Stay Long Enough

August 23rd, 2026

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Yesterday morning didn't exactly go as planned.

I got up early, gathered all my gear, drove out before sunrise, and then realized I'd forgotten my memory cards.

Not exactly the best way to start a morning of photography.

There wasn't much I could do about it at that point, so I stayed and watched the sunrise. And honestly, it was beautiful. I enjoyed being out there, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bummed that I couldn't photograph any of it.

So when I headed back out the next morning, I was definitely eager to try again.

I got there before sunrise, while the trees were still mostly silhouettes and there was just a little bit of pink starting to show along the horizon. The crickets were still going, and a thick layer of fog had settled over the fields.

I didn't really have much of a plan.

I just started walking.

The farther I went, the more the morning started to change. The sky went from pink to purple and blue, the fog hung over the fields, and eventually the sun started breaking through the trees.

It was just a really nice morning to be outside.

I found a couple of woodpeckers high in the trees. I stopped for a spider web covered in moisture and found a spider sitting right in the middle of it. I walked the paths, crossed the bridge, watched the fog, and just took my time.

And honestly, I would have been perfectly happy if that had been the morning.

But just about the time I was getting ready to wrap things up, I started noticing American goldfinches.

Goldfinches aren't exactly rare around here, but for whatever reason they've been pretty good at avoiding me when I have my camera. I've seen them plenty of times, but getting photographs of them that I've actually been happy with has been a different story.

So, of course, I stayed a little longer.

I watched them move around the tops of the trees and finally had a few opportunities to make some photographs.

Then, while I was still hanging around, I noticed a hummingbird moving through some nearby flowers.

At that point, I definitely wasn't leaving.

I watched it make its way from flower to flower and tried to keep up with it through the camera. Eventually it flew over to a branch and sat there for a little while, giving me another chance to photograph it.

Standing there after everything that had happened over the previous two mornings, I couldn't help but laugh a little.

The day before, I'd gone out hoping to make photographs and forgotten the one thing I needed to actually do it.

This morning, I really didn't go out looking for anything in particular. I was mostly just grateful to be back outside with a camera that actually had memory cards in it.

And somehow, just as I was getting ready to leave, the goldfinches showed up.

Then the hummingbird.

It almost felt like nature had saved the best for last.

Maybe that's part of what I enjoy so much about mornings like this.

You really don't know what you're going to find.

Sometimes it's a great sunrise. Sometimes it's fog hanging over a field. Sometimes it's a spider web you probably would have walked right past if you weren't paying attention.

And every once in a while, just when you think you're done for the morning, a goldfinch or a hummingbird gives you a reason to stick around a little longer.

I don't think yesterday was a wasted morning because I forgot my memory cards. I still got to watch a beautiful sunrise, and maybe having to simply stand there and enjoy it wasn't such a bad thing.

But I was definitely grateful to have another morning to come back out.

And I'm really glad I stayed as long as I did.

Just Beyond

August 17th, 2026

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I've been to San Francisco plenty of times for work, but until this trip, that was really all of California I knew.

Airport. City. Hotel. Work. Home.

I'd been that close to all of these places for years. I'd just never gone any farther.

This time, I had the opportunity to change that.

And I felt like a kid in a candy store.

It seemed like everywhere I went there was something I'd never seen before.

Tule elk moving through the fog. California quail sitting on fence posts and rocks. Coyotes working their way across the hillsides. Seals piled onto rocks along the coast. Owls tucked away in trees. Raptