The words of prophets can be found in the old testament, but also on a side street in old town Flagstaff, AZ. While traveling throughout the southwest last summer, we decided to stay overnight in Flagstaff. The town was abuzz for the 4th of July. After the local, small town parade, we ventured the side streets, as often the real feel of a town can be found along the cracks and fissures of old brick and adobe. My camera was not disappointed, as these painted prophets, created by an unknown artist, delivered their sermon with silent power.
A slight breeze of air easily tuns the odd shaped windmill inside the Botanical Gardens, located in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. The bronzed saucers capture the winds, allowing the structure to turn with harmony. Within the gates of the gardens, the poetic windmill rises above the velvet bouquets of floral beds. During the days, the gardens are alive with visitors, and warm summer months bring free concerts that can be enjoyed by spreading a blanket on the manicured lawns. True love is witnessed by those who attend blessed weddings inside the garden. The Yampa Valley, once home to the Ute Indians, is as mysterious as it is beautiful. To all who pass through this magical valley, the "curse" is that once you witness this beauty, your heart will always yearn for the mountains, the rivers and the breeze of fresh air.
Days like this are spell-binding. Pacific Coast Highway, Hwy 1, "PCH" is mesmerizing on a warm summer day, where you can see the islands, catch a wave, and maybe grab a bowl of chowder at Neptune's Net. Tourists and native Californians alike yearn for the classic coastline experience, and on this particular day, we were fortunate enough to have it all.
My father in law, Peter J. Gartlan, was a unique man. He was simply a kind person. He was also Irish. And as with any Irish man, he had the gift of craic. He told stories that left the audience in stitches. I had the luxury of spending a few afternoons with him, alone. Well, not alone as in solitude, but rather without his wife or 4 kids. We graced the YMCA pool with our champion Olympic strides, and then got serious with the down & dirty of Peter holding court. He had an audience of blue hairs. You know, little old ladies, with swim caps, bright and bold floral swim suits, eager to make a boyfriend. Peter, utterly devoted to his wife, seemed to be in his element when regaling the Blue Hairs Club with his Irish banter. It was as if we were attending some garden party, but with a pool instead, and Peter was the guest speaker. Nothing was ever out of mean spirit; Peter was a genuine person without an ounce of malice. He loved everyone, and people reacted to his dynamic and larger than life personality. When Peter passed away on a rainy night in March, 1995, a little part of my heart went with him. Peter was simple, kind, magnetic and most of all, the Leader of the Blue Hairs.
John A. McArthur - Remembering Peter
City light, city bright. Schisms between hot urban concrete and desert sands are evident in the "Valley of the Sun". The inferno though, offers no division - 115 degrees feels the same, no matter your location. Giant Palm trees can be found lining city streets, offering shade for the concrete jungle. You might think you're in hell once a wave of desert heat hits your face, but to desert rats, Phoenix, and it's surrounding geography, nothing is laconic. The desert surrounds you, and within the scorching amphitheater, you are apt to find an abundance of swimming pools, water fountains, golf courses and sweat. Camelback Mountain,(2704 elevation) rises to the north of downtown Phoenix and Mount Suppoa,(2690 elevation) rises to the south. While Camelback offers the adventurous hiker brilliant red rock trails, South Mountain is home to copious groves of cacti. Enormous Haboobs tear through the landscapes, leaving a crust of sand on everything it touches. In late June through August, the monsoonal rains offer respite and the parched earth is soaked with moisture. While some might consider the heat of Phoenix akin to Dante and his inferno, in reality, the city and surrounding areas are alive with a multitude of flora, fauna and fantastic desert life.
Phoenix in July. I must have been crazy. Temperatures hovered near 100+ as I shot this picture late in the evening. The tall cactus that decorate Arizona, are unique; no two are alike. Saguaro, Cholla, Prickly Pear. The Suguaro pictured here was well over 20 feet tall. They stand as sentries, dotting the desert floors and hills. With the arrival of spring, the cactus don brilliant, elaborate pink, yellow, purple, red and green blooms. What have these sentries witnessed throughout their steadfast posts? Apache, Hopi, Yavapai, and many more Indians claimed this land as theirs. From 1860-1865, the state was alive with Gold fever. The cactus have etched a spot in Arizona's rich history, living up to 150 years. At this time, they are also a protected species in the state's abundant plant life. Last, but of critical importance, beware of the thorns!!
