to do some more research.
But back to the photo. I’ve stood on this shore many times, gazing across the water and the islands as they fade into the horizon. My grandsons always ask about them: what are they called, how far away are they, does anybody live there? They are hard to miss and they really add a sense of scale to the vast body of water, and this is just a small part of it. On clear days, if I look directly south (further to the right), I can see steam billowing up from the cooling towers of the Nine Mile Creek Nuclear Station just east of Oswego, New York (NY).
Interestingly, given the current politicizing of the very name of Lake Ontario, the Town of Oswego, NY, is the home of Fort Ontario, which dates back to the American Revolution and at which one of my ancestors served as a member of the Loyalist Butler’s Rangers. History, geography, and ancestry all merge for me in this small yet vast part of the world.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/6494 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 64
“Time marches forward. Sometime we see it effects and at other times, it’s barely noticable” – Ed Lehming
I spent some time with this photo, as I often do, looking for something. Sometimes subtle details reveal themselves, things I had not noticed when I shot the photo. Other times, there are whispers of wisdom; the image evokes thoughts for me and helps me think deeper about the world around me. It has been a practice for me for some time now. Maybe as I age, I have a larger repository to draw from: fond memories, regrets, and experiences that I revisit. I find myself more contemplative in my experiences.
When I first framed this image, I was focused on the bright, unusually colored sunflower blossom. As I considered different potential compositions, I struggled with how to eliminate the lower, somewhat tired-looking flower. Nothing worked, so I took the shot as you see it, figuring maybe I would do a tighter crop in my post-editing. During this process, while considering a title for the print, some pretty obvious symbolism emerged.
The upper flower is bright and pristine, at the peak of its beauty, while the lower blossom is wilting and fading. Then, I looked at my calendar and realized that August is almost gone, along with the joyful warmth and sunshine that defined this summer for me. The lower flower represents an ending of something that just a few days ago was bright and glorious, like the past few days of this summer. Time’s inevitable change is portrayed through an image where fresh and faded coexist.
It saddenes me a bit to say farewell to another summer, but I also realize that the faded flower’s role is not yet complete. It is heavy with seeds that will further mature, provide food for birds, and sow the next generation.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 79 mm
1/1377 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 100
“Sometimes, simple is the best option” – Ed Lehming
This scene presented itself to me this morning. Walking across the grass, I noticed this honey bee collecting sap for a dandelion blossom. The shot was simple to compose, and I was pleased with the first shot. Then, I got to editing and wanted to come up with something clever. Nothing seemed to fit, so I went with my first instinct and titled it “Yellow,” the simplest option and the one that came to me first. Sometimes, simple really is the best option.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 100 mm
1/1608 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 64
“Given the right conditions, even the commonplace can show surprising potential’ – Ed Lehming
Oddly enough, in contrast to yesterday’s post about the commonplace, the next image up in my library is this one, which is not commonplace at all. This sunflower, a volunteer, likely seeded by a bird dropping in the middle of my daughter’s vegetable patch, is a monster, over 4 meters (14′ for the non-metric) tall. It towers above everything else, with a base stalk more like a tree than a sunflower. High above, the blossoms are just opening. They too are big, but seem diminished by the plant that supports them.
It’s really hard to miss. My challenge in photographing it was to create some sense of scale, so I decided on this low angle shot to give it that look of hovering high above me, framed by a backdrop of wispy clouds. I think it works. I’ll have to revisit it soon to see how it has developed. I’m certain it has not stopped growing; the soil there is incredibly rich, having been a cow paddock for years before being converted into a garden.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 100 mm
1/638 sec, ƒ/2.8 ISO 20
“Even the most common, the familiar, the passed by, can show beauty when we just pause to appreciate it” – Ed Lehming 2026
I’ve made a practice of looking for beauty in ordinary places. We can’t always be in exotic locations, and every day is seldom perfect or jaw-dropping. Most of us live in places that are, or over time, become, commonplace to us. Given that this is often the reality, many years ago I set out to deliberately photograph the ordinary things I would normally pass by or take for granted as just part of the background.
