“The play of light on the water was a sight to behold. In the background, dark storm clouds loomed over the lake, yet bright rays of sunlight on the storm’s edge caught the rolling waves and lit them up as if from within. But only for a moment, then it was gone, and darkness prevailed” – Ed Lehming
It’s moments like this that photographers dream of. The stunning contrast between the dark blue sky and the bright waves was astounding; a rare moment when the elements align. For much of the time that I was visiting this location, the start of the show was the churning lake. I got a few good shots of this, but suddenly the world before me turned to pure magic. It was like two separate worlds in one image.
I had no problem whatsoever naming this image; the wave was the most amazing bright green. Against the black sky, it was stunning. My biggest challenge was exposing the shot correctly. It took only two tries to get this image, and then the sun was gone again.
That is one thing that I’m constantly reminded of: great moments are fleeting, and it’s so critically important that the photographer is prepared to adapt and adjust instinctively. All those settings we need to consider: shutter speed, aperture, ISO, and focus must happen within seconds; there is no time to think about them without hesitation. I honestly attribute this ‘muscle memory’ to the countless failures that I’ve had—all those missed opportunities—that have taught me how to adapt to varying conditions because there are no second chances.
Nikon D800
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 260 mm
1/500 sec, f/11, ISO 400
On a stormy shore, a lone maple bears witness to the churning waves. This steadfast tree stands resilient, a symbol of endurance and beauty, unfaltered by the storm that rages on the horizon, reminding me, once again, of the power of nature and the tranquility that can be found even in chaos. – Ed Lehming
This image just beckoned to be rendered in black and white. The scene was intensely moody and a bit somber, encapsulating the essence of a winter’s day that felt both desolate and beautiful. Across the lake lies Oswego, New York, which looked like it was experiencing the full brunt of the January snow squall.
When I left home to visit the shore for some pictures, the sky was slightly overcast, and a few delicate flurries drifted through the air, giving me hope that my outing would yield some captivating shots. However, when I arrived at the lakeshore twenty minutes later, I was greeted by howling winds and raging waves crashing against the icy shoreline. It was completely unexpected, yet stunningly beautiful in its chaos. The energy of the storm, many kilometers away, was palpable, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration at being part of such a lively spectacle of light and dark. Which is another reason for presenting this in black and white.
A bonus during my visit was the occasional opening in the clouds, which allowed bursts of bright sunlight to break through the gloom, providing me with spectacular lighting for my photographs. Each moment felt like a new scene was unfolding just for me.
Due to the extreme cold and the relentless wind, I did not spend much time at the lakeshore, but I knew what I wanted as far as photos. I proceeded to shoot about 20 images, each one different from the last, capturing not only the landscape but also the ethereal quality of the winter air. This tree stood sentinel at the end of my walk, its gnarled branches silhouetted against the stark backdrop; it felt like the embodiment of resilience amid the harsh winter.
With my fingers frozen despite a warm jacket and gloves, I reluctantly headed back, already pondering the images I had captured and the stories they would tell. Sunday’s adventure, marked by the visceral encounter with nature’s raw beauty, will linger in my mind long after I returned home, reminding me of the magic to be found even in the most challenging of conditions.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 50 mm
1/200 sec, f/7.1, ISO 400
“As the storms rage over the lake, even the shoreline vegetation bears testimony to this often harsh environment, leaning over the frigid water, as if to brace for what is to come” – Ed Lehming
I’ve made a few photos from this very spot, but yesterday, as the wind howled over the waters of Lake Ontario, I noticed this maple tree, still bearing some dried leaves, leaning over the edge, taking in the full force of the western winds. What initially caught my attention was the leaves which seem frozen in time, caught in a perpetual breeze.
Beyond the tree is the rock-strewn shore, ice clinging to the slabs of limestone, and the deep turquoise waves pounding the shore. Further beyond lies Lakeshore Beach, bereft of summer sunbathers and also feeling the impact of the wind-whipped waves.
And immediately behind me, to further complement the experience, was the scene I that posted yesterday.
The whole scene opened up from that one glance at the leaves. I immediately saw a composition that captured that moment in time. All the elements work together to tell the story of this blustery day on the western shore of Ontario’s Prince Edward County and Sandbanks Provincial Park. It was not till I got home and started to review the images from the day that I noticed how nicely the orange of the maple leaves complemented the greens of the water and the beautiful structure of the rocks below. Once more, it’s one of those scenes that I witness that I know just works, but am not sure why until I spend more time with the image.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 24 mm
1/250 sec, f/8, ISO 400
“Water brings me energy. To see waves pounding, to feel the spray, and to taste it in the air is always an amazing thing. Water is a living, breathing thing, continually moving. I feel it in my soul.” – Ed Lehming
Today’s image is a break from the calm, serene beach scenes that I have been posting recently. Today’s image, captured in the same place that last week yielded gently rolling waves, has transformed into a dark and angry blender of rocks and pounding surf.
After all, it is now January, and Lake Ontario is not known to lay dormant for long. Today, as I left my house, I was anticipating dreamy seascapes, with gentle snow wafting down. Because, at my house, a mere 20 minutes from this location, there was no wind and the sky was a mix of sun and cloud.
Imagine my surprise when I pulled into the parking area and saw massive whitecaps breaking on the lake. That changed everything. I was excited to see the churning waves and frozen shoreline. There was nothing serene about it; it was pure, raging energy.
I walked along the shore to my regular vantage points, all transformed by the storms that raged over the lake, but not above me. Where I stood, sunlight broke through and lit up the water, to a point where the images I was previewing looked like paintings; the storm surge was just that intense. And in the background, black storm clouds, the squalls produced over Lake Ontario by cold north-west winds, were seen clearly on the horizon. This is winter on the Great Lakes; the lakes, with their still relatively warm waters, have not frozen over, and wind picks up moisture and turns it to snow in the form of intense squall lines.
Standing on the shore making this image was a glorious but bone-chilling experience. I loved the play of light on the horizon as the sun occasionally broke through. You can see the snow falling near the horizon on the left and the blue sky to the right. That is how fast the wind makes now.