Rustic. Sagacious is the antiqued iron nail. To gaze upon this grainy and well worn piece of wood, I wondered the purpose of this nail. Perhaps it was only to adorn the wooden slab with a hint of true grit. Such is the life of well-worn western days, old outbuildings, barns, and pioneer ghosts, who experienced the wild ride of adventure, 100 years ago.
A picture is worth a 1000 words, or so they say. Alas, my friends, what do we have here? Our dog Casey has taken to being a back seat driver, with a touch of side driving, too! It's as though this clever canine gal has found a way in which to assist with navigation. My wife is quite the winter driver. Who would have thunk that a born & bred Southern California beach gal would have virtually no trouble on snow packed, 2 lane, mountain roads, with almost zero visibility? She will attest the ability comes from battling the rain soaked Pacific Coast Highway commute, or the perils of the San Diego & Ventura Freeways on a Friday, just about 6p.m. The dog adds to the picture, and my wife obliges me the shot, by leaning forward so that we can depict just how AAA road tested our dog has become.
Layering. Flaming Gorge, in eastern Utah, provides a wealth of settings for amateur and professional photographs alike. With high hopes to camp during the weekend trip, the weather dictated a different itinerary - thus a hotel room in nearby Vernal, Utah. 12 hours earlier, I was perched near this tree, shooting the opposite direction, seizing the equally invoking sunset. Realizing the fortuitous array of sunrise hues, I returned to this tree, and rotated my tripod east, to garner the sunbeams as they crested the tips of the Wasatch Mountains and Flaming Gorge. As is perceptible, the Utah sunrise delivered double digit layers of colors for the camera lens. Single digit temperatures did not dissuade me, as the sunrise and its beauty were worth the adventure.
The Bay of Fundy, located in St. John New Brunswick, Canada is known for having the highest tidal rage in the world. A whirlwind trip of 40 hours, I was able to break away from my business trip to capture some of the beauty of this Canadian port. As can be seen in the picture, the coastal clouds gave us a respite from the mid May weather of rain, but not the brisk wind. Walking along the boardwalk on this May morning, the seagulls offered me suggestions as to what would make the perfect picture. After all, the gulls are the year round residents to a port that provides tourism as well as industry.
The long strides of this handsome red master proved a test for me to capture on film. Both horse and photographer had a mission; Horse, to escape being photographed and me, determined to get just one shot. I'd say it was a draw.
Do you ever wonder what a murder of crows, hanging out on fence posts, on a lazy summer day might be discussing? This murderous panel were found perched like supreme court justices, perhaps debating what news was coming from Steamboat Springs. I was driving along the back side of Steamboat Lake, looking for horses, and discovered the crows, one by one, side by side. As a photographer, one of the great experiences of searching out the perfect shot, is often times, you needn't look much further than the end of your lens.
Does the tall grass offer enough safety? Wildlife can't help concealing their natural curiosity to sights, smells and sound. This young buck, grazing the summer grass, looked up for only a moment. Was it me that disrupted his symphony of silence, alerted by the sound of my camera? On this particular day, I was invited to share in nature's concert; with a front row seat at this deer's dinner table.
Looking at the vastness of Colorado National Monument, located near Grand Junction, Colorado, a photographer never gets bored. The Monument, established in 1911, provides picturesque and 360 degree panoramic views. Ambling along the many hiking trails easily provides a wide variety in which to shoot all that is quintessential Colorado. This photograph provides not only juniper trees, but rock monuments and a far off glimpse of the Book Cliffs. Perfectly placed grey, silver and billowy white clouds give impressions of unbounded and ever reaching scenery that is part of the true Colorado experience.
Aspens, like most trees, are mesmerizing. They stand as prodigies to nature, ever watchful of their surroundings. Poets and lovers alike have etched their graffiti prose on the trunks of these old sentries. Every tree top sings adulation towards the heavens above.
Shooting forests in late spring and early summer can be a challenge. Deep heavy snows in the high country might have melted, but you can never be sure. This day, however, was favorable to the camera and photographer alike, as is evident by the green grassy ferns sprouting up on the forest floors.
Mother Nature, as you can see in the right side of picture, was pleased, as she is giving me the eye of approval.
From Scottish-Gaelic origin, Cairns are man made mounds, constructed mostly of rocks. These rock towers have a long history throughout prehistoric and modern times. A recent early morning Christmas hike to Mesa Arch, in Canyonlands, Utah, found me waiting for sunrise, and the perfect light. To keep warm, I wandered the desert-scapes, on the hunt for all things extraordinary. These little mounds can be found throughout hiking trails in America, as well as the world. Big or small, tall or short, cairns give the hiker an ability to keep from straying too far off the beaten path; unless that is actually the intention. The next time you wander the paths of the world, keep an eye out for the cairns, and maybe leave small rock of your own - a way to let Mother Nature know, "I was here".
Appropriately named Echo Park, within Dinosaur National Monument, this little piece of solitude located in the northwest corner of Colorado offers the visitor not only the opportunity to see archaeologists toiling away, revealing fossils, but also peace. Once considered one of the quietest places on earth, Echo Park is a daydreamers' utopia. This photograph was taken on a late spring day, just after sunrise, when nothing stirred but a cooling breeze whispering through the dried summer grass and billowed clouds.
Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey, Look out on a summer's day, With eyes that know the darkness in my soul. Shadows on the hills, Sketch the trees and the daffodils, Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land. (Lyrics by Don McLean)
Taken on our nephew's farm, in Lily, Kentucky, this photo seems to speak of Vincent Van Gogh's gentle painting, "Starry Night" - or at least that is what my wife thinks - as she grew up in a household surrounded by Van Gogh's paintings. Van Gogh's tortured soul seemed to resonate through his brushstrokes.
I'm not sure what I was aiming for when I shot this photograph. However, after listening to Don McLean's song, "Starry, Starry Night", I, too, believe that perhaps Vincent Van Gogh might have found favor in the subtle blues depicted in a lonely, quiet Kentucky night's starry sky.
The escalator is a nifty invention. So is laziness. On a recent trip to Kentucky, I stood above the concourse at DIA, and gazed down, watching travelers hurry to catch their planes. Some are willing to walk the long concourses, while others wish to give their weary feet, and over stuffed carry on luggage, a brief respite. The idea of charging passengers for luggage, has given way to more people cramming their lives in a small bag, and calling it "carry-on". Women seem to have the advantage; a purse. Men can resort to a Seinfeld-esque European carry-all. Either way, the escalator is God's gift to the frequent flyer, a mom with 4 kids and a stroller, a little old lady, or a photographer seeking out life's little oddities.
This past summer found us in Flagstaff, AZ over the 4th of July holiday. The town offers a variety of sights, with a hint of both great western history and an eclectic mix for the vagabond or Bohemian traveler. While walking the streets of old town Flagstaff, you can venture to the train yard, once named the LeRoux rail yard and catch a glimpse of a retired engine. The mighty Atlantic and Pacific railroad companies once ran through Flagstaff, Arizona, delivering ranchers, cattle and sheep, avoiding the raids from the mighty Apache Indians, delivering tourists to the Grand Canyon, and also to the state's former capital, Prescott. Close your eyes for a moment, and imagine yourself a part of the old west, and the adventures that follow.
Walking around North Routt County, Colorado, Mother Nature provides a wealth of photo opportunities. Every season offers an abundance of colors to entice the eye. While winter, spring and summer will enthrall a visitor, it is fall, in all its' glory which draws photographers to the beautiful Rocky Mountains and Routt County. Whether an amateur with a point and click disposable, a cell phone camera or a professional, all nature lovers can step out of their every day routine and find themselves - really find themselves and their spirit whilst walking the golden path of fallen Aspen leaves. A mere glimpse upwards will give you pause; swearing that you are really in heaven, or at the very least, believe in a higher power.