This cottonwood tree, for example, stands by the path that carries me from the parking lot to a local beach. I have some very nice shots of this tree; given the right light and good framing, it is quite lovely. However, from this angle, as seen when leaving the beach, it generally seems a bit boring, and thousands of beachgoers pass it by without a second glance. But on this day, I decided to shoot it as it is, stripping away all the background color and distractions so that just the raw tree showed. I was amazed at what I normally would not see, consciously.
There is beautiful texture to the bark, creating an almost pencil sketch appearance when rendered in monochrome. There is a rough symmetry to the trunks as they rise and separate, and the smaller trees, generally overlooked, start to emerge from the background. Through observation, what was once unexciting begins to reveal so much more than I had imagined when I shot the image.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 35 mm
1/60 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 160
“There are days where it’s all just too much. Entitlement, arrogance, and selfishness have drained me. My only solace on these days is beauty from good days and the hope that tomorrow will be better.” – Ed Lehming
Ya, it’s been one of those days. I’m weary, tired of the nonsense of the world. Yet I’m determined to keep posting, even though I’m drained, knowing there are people out there, just like me, who are in search of some glimmer of hope, of beauty.
So, here’s today’s post: a simple composition from a few days back, along a lakeside trail where I noticed this simple, beautiful chicory blossom, not knowing just how much I might need it for a day like this, a reminder of what can be, if I can just push through the mental and emotional exhaustion.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/121 sec, ƒ/2.2 ISO 125
“There is a moment at the end of the day when the landscape seems to pause.” – Ed Lehming
This image from a week ago made me a bit philosophical. At first, I thought, “It’s just another sunset,” but there was something different here that I still can’t put a label on; I even struggled for a bit to find a title for the image. It may have been that pale pink haze that floats at the center of the photo. The last warmth of the sun glowed along the horizon, painting the distant sky in soft shades of gold and amber. Above it, the blue deepened, while scattered clouds caught the fading light, creating a delicate contrast between warmth and coolness. It’s like the whole spectrum is on display, all at once.
The field in the foreground had already surrendered to shadow. Its darkness draws the eye toward the horizon, where a pale patch of light remains—a final reminder that daylight has not quite disappeared.
Framed on one side by the silhouette of an evergreen, the scene feels both vast and intimate. Nothing dramatic is happening, yet there is something quietly powerful about it. Maybe it’s the thought that the wind may be moving through the field, clouds may be drifting overhead, but from this distance, everything feels still, paused.
Perhaps that is what makes twilight so compelling. It asks us to slow down and notice the brief space between what was and what is about to be.
For just a few moments, the day seems to take one last breath before letting go, leaving me with unanswered questions, yet at peace.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 14 mm
1/30 sec, ƒ/2.2 ISO 200
“It’s quite a thing, returning to a place that not long ago gave peace, and now surges with raw energy” – Ed Lehming
Those who have been following along over the past few weeks may recall the image that I titled “Solitude”. It featured a long curving beach, serene blue skies, and a gentle ripple on the water. I returned there yesterday with my daughter, her husband, and three of our grandsons.
I had been telling them about this wonderful place and sharing photos from my visit a few weeks before. It was a bit of an unsettled day, but we wanted to go fishing and get the boys out of the house to blow off some energy. This seemed like a great place, despite the threat of showers and what seemed, at least in town, to be just a “breezy” day. As we drove towards this spot, we noticed that the lake was looking pretty angry but continued along, knowing that this cove was a bit sheltered and we could fish at a pond adjacent to the beach.
When we arrived, the once idyllic beach looked like this. Despite being sheltered, the water was still being churned, and waves crashed violently on the shore. The boys had never seen the lake like this and thought it was “cool.” The raw energy of the lake was hard to ignore. Still, we were a bit sheltered, and as my son-in-law and I fished, the boys spent time collecting rocks higher up on the beach. This lasted for the better part of an hour, and we noticed the wind was picking up and the sky threatened rain. We looked across the bay and could see squalls forming and heading our way, so we decided to pack it in. As we were packing up the last of our gear, the island about half a mile from the shore literally disappeared from sight as the squall line hit it. We knew we were in trouble, and less than a quarter of the way back to the car, the skies opened up, rain and hail soaked us, all driven by gale-force winds that nearly blew us off our feet. This lasted almost all the way to the car, and just as it started, it ended. We were all soaked to the skin, and the kids were scared, having never been out in weather like this before.
As we dried off, sharing the one dry towel remaining, we all had a good laugh at our misfortune and wrote it up as yet another family memory. My one regret is that I did not stop to take a photo across to the “disappeared” island or video our scramble along the shore back to the car. It will only be a memory to us now.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 100 mm
1/485 sec, ƒ/2.8 ISO 50
“Closer, closer, see me in all my splendour” – Ed Lehming
Another macro shot today. This time, a garden cosmos from the front yard on a rainy day.
When conditions are not ideal, I’m still looking for things to photograph. A brief time of sunlight between rain clouds lit up my cosmos and led to this shot. I wanted something a bit different, so I got up close with my macro lens, focusing on the light shining on the base of the flower.
It still amazes me that the closer you focus on natural things, the more amazing the detail is. For that, I once more turned to my kit camera and macro lens, since the iPhone simply can’t achieve the depth of field I need for images like this.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP AF 90mm f/2.8 Di Macro 1:1 (272ENII)@90mm
1/3200 sec, f/5, ISO 640
“Every now and then, a composition that cannot be ignored presents itself” – Ed Lehming
I made this image a few days ago while on my evening walk. I’ve been watching this cluster of Echinacea develop over the past few days and then suddenly “pop.” What amazed me was that they remained almost pristine, with the exception of a few insect holes in their leaves; the flowers themselves were almost perfect. So much so that they look almost artificial. Had I not seen them myself, I would have been a bit dubious about the authenticity of the image. But they are real and remained that way for several days after the photo was made.
I’m happy to see this in nature. It reminds me that as a society, we don’t need artificial or AI-created images when often that pristine state actually exists in nature.
I was also blessed with really nice pre-dusk light, and the composition pretty much created itself.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 100mm
1/121 sec, ƒ/2.8 ISO 200
“As summer wears on, it’s effects start to show” – Ed Lehming
I was sitting on my porch a few days ago, and the gardens were filled with hungry butterflies. After a few attempts with my iPhone, I was reminded of some of the limitations that phone cameras, no matter how current, still have. One of those limitations is that I cannot effectively control the aperture; the phone does all the thinking, and I ended up with a bunch of photos where only a small portion of the butterfly was actually in focus—less than ideal for what I wanted.
So, I stepped inside and grabbed my trusty Nikon D800 and fitted it with my Tamron AF90 f/2.8 macro lens. I set my aperture to f/7.1 to ensure that my depth of field was sufficient and snapped this shot before the butterfly darted off to the next garden. This is one of the things I have found is hard to teach: the knowledge of how to shoot when a specific situation presents itself and knowing why, learned by me through trial and error (lots of trials and lots of errors). I also knew that since the butterfly was on the move, I had limited time, so the thought of focus stacking was never a consideration. It had to be a single shot at a moderate depth of field (aperture).
I was happy with the result, and it was not until I got to the editing stage that I noticed how beat up the butterfly was, with tatters and tears in its wings but still flying well. I suppose that a season filled with wind, rain, predators, and thorny branches must have an effect over time. The butterfly is much like many gardens this time of year, getting a bit weather-worn. It’s just another step in the cycle of the seasons. As I write this, there are fewer and fewer butterflies; the evenings are starting to cool, and the days are shortening. So, I’m happy for the moments that present themselves and always look forward to the next opportunity.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP AF 90mm f/2.8 Di Macro 1:1 (272ENII)@90mm
1/800 sec, f/7.1, ISO 650
“Summer winds down and the landscape switches palettes once more” – Ed Lehming
It’s hard to believe that we are now past mid-August, but the signs are everywhere; the days have gotten noticeably shorter, the evenings a bit cooler and damper, and the wildflowers that were blooming just a few weeks ago are gone, replaced by the late summer sunflowers and black-eyed Susans.
There is also a very noticeable change in the colors along my walking route. Pinks, whites, and purples are now replaced with bold orange and yellow. The late summer sun seems to bring out these hues so very nicely. It makes me a bit sad to think only a few more weeks of longer days and warm sunshine remain. I’ll miss it, but am hopeful for a repeat performance.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/430 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 80
“Moments define our lives. Some of those moments cause me to pause and marvel at the world we live in. Sometimes, it’s simple things like appreciating the sky at dusk in all its wonder” – Ed Lehming
Today’s image is a simple shot, a moment in time where I looked out across the horizon and saw something that stopped me in my tracks for a bit. I’m not sure just how rare these conjunctions of the moon and Venus are, but they sure are beautiful.
We were at my daughter’s farm and getting ready for an anniversary party. In the background, people were gathering and the band was warming up. I stepped away from the group and walked over to an open field to make this image. What surprised me was that nobody else really noticed it, caught up in chatter, food, and music. This felt like a moment just for me to enjoy.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 100 mm
1/11 sec, ƒ/2.8 ISO 1600
“Wind shapes our world” – Ed Lehming
I’ve become far more aware of wind lately. I first started paying attention a few years ago when I moved to Prince Edward County. The “county,” as it’s referred to locally, is an island on the northeast shore of Lake Ontario. Winds tend to blow in from the west, across the open water, and there really isn’t much in the way to calm them. So, I’ve found that there are some extended times when it’s just “windy” out.
There are other effects of the wind that I had not really needed to pay attention to. For the past two summers, we have been significantly affected by smoke from wildfires. I can’t say that I have any recollection of this in my lifetime. Perhaps it was not newsworthy back in the day, but it’s been pretty dominant here lately. Last summer, you could smell everything from “campfire” to “chemically,” depending on the nature of the fire itself and how long the wind held the smoke aloft.
Last year’s smoke came from northern Quebec, and the winds pushed the smoke westward and then south, which resulted in mainly orange sunsets. When it got really thick, there was a haze in the air and various smells. This year, the smoke came from northern Ontario, turning our skies an eerie orange, like something from a dystopian movie. It was quite unsettling, but we knew that eventually the wind would carry it off. The benefits of air movement became quite obvious.
But something I have really failed to appreciate is just how incredible the wind is at shaping our clouds and creating peaceful sunsets. The image I chose for today was taken a few days ago while on my evening walk. It had been a relatively cloudless day, but as dusk set in, a few clouds rolled in, and the wind worked its magic. It was not until later that I noticed the jet contrail, which surprised me a bit since we don’t get a lot of air traffic in our skies.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 24 mm
1/590 sec, ƒ/1.78 ISO 64
“Our summers abound with beauty, we just need to stop, from time to time, to really appreciate it, and with the right technology, take the memory home with us.” – Ed Lehming
This image astounded me and made me think about how we currently conduct our days, moving from here to there and seldom enjoying the journey itself.
I’ve driven past this meadow dozens of times recently and noticed the clusters of Black-Eyed Susans scattered through the field and thought, “Those might make a nice photo,” but then kept on driving. Well, I finally stopped along the road, quieting those thoughts.
The flowers were in small clusters and a bit of a distance from the road. Fortunately, my new iPhone 17 Pro Max, which produced most of my recent photos, offers a 200mm zoom option, which is why I bought it, and I was easily able to compose a few shots right from the roadside. I only went to 100mm to get the composition that I wanted, but I had the option to shoot tighter. It is yet another reason for my purchase since I don’t usually have my full Nikon kit with me while traveling from point to point locally. As they say, “The best camera is the one you have with you,” and I have had so many opportunities pass me by because I either didn’t have my camera with me or the phone simply lacked the reach and resolution I required. This device shoots 48MB RAW files with stunning color depth and clarity. I won’t be giving up my kit, since there are still a lot of things the phone simply can’t do, but it sure has opened up possibilities.
Which gets me back to my point about this image. The technological capabilities allowed me to make that stop a success. I got several nice images of the flowers and , armed with capable technology, had a reason to stop along the way to make it happen. It may make for a few longer drives, but I will now be more likely to capture moments that otherwise would simply be memories.
iPhone 17 Pro Max
Main Camera — 100 mm
1/220 sec, ƒ/2.8, ISO 40
Ed Lehming Photography 
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