The image is a bit darker and more brooding than my regular style, but I’m trying to stay true to my intent on accurately communicating the mood that I experience as I witness these scenes. I’m pleased with the results of my first excursion of 2025 and hope to share more over the coming days.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 24 mm
1/320 sec, f/9, ISO 400
“What appears to us as tenacity is often simply adaptation.” – Ed Lehming
This cottonwood tree, seemingly overwhelmed by the ever-shifting drifting sand, is not alone. These trees have adapted with a root system that allows for fluctuations in sand depth. I’ve seen the tree trunks several feet above the sand, as if the trees are on stilts, and one like this buried to an equal depth. The root wood adapts, becoming tougher and resembling inverted branches. The tree in this image is probably buried in about two to three feet of sand and may be quite exposed by next summer.
It’s interesting to observe this type of phenomenon; it’s all about nature’s amazing ability to adapt. Some species are more successful than others, and those are the flora and fauna of the dunes—the adapters, the survivors.
I had not noticed how deeply buried the tree was initially; I just saw an interesting composition. That is often the way of my photos. I see something subtle, something intangible, which often does not reveal itself until I spend more time with the image, and then it reveals itself and I understand. I believe that is the difference between a good composition and a snapshot: the ability to unconsciously distill details not immediately obvious.
Like the tree in the image, I’ve had to adapt some of my approaches to capture the subtleties of the dunes, which to many, especially at this time of year, would appear barren and lifeless.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 45 mm
1/250 sec, f/8, ISO 400
“Colour and movement danced before me as the waves wove a pattern of unexpected brightness under a winter sky, not yet locked in ice; they put on a final show for me.” – Ed Lehming
I love water. I love how it moves, the sounds it makes, and the constant sense of being a living thing. I also like to accentuate movement by adding movement of my own. Intentional Camera Movement (ICM) is a technique that I have used many times in forest scenes and a few seascapes. On this day, the light was subdued enough that I could get good results without adding neutral density filters or any other accessory to get pleasing images.
My hike among the dunes had concluded, and I drove the short distance to Lakeshore Lodge Point, still within Prince Edward County’s Sandbanks Provincial Park. One of the nice features of this point, jutting into Lake Ontario, is a shallow shelf of limestone that juts out into the lake. I find that the combination of rock, water, and moss creates some beautiful colour.
On this day, there was a slight breeze, which created shallow waves just tall enough to crest into low whitecaps, adding a touch of white to the palette. The way the waves crossed the rock and the backflow created this lovely weave effect that inspired the title of the image. After a few horizontal pans at low shutter speeds, I found I had the mix I needed to let the colours and movement of the water really show.
The tan that you see in the foreground is the limestone and a bit of sand, which switches to a deeper green as the water crosses a deeper point, then light green/aqua, before the lighter blues of the water further out dominate. There are also touches of lavender mixed in, which I can’t really explain, but they were there, and the longer shutter speed simply enhanced them, really complementing the greens.
What I really like about this technique is that every image is unique and unexpected, yet I can loosely anticipate the final outcome as I make the image, so it’s not just pure chance. Doing these handheld also adds some unpredictability and personalization to the shot. You’ll never get two the same. It’s kind of like a fingerprint.
I made about 20 images of the water movement that day and have only processed three so far, which I will spread out over a few days, but this is my favourite.
Nikon D800
Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G I AF-S VR Zoom @ 300 mm
1/4 sec, f/40, ISO 640
“The first real snows filled the gaps in the dunes, drifted snow covering the drifted sand. A seasonal change” – Ed Lehming
I’ve been enjoying reviewing the images I made several days ago. That day brought some significant changes to an established photographic method and style. To get the images to communicate the nature of the environment, I had to change how I communicated as well.
As those who follow this blog will know, I previously spent a lot of time on forest trails, in somewhat subdued or diffused light. Photographing sand dunes in wide open spaces is much different in appearance and camera settings.
In this case, I wanted to communicate the bleak and windswept landscape, which I found was better accomplished by slightly overexposing the image. Yet, I still wanted to show the important details of the frozen water in the foreground while muting the dull sky. I’m not a fan of high-key images, so I pushed my exposure slightly as I shot the scene and made some subtle adjustments in post-processing to balance the winter tones. I also wanted to retain the details of the trees, which are a key element of the shot and are what drew me to the composition initially. I also did not want to lose the shadows, which add some sense of structure and depth to the image. It was a bunch of fine-tuning in post that yielded the final image.
I think it works, as when I look at it on my screen, I feel like I am looking at it live all over again.
Where I did struggle a bit was coming up with a title for the image. So, I went for a mental note of the location. As I walked the frozen shore, this was the first gap in a continuous line of sand dunes and what struck me initially about eh scene was the snow drifting between this gap. Nothing else resonated with me. I also realized that this is a closer shot of a previously posted image. Seeing things in new ways has been an interesting experience for me.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 48mm
1/1953 sec, f/1.78, ISO 64
“Seasons blend on the now barren beach and grasses dance in the mix of sand and snow” – Ed Lehming
I’m continuing this series of images from December 2024 with this shot of the sand dune fringes. While the trees block the majority of eroding winds, it is the grasses that hold it all together. This variety of beach grass is known as Marram Grass Ammophila, and I never gave it much thought until my iPhone Photos app stated identifying flora for me. So, I spent a bit more time studying the grass and its place in the sand dune ecology.
Marram grass helps to trap sand and to build up sand dunes. Sand dunes provide natural protection for low-lying land and settlements, especially important in the face of water level changes and increased storminess due to climate change. Sand dunes help in maintaining water flows and supporting vital pollinators, such as bees and butterflies.
Marram, also known as Bentgrass or beachgrass, holds sand in place by its unique root structure. It’s not a simple root, like many other plants but a series of roots connecting tiered, horizontally spreading rhizomes that help it hold sand in place so well. Its unique structure also enables it to outpace sand buildup which would choke out other plants. And finally, the leaves are curled in, enabling the plant to retain water and be very drought resistant. It’s quite a fascinating plant and made for a good subject to photograph and learn about.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 62 mm
1/400 sec, f/10, ISO 400
A slight wisp of lake snow hangs in the air, the light mutes, yet color still shines through” – Ed Lehming
I’m continuing my series of images from Sandbanks Provincial Park. Over Christmas, I spent two days exploring various parts of this beautiful park. The days were cold and often overcast, with brief moments of subdued sunlight. It had snowed quite a bit before Christmas. Still, much of that snow had blown away. A bright dusting remained, letting some vegetation peek through.
This image was made along the western shoreline, in an area known as Lakeshore Lodge Point. There had at one time been a beautiful three-story building on the site. The original building was constructed around 1870. It was a major tourist attraction for visitors to the nearby sand dunes and beaches. The lodge, at the height of its popularity, even had a dance hall and swimming pool. It went through many different ownerships but was heavily vandalized and burned to the ground on Halloween 1983. It’s a shame that this is often the fate of historical buildings. All that remains here are concrete floor slabs and some foundation walls, and of course, memories of Lakeshore Lodge itself.
This has become a favorite place for me to visit because the shoreline has so many interesting features. My visit on December 26th was no exception. I treated the images consistently with my prior beach and dunes images. I left them slightly overexposed and soft to communicate the serenity of the place. What really stood out for me was the bright orange leaves of the small beech trees and the golden tone of the shoreline grasses.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 26 mm
1/60 sec, f/4, ISO 400
“I’m continually amazed at how subtle changes in light can transform a landscape.” – Ed Lehming
I’m continuing with my recent photo series of images made over two days at the local Sandbanks Provincial Park.
It’s a big change for my photo practice. I have spent the past thirty years surrounded by forest trails and deliberately sought out waterfalls. Sandbanks is completely different. It is a 15-minute drive from my new home. In my opinion, it requires a different photographic approach to capture its essence effectively.
This transformation in my technique began by chance. Those of you who have read my past few posts know this. My entire journey into photography started similarly. I simply discovered a new way of making and editing my photos that is more effective than my previous process.
For the sand dunes and seascapes, a subtle softness and less saturated image seem to communicate the ‘feel’ better. I found that my previous method yielded harder and darker images than what I was experiencing. The snow-covered sand dunes in this image, for example, did not communicate the cold December air. The predominant yellow grasses and bare tree branches were not shown effectively either. By slightly overexposing and adjusting contrast in post-processing, those important elements began to emerge. They brought me back to what I was seeing and experiencing at the time the photo was made.
My philosophy on photography is simple. I want to capture as much of a ‘moment’ as I can. I focus not just on the scene itself, but the entire experience of bearing witness to the beauty around me. Often, those elements are not immediately evident. I’ve made many images without a specific purpose. I sense some magic during those moments, which I perceive rather than see at the time. I try to make my audience aware of these unseen elements as well when I present my images.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 42 mm
1/250 sec, f/8, ISO 400
“Our views are influenced strongly by the past. Breaking the habit of the familiar is not easy, but opens up new possibilities” – Ed Lehming
The evolution of this photo has been an interesting exercise for me. Over the years, I have developed certain “styles” that I go to because the results are pleasing to me. However, I don’t believe that doing things the same way is necessarily a good thing. There is always room to “evolve” and to improve. Doing this requires us to get out of our comfort zone. I find myself very comfortable shooting certain scenes a certain way and processing my images a certain way.
A few days ago, I went out on a cold and dull December day, with the knowledge that I had a bit of a limited opportunity before bad weather settled in for several days. As I walked along the lakeshore at The Dunes, part of the local Sandbanks Provincial Park, I surveyed my surroundings and proceeded to shoot several images in my standard method.
I paused at one point to change my lens and took my sunglasses off for a moment. What struck me was how different the scenes appeared in the bright, unfiltered light. It was like I was seeing a whole different landscape, and I proceeded to shoot the images slightly overexposed to get the same effect. I have to say, I like the result. The images are somewhat subdued and subtle, not bright and colorful, which I usually prefer. The images capture more accurately the “feel” of the scenes that I photographed, which is more true to my photographic intent.
As I edited my photos, I began philosophizing, as I often do during this process. My photography has taught me many life lessons, as I spend intentional time interpreting my photos and letting the images speak to me. I’ve also been very deliberate in curating my social media feeds, weeding out as much as possible the negative content that is so prominent. I’ve completely exited Twitter/X, and am in the process of winding down Threads, which I had so much hope for. A friend of mine started on BlueSky and piqued my curiosity. On BlueSky, I have full control of what I see and don’t see. After a few weeks of self-curation, sans algorithms, my feed has become mostly very good photography, art, and thoughtful articles. I found that removing the negative also changed my overall outlook, which has flowed into my creative work.
I’m trying to move forward, informed, but not ruled by my past experiences. So far, it’s looking promising. I hope that shows through in future photos as well.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 46 mm
1/200 sec, f/7.1, ISO 400
“Snow, grass, and sand blend together in the winter sun. The beach, usually teeming with sun-worshipers, rests for the season. The grasses and weeds stand quiet among the coastal dunes, awaiting another summer. But for now, they rest.” – Ed Lehming
Still at Sandbanks Provincial Park and Outlet Beach, the most popular summer destination in Prince Edward County, is a place transformed in the winter.
There are still plenty of locals who frequent the beach in the off-season, but they were fairly scarce today; the beach ahead of me was wide open as I walked the 2.5 kilometers from the parking lot to Outlet Creek, the namesake of this beach.
The park has taken care, over the past few years, to block off sections of the coastal dunes to allow them to regenerate. There are posts and ropes, as well as signs to educate the public on the ecological value and sensitivity of this dune system. The dunes contain many rare and endangered plant species, which don’t do well with a lot of foot traffic. So, the park has carved out access points to the beach every 20-30 meters and roped off the rest. I do like this system because I can still enjoy the natural beauty without having to look over a fence. It seems to be working well, and many species are making a comeback.
Needless to say, it was a great day to be out for a walk with my camera, enjoying and documenting my surroundings.
This image, unlike my past few, was captured using my Nikon 🙂
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 24-70 mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 52 mm
1/250 sec, f/8, ISO 400
“In the flat gray light of winter, the familiar landscapes change their character. The summer sand becomes an icy vista, serene but raw at the same time.” – Ed Lehming
Above is another image made yesterday, Boxing Day in Canada, the day after Christmas. After a few days indoors feasting and celebrating, it was nice to stretch my legs and get in a few kilometers outdoors, hiking along the shoreline of West Lake, in Canada’s Prince Edward County.
The Dunes are a long series of high sand dunes that separate West Lake from Lake Ontario to the west. It’s a stunningly beautiful place in the summer, but for me, equally fascinating in the winter.
We had our first significant snowfall a few days ago, and the wind has sculpted that snow to match the sand dunes, which are barely discernible from the sand. Both sand and snow are equally bright, even on an overcast day like I had yesterday. It really struck me that the trees clinging to the dunes don’t look much different in the winter, except for the obvious lack of leaves. They still stand in stark contrast to the brightness around them. This became even more evident when I took off my sunglasses to change lenses. I looked up, and everything washed together in brightness, which inspired this photo, which is slightly overexposed to get the effect that I was experiencing. I would have exposed a bit more, but then I would have lost the subtle texture of the clouds behind the dunes.
This is also an iPhone photo, but I adjusted the exposure to get the effect. I do promise to share photos from my D800 over the next few days.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24mm
1/2352 sec, f/1.78, ISO 80
“There is a magic in new snow. There is a cleansing, and a freshness that transforms the landscape and, despite the cold temperatures, it warms our weary souls with its brightness and purity.” – Ed Lehming
It has been a while, many days of business and work, but I finally got out to create some images. Not just a few snapshots to say I’ve been photographing, but a deliberate time set aside to create.
It was not until today, the 26th of December, that I realized that it has been far too long since I set time aside to focus on an activity that I love to do. There have been many opportunities this year to capture some really wonderful images, but I had not spent much time, especially since spring, to spend a few hours outdoors truly observing and appreciating my surroundings.
I live in a beautiful part of Canada known as Prince Edward County (the County). It’s an area highly sought after for its wonderful rural life, wineries, arts, culture, food, and its famous Sandbanks. The Sandbanks are a naturally occurring feature that run along much of the west shores of the County. They are one of those things that leave you awestruck the first time you see them and then seem to be taken for granted after a few visits.
In the summertime, thousands of visitors flock to the County, specifically to visit Sandbanks Provincial Park and spend their time on the endless kilometers of soft sandy beaches and gentle breezes. It’s a very popular and busy place, so I tend to avoid it during peak times and prefer to arrive after the sun begins to send the sunburnt tourists starting to depart.
I have spent some time making photos here in the spring, summer, and fall, but rarely in the winter. There certainly aren’t any crowds here once it cools off, so I had them pretty much to myself.
The image above was made in an area appropriately named “The Dunes.” In this area, the sand dunes reach heights of 20-30 meters and are interspersed with a few hardy trees and shrubs. What makes for good photos is when the snow and sand mix, seeming to blend together. Today, when I made the photo, the day was dull and gloomy, and the flat light made for some really interesting black and white photos.
I used my iPhone for this particular image but had my full kit with me and will be posting those images over the next few days as well. Which also reminded me that I need to spend more time with my blog and sharing images and thoughts. That too has gone by the wayside for some reason. Time to get back to a bit more discipline.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24mm
1/2252 sec, f/1.78, ISO 80
“Endless seas of grasses wave and writhe in the wind, imitating the ocean just below; a dance of land and sea.” – Ed Lehming
Something that deeply resonated with me as I stood amidst the expansive, grass-filled plains above Estero Bluffs was the striking resemblance between the swaying of the grass and the adjacent ocean. It appeared as though the motion of the grass was an extension of the ocean’s own movement.
The grassy terrain is punctuated by apparent bare areas of rock and sand that, upon closer examination, reveal an abundance of low-lying wildflowers, as showcased in my previous post. It is a remarkably well-balanced ecosystem thriving in a challenging environment.
I was captivated by the grasses, which possess a notably distinct texture compared to the native grasses of my homeland. Furthermore, they made for a pleasing composition as the midday sunlight accentuated the green and yellow hues of the panicles.
As suggested by the photo title, this is Annual Beard-Grass or Annual Rabbitsfoot-Grass. Despite not being native, it has successfully established itself and dominates extensive areas along the Pacific coast of California. Its presence was noted by me at every stop we made.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24mm
1/4545 sec, f/1.78, ISO 80
“From the first moment I spotted it from far off along the shoreline, it invited me to approach and admire its beauty; a profusion of exquisite purple flowers spilling over the rugged cliff.” – Ed Lehming
For this image, I posted a high-resolution photo, so I hope it does not cause me problems. There is just so much detail that I wanted to be able to share it fully, without resolution loss or compression.
As my quote says, when I saw this amazing purple cascade, I just had to get closer and soak it all in. So many times, I’ll spot something like this only to realize it’s totally out of reach, like those California beach flowers, always clinging to some rocky cliff or across a water expanse. But here, I could get right up to it and savor all the little details.
The plant itself is Drosanthemum floribundum, also known as Rodondo Creeper or locally, “Magic Carpet”. The names all seem quite fitting for a plant that flows like a purple river over the sandstone bluffs, only in this one location on Moonstone Beach. The plant is native to the Eastern Cape of South Africa, but has been naturalized in several locations including Portugal, Australia, and Pacific Grove (just outside of Monterey) in California, about 2 hours north of this location. One cannot help but wonder if someone intentionally transplanted it here, given the striking similarity of the environment. Regardless, it thrives here, covering about 10 square meters of ground.
I was so impressed by the flowers that I overlooked certain peculiarities in the stone, specifically the unusual green patches, which resemble a type of copper oxide seeping out of the rock. I also failed to observe the numerous spider webs that appear so abundant now that I have the opportunity to examine the image more closely. Nevertheless, it was a delight to spend time admiring this exceptional and beautiful plant, and even more satisfying that I was able to capture a photograph that truly showcases its details.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @70mm
1/1600 sec, f/2.8, ISO 400
“Among the grand landscapes and broad vistas lie the simple and commonplace, which combined, make up those vast scenes. Often overlooked, they are beautiful in and of themselves.” – Ed Lehming
Something that I am ever conscious of, and often observing, is the humble scenes like this; a small cluster of plants creating something beautiful in their simplicity. This composition of the yellow flowered Beach Evening Primrose and the white Lappula Squarrosa immediately caught my attention as I strolled along the shoreline at Estero Bluffs State Park.
It’s these micro-scenes that I am reminded make up the larger landscapes that are more generally photographed. Looking at small compositions like this is very satisfying to me and allows me to take the time to recall when I and why I made the image to start with.
I have been very deliberate over the years to acquaint myself with the flora and fauna that I capture in my photographs, and I find great satisfaction in conducting research and expanding my knowledge about them. What truly captivated me in this instance was the abundance of small wildflowers thriving in this harsh environment. As evident from the image, the predominant features are the dry and tough roots, intertwined with resilient grasses that adorn the summits of these cliffs. Furthermore, the landscape is constantly battered by the wind and sprayed with salt from the ocean just a few meters below these rugged bluffs.
These sturdy, low-lying plants have evolved to withstand the relentless winds that sweep across this landscape, showcasing their resilience and adaptability. Their vibrant hues create a striking contrast against the predominantly yellow and parched grassland, infusing the environment with life and color. As I immerse myself in the natural world, I continue to deepen my understanding of the intricate balance and purpose that governs every element within this expansive ecosystem, reaffirming the significance of every living being within its own microcosm of the greater world.
I made this image with that in mind. There was a profound sense of connectedness, as if every element in the scene was intricately woven together. The composition unfolded effortlessly, exuding a sense of harmony and balance that felt remarkably natural. It’s important to me to appreciate as much of the environment in which I’m photographing as possible. It invokes the same connectedness for me as I witness when photographing them.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24 mm
1/2304 sec, f/2.2, ISO 50
“Just around the corner, just out of sight, wonders present themselves, but you have to have the courage to look beyond what appear as barriers, always anticipating something wonderful.” – Ed Lehming
That was the feeling the day I made this photo. This stretch of beach was just beyond an outcropping of rock. The tide was on its way in, and every second wave raised the water level. But I just had to see what lay beyond, so I carefully timed my passage and stepped around the corner to find this scene.
I’m not saying to throw caution to the wind. Nature can be very unforgiving and I’ve found myself in a few “interesting” situations. I always try to stay cognisant of my surroundings but photography can be almost hypnotic as I fall “into the moment”, totally engrossed in what I am witnessing. And while I thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful vista, I also kept an eye open behind me, to make sure I still had safe passage back the way I came. As you may see from the photo, while lovely, it would be an unpleasant climb out or a knee deep walk through the surf in my only pair of shoes. I only lingered a while, capturing this scene, and then ducking back around to the main beach.
What really stood out to me is the strong contrast between the bright stone and the dark, looming clouds over the ocean. It’s one of those moments when elements come together to make a photo memorable. I enjoy reviewing these images, because details emerge that were not consciously noticeable. For instance, I just finished talking about the rising tide. The evidence of the effects of the tide shoes in the image; you can clearly see the surf line on the beach and it had come in quite far just prior to me making this shot.
I was just talking with a fellow artist this past weekend about this subconscious sense of a good image, or painting. At a different level, I often “see” a scene as something special as I compose my shots. I’m rarely aware of just “what” makes it special, in the moment, I simply sense it. That “what” does not always materialize immediately, but the more time I spend with these images the more I begin to be able to extract it and become more aware of the elements that come together to make it happen. I’ve even had images that sat for years before I revisited them, and with fresh eyes, am able to draw those elements out, because they were always there, just not obvious at first.
I’d encourage my fellow photographers, travellers, dreamers, and adventurers to step beyond and consider not just the scene presented but why it resonates so strongly. I find it makes for stronger and longer lasting memories.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 14mm
1/6897 sec, f/2.2, ISO 50
“Bounded by ancient stone and lush green brush, the sea ebbs and flows in a timeless rhythm, advancing forward and drawing the land into itself.” – Ed Lehming
On the Pacific coast, just below the town of Aliva Beach is a public access spot called Avila Sea Caves. The parking area is just behind where this image was made. The draw of this place is primarily Smuggler’s cave, a large sea cave high on the bluff above the ocean. While the sea cave itself was interesting, it was so marked up with graffiti that it lost its appeal to me. I did make several photos but they really are not worth sharing here.
What did capture my attention was the rocky shore, covered with deep green foliage that seems to flow into the ocean just below the rocky bluff that separates them. Though lush looking, the vegetation is quite dry and prickly, filled with large groves of poison oak and hemlock. The scrubby vegetation stands about chest level on the average person and is so tightly interwoven that passage is nearly impossible. The only access is by a series of tight trails that wind towards access points to the shore.
In the distance, you can see the Avila Pier, originally built in 1908. The first pier in Avila, there were three at one point, was the Hartford Pier, built in 1873 by John Harford to facilitate shipping and trading along the pacific coast. This trade was to become an important part of Avila Beach’s economy, as the piers served to deliver oil to awaiting tankers. I keep forgetting just how important oil was to California at one point. I was surprised to find that this tiny resort town was at one point the largest crude oil shipping port in the world. Remnants of this legacy remain today. In fact, atop the hill to the right of the photo are the remnants many large oil tanks. The access road is blocked to traffic and is posted as belonging to and oil company.
Which gets me back to the timeless ebb and flow of the ocean, having borne witness to all these events, boom times and bust times, relentlessly caressing the shore. I always find it interesting when I research the locations where I photograph. I would never have expected to find such a rich history in this small beach town, on the shores of the mighty Pacific. Were it not for that piece of pier jutting out, I would think I was on a vast and unspoiled shore.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24mm
1/2809 sec, f/1.78, ISO 80
“How I see things, it’s important to me, often it’s a struggle to communicate that.” – Ed Lehming
On a recent trip to California’s Central Coast, we stayed a night in Avila Beach, a small and quiet beach community. It’s very picturesque and has an interesting history, which I may touch on in a future post.
The purpose of this post, is to share how I have been using AI tools, for several years now, to assist me creatively. A recent example of my use of editing tools is the two images above. The top image is a shot from my camera, carefully composed to include the elements that I saw and what first drew me to this scene. I wanted to show the rugged coastline, the beach, and the pier, with a splash of colour for the wildflowers in the foreground. It was a fairly pleasing image but I was also faced with a bit of dull cloud cover and the image did not do justice to what I saw.
Further, as I edited the original image, the “feel” of what I saw never materialized. If I pushed the colour settings, light, and vibrance, it began to look artificial. Yes, it was brighter and more colourful, but it did not feel true to what I saw. What I often do with images like this, rather than discard them, is to use a Photoshop Plug-In Called Topaz Impressions (now Topaz Studio 2), which offers me a series of “looks”. My prefered filters are the Impressionist brushes. This tool allows me to enhance my photo by overlaying AI driven brush effects. I use this tool unabashedly, because in my mind, it’s simply modifying an existing photo till the outcome is closer to what I envisioned when I made the photo.
There may be many traditionalists out there that will disagree, and that is fine by me. I have chosen to create art rather than simply documenting a scene. It’s pleasing to me, and produces something that I am proud to hang on my wall and enjoy. If I could paint well, I would use my images to inform my paintings, but I’m not quite there yet, and may never be. So, I get the outcome that I want, something that I can enjoy, and something that I can produce without spending hours agonizing over. It’s kind of like talking to an artist and telling them that what they painted is not what it looked like, unless the are photo-realists. Be patient, I’m talking in generalities here.
Paintings, from my experience, are all about what the artist sees, or imagines, communicated in the way that is pleasing to them. It’s the same for me, except I’m using a computer rather than a brush. I’m sure the same conversation happened when photography was developed. It became easy for the average person to create an image, simply by pushing a button.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24mm
1/13699 sec, f/1.78, ISO 80, f/1.78, ISO 80
“Even the most mundane and commonplace things that most take for granted are seen as beautiful by those who don’t have them.” – Ed Lehming
I love California poppies. I think, mostly because they don’t grow where I live. I expect to people who have them everywhere, they may seem as common as dandelions are to me. One of the things I love about travelling is finding new things and I do have an affinity for flowers.
This cluster of poppies was growing on the edge of the bluff that overhangs Moonstone Beach. At the tp of this bluff are many local plants, suited to the ocean shore environment. I found many of these plants to be dry and prickly, probably designed to protect them from the constant wind and salt spray along the Pacific shore. Among these plants are endless tangles of low scrub with a tightly woven canopy, providing excellent shelter for the numerous rabbits and California ground squirrels, to name but two thatI saw.
I selected a wide aperture in an attempt to isolate the poppies from the beach below. As with many of my photos, I did not notice the details of the beautiful wild grasses woven between the poppies until I started editing it. It may not be an eye catcher, thought it was to me at the time, but it’s a single moment in a series of wonderful memories of that day and I’m happy to have it.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 200mm
1/4 sec, f/25, ISO 400
“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
“It’s a strange thing, that an ending brings such joy. Sunsets draw people to the waters edge. It’s almost a time of reverence. Such beauty, different every day, and the calmness that ensues as light fades and bathes the worth in gold.” – Ed Lehming
I have to say, my visit to Moonstone Beach last month was an absolute pleasure. I have not been spending nearly enough time outdoors with my camera and being able to spend time in such a beautiful place was so refreshing.
I’m not sure we we often fall away from the things we love to do. For me, it was several factors, primary among those factors, I think, was selling our home of 30 years and moving to a new house we had purchased nearly four years ago. It simply took up a lot of time maintaining two properties coupled with the 2 hour drive back and forth.
I’ve been more deliberate about getting outdoors and making photos but the passion and pleasure of it, as well as writing about had waned a bit. Being in these beautiful places and being able to document them has re-inspired me, and I’m hoping to continue with this.
So back to my quote; I see this ending of the day as a beginning for me. Of all the photos I made during this recent trip, this one really brought thing back to life for me. It was a bit of a challenging shot for me, as I’ve been getting lazy with my iPhone that seems to make amazing photos all the time with it’s great dynamic range and Ai assisted processing. It’s hard to get a bad shot. But, It is also limiting in my ability to compose shots and managed depth of field and lighting that way I would want. An yes, I do have some control, over this, but not as much as I would like. On this trip, I took all my Nikon gear with me and was determined to get back to basics.
I spent most of the day walking the beach and photographing the waves crashing in and the local flora. I may still share these shots, but they are of more of a self-satisfying nature. At the end of the day, I made sure to be ready for the sunset, all my high end gear set up and at the ready. As the moment apprached, I took several shots with my Nikon and then a few with my iPhone. The iPhone won hands down on this shot with wide dynamic range, but the Nikon had far better clarity overall. However, to get an image that was representative of what I saw and how I saw it, is still requiring quite a bit of editing and It’s still not what I was hoping for. So, here’s the iPhone image.
I would be interested in hearing from my fellow photographers if this technology contrast is something you are experiencing as well. Rest assured, I’m not hanging up the DSLR any time soon!
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24 mm
1/1212 sec, f/1.78, ISO 80
“The constant wonder of natural things is that the closer you look, the more wonderful details emerge” – Ed Lehming
In my previous post I mentioned the unique character of the sand at Cambria’s Moonstone Beach and the fact that many people sat on the beach just sifting through the pebbles and setting “treasures” aside.
It turns out, that several California beaches have this name. Primarily due to a form of feldspar among the beach pebbles which is semi transparent and resembles what many considered moon stone. It was highly sought after as a semi precious stone.
The image above is a quick image I made of a handful of the beach pebbles. It’s quite a profile of local minerals: quite a bit of jasper, agate, and also quartzite. I can see why this beach was so popular with collectors of stones and that a lot of the current day collectors gravitated towards these particular varieties. The jasper, polished to a fine lustre, reminded me of the cacao beans we saw in Mexico, or red kidney beans. There was such a variety of shapes and sizes. The other thing that stood out was just how finely polished they were. Even dry, they still held their sheen.
I, of course, followed suit, and sat among the pebbles looking for specimens that I fancied and would take home with me as a souvenir of this wonderful place. It was such a simple act, just sitting there, focused on the pebbles and listening to the pounding surf. It was quite magical and evoked childhood memories of taking joy in a simple acts.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 13 mm
1/2212 sec, f/2.2, ISO 50
“I feel at my best near or on water. The ocean can be both serene and energetic at the same time and I feel at peace with this seeming contradiction. Be it pounding surf or gentle ripples, the energy of water flows to my core” – Ed Lehming
I’m sticking with the Central Coast of California for a while. It’s a region that is relatively new to me. It has its own “feel”. It’s between two large urban centres, namely, Los Angeles to the South and San Francisco to the north. Between these two cities lie miles and miles of rugged shoreline, filled with their own unique flora and fauna.
We had hoped to drive the Coast Highway (Highway 1), but as has happened many times in the past, parts of it had literally fallen into the ocean. If you have ever driven it, you would know why. It’s and old highway built into the loose sandstone of the central California coast. The Pacific shore is frequently battered by big storms that, over time, erode the bedrock beneath the highway.
In places, like Cambria, the shoreline is a series of short bluffs and wildflower meadows, with the occasional small beach. Moonstone beach, pictured here is typical of this shoreline. The land is filled with tough and dry looking vegetation and an incredible diversity of low lying flowering plants as well as some tall Cypess trees. Cambria has done an excellent job of providing access to the ocean vistas be means of a beautiful walkway that runs along the shoreline. There are also many access points where you can get down to the beach itself.
From this vantage point, the beach looks like a typical sand beach, but on closer observation, this beach is made up of small polished stones that feel like ball bearings when you walk on them. A difficult and unexpected walk to say the least. This fine gravel transitions into larger sea-polished stones as you get further up shore. The colours are magnificent and I saw many people just sitting on the beach sorting and collecting the. All the while, the surf that created this unique beach continued to pound in relentlessly.
I walked up and down this beach simply enjoying the scenes presented to me, including some wonderful tial pools, filled with life of their own.
iPhone 14 Pro Max back triple camera 24mm
1/1212 sec, f/1.78, ISO 80
“There are details in the darkness, if we just care to see” – Ed Lehming
Here I am, back at blogging. It’s been a long time and there have been many changes along my journey through life and I felt that now was an opportune time to get back into sharing my images and thoughts about them.
To start, I wanted to share an image I made last week, while standing above a beach near Cambria, California. We had stayed overnight in the town itself and were heading to visit Hearst Castle. On the way, we stopped at Ragged Point, California, near the Piedras Blancas Light Station, to see the huge colony of Elephant seals who use this beach as a birthing ground. I’ll share more about that experience in a future post.
As I was approaching the lookout, I happened upon this large crow perched on a post above the beach. It was the perfect shot and it just sat there, giving me lots of time to compose the shot. When I got home and began to process the image I was astounded by the amount of detail that emerged from the black plumage and the way the light played on its wings. It made me even more aware of my photographic process, whereby I will often photograph things that I find interesting bu, at the time, am not fully aware of why they strike me that way. THis is a great example of that. What at first appears as a plain black bird is filled with beautiful textures and light catches. I spend longer than I expected processing the image, simply enjoying the process and the structures that emerged as I spent more time with the image.
It may not appeal to everybody, but it has become one of my favourites, a photo I will return to time and again, to simply observe.
The title of the image, simply came to me without much though, as well as the quote I associated with it. There is a deeper significance to me as well.
Back in January, I awoke one morning with vision problems in my right eye. I did not think much of it at the time but as the week continued, it did not improve and I went to my eye doctor to see what was going on. It turns out that I had Non-Arteritic Ischemic Optical Neuropathy (NAION for short). Basically an eye-stroke that caused permanent partial blindness in my right eye. The cause remains unknown and I don’t have any of the typical conditions that cause it. Needless to say, as a photographer this was of great concern till I realized that I use my left eye when photographing and my brain fills in the blanks pretty well when I’m just looking at things, working, or editing photos.
What it also did was rekindle the desire to take in as much of the visual world as possible and make me truly grateful for the vision that I do have.
So, the title quote has a bit more significance to me. There are details, indeed, beauty, in the darkness, we just need to keep looking for it.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 200mm
1/250 sec, f/8, ISO 400
“Hillsides filled with vineyards and olive groves. Tuscany was just as I had imagined it, a sheer pleasure for the senses.” – Ed Lehming
The quote for the above photo is quite simple and to the point. For years I have dreamt of visiting Italy’s Tuscany region. I’ve seen photos online and in magazines and movies. It seemed like a paradise; a place where time stood still and you could almost hear the whispers of the past echoing through the hillsides.
We finally had our opportunity last September, just as the world began to travel again in a post-COVID era. The trip had been planned for years before, but never happened, and then the world came to a screeching halt, and nobody travelled. During this time, we were determined that we’d make this our first destination. With our travel companions, and cousins, we planned what we would do in our two week vacation. Firenze (Florence) and the Tuscany region where it is situated were first on the agenda.
One of my “bucket list” items was to ride a Vespa through Tuscany, that dream happened and our three hour ride through the countryside south of Firenze provided me many opportunities to stop and enjoy the scenery, and capture some of those moments with my camera.
One such occasion resulted in this photo, looking at the rolling hills just southwest of the town of Impruneta, in the heart of the Chianti region. The view was just as I had imagined it and this image brings me back to the moment I made it. The region is filled with rolling hills, forested valleys, vineyards, olive groves, and quaint villages where time seems to stand still. Seeing it, unobscured and close up from our Vespa was simply breathtaking and a memory that I will always cherish.
We ended our Vespa ride at two local wineries where we shared a delicious meal and wine with the people we had met on the tour, learned about the history of the regions, and toured a wonderful Medici estate.
iPhone 12 Pro @ 52 mm
1/2282 sec, f/2.0, ISO 25
“There is a joy and adventure in travel. Each new road opens up new possibilities and adventure. – Ed Lehming
There is something wonderful about discovery, even in seemingly barren places like the interior plains of western Iceland.
I made the photo that inspired this digital painting during a trip to Iceland with my son in October of 2018. The landscape, like much of Iceland, is simply “raw”. We had been driving southward for most of the day and decided to venture inland toward the very visible glaciers northeast of the town of Borgarnes on the east coast.
The landscape is barren and windswept, with the exception of towns and farms along the Hvitá River, which we followed inland. The contrast between lush green farms in the river valley and the jagged lava fields is remarkable. As during much of our travels, the road was covered with a thin layer of snow.
We travelled inland as far as we could go safely. Iceland has many interior roads which are closed to vehicles during winter months and our car rental contract prohibited us from venturing onto these “F” roads. When we got near the vast glacier fields, still some 30 kilometers to the glacier itself we realized that our planned route was not accessible and we’d have to turn back to the way we came. We parked the car for a bit and spent some time enjoying the beauty of this relatively untouched wilderness of blasted rock, ice, and numerous glacial streams that eventually join up to form the Hvitá.
On the way back, we found this great vantage point, where the road ahead just snaked off into the distance. The photo shows a large mound of volcanic rock, a vestige of an ancient volcano, the Hvità valley, and distant lava fields that make up the north face of the valley.
It was a beautiful scene, so vast and untamed that the image does not do it justice. As I stood there making the photo I felt very serene and just drank it all in, letting my vision drift down the road, into the distance.
Somehow, as is often the case with photos, it did not communicate this feeling very well and I was determined to bring life to the image.
Over the past few months I have been playing with the image with several of the brush tools available in Photoshop, trying to pull out some of the textures and colours that I perceived while I stood there. The resulting image was satisfactorily completed yesterday and as I look at it, the feelings I experienced nearly five years ago are flooding back. I thought I’d take this opportunity to share it as well as the story of its creation.
iPhone 7 @ 28 mm
1/2817sec, f/1.8, ISO 20
“As in sunset, we are reminded of what came before. The whole day culminating in the setting of the sun. There is peace in this reflection; the beauty and joy of what, essentially, is an ending, reminds us that there is immense joy in pausing to consider all that came before, and the promise that there is a tomorrow.” – Ed Lehming
On January 11, 2023 I said goodbye to my sister Carrie. After a long battle with cancer, she is finally at peace.
I’ve had conflicting emotions on her passing and it has taken me some time to consider these emotions and try to put them to words, without rambling on. On one hand, I know she is at peace and her pain has ended, on the other hand, on the day of her passing, I was on vacation with my family in Cozumel, enjoying beautiful sunshine and making memories.
The sunset image above was made on the day she died. So much like Carrie’s life, slowly fading away and leaving me with beautiful memories and a sense of peace. I had been given the news of her passing earlier that day. On that same evening, I sat on the beach, imagining Carrie sitting beside me, listening to the waves lapping on the shore, the warm sun on our faces, and fully enjoying this moment together, in silence, one final time.
I was able to spend a few days with her in late November, knowing there was no happy ending or miracle to be found. We spent some wonderful days together, recalling shared memories; all the good times we experienced together. Fortunately, during this time, the symptoms of her combined lung and brain cancer did not adversely affect her and we laughed and cried together about the paths our lives had taken.
My mind constantly returns to the exact moment when she called me to let me know she had been diagnosed with colorectal cancer. I was on a hike in the forest when my phone rang and was happy to catch up her in this peaceful place. The news hit me hard, I was simply expecting an idle chat, as we have been in the habit of doing from time to time, catching up on each other’s day to day routine. For her, what began as what she assumed were digestive problems, escalated to something far more severe. Despite this devastating news, she remained positive and intended to take it one day at a time.
She also saved my life, by insisting that I get a colonoscopy, since this type of cancer can be hereditary. Sure enough, a pre-cancerous polyp was discovered and successfully removed.
Her tumour was successfully removed but had already metastasized to her lungs. Next came several rounds of chemotherapy, which made her feel terrible, but she persevered, always expecting a positive outcome. After many treatments, things never really got better.
Knowing there was no turning back, I went visit her in November, not quite knowing what to expect. It turned out to be a great visit for both of us, sharing memories of family times, the time we first met (I was adopted and did not meet her till we were both in our 30’s), discovering all our similar interests and simply building a relationship.
I clearly recall my time with Carrie and other family members, whale watching in Cabo San Lucas a few years back. To be able to share our love of nature and the water while witnessing the humpback whales breaching will always be my fondest memory of my sister. There was such a shared joy in sharing this moment that I can’t find words to define it other than sacred.
When we parted, with many hugs and tears, we both agreed that this was not the time for goodbyes, partly because we did not want to confront that inevitable truth. Rather, we parted with, “Till we see each other again.” Somehow, the thought of that wonderful day made the parting a bit easier for both of us.
I’m sure that I will continue processing my emotions. I feel a deep sense of loss but also joy that I was able to spend even a few years with this precious soul. Her smile, her laugh, and sense of humour will forever be part of me. Carrie and I simply ‘connected’. We shared many of our more personal experiences, found our similarities, and differences, but never questioned our bond.
My dearest Carrie, I will always hold you in my heart, taken far too soon, travelled paths that would have made many of us quit, but loved by all who knew you. Finally, the time has come to say goodbye. I love you, and will continue to love you in my memories, for as long as I am given. Until we meet again, I will see your bright smile in the sunset, hear your laughter in the rustle of the leaves, and feel the warmth of your love in the gentle summer breezes.
Your Brother Bear,
Ed
xoxo
Rest in Peace
Carrie Abbott
Dec 1, 1966 – Jan 11, 2023
“It all starts with a faint green ‘flush’. As the gnarled old vines awaken once more, the first hint of future bounty appears in the form of delicate clusters of bright green.” – Ed Lehming
Spring in Napa is a glorious time. As the spring air and sunshine warm the valley, the entire valley floor fills with delicate greens as the countless vineyards stir with life.
I especially like the old vines, and the wines they produce. I this image, the vines are at Grgich Estates. I believe these may be Chardonnay vines, but I’m no expert and did not pay attention as I was making the photo.
We spend late morning at this iconic and established vineyard, enjoying a series of tastings of their renowned Chardonnays and Cabernet Sauvignons. It was Miljenko “Mike” Grgić who helped put California on the world wine map with his Chardonnay in the mid-seventies when his Chardonnay took top prize in the Paris Wine Tasting of 1976 . “Mike’ is now 99 years old and is still active in the operation the the winery. The story of the Paris tasting is depicted in the movie Bottle Shock. Grgich was the winemaker at Chateau Montelena at the time but is not in the movie, because he did not want to be part of it. It was not till my first visit here some ten years ago that I discovered that part of the story.
It’s a great piece of Napa’s history and the winery continues to make great wines. It’s always fun to visit wineries where much of the production come right from the immediate property, though Grgish owns some 366 acres of vineyards throughout the valley, which allows for many different taste profiles. It’s a great spot for fine wines and offered me the opportunity to enjoy the vines up close.
Nikon D800
Tamron SP 70-200mm f/2.8 Di VC USD @ 112 mm
1/1000 sec, f/4, ISO 400
Ed Lehming Photography 
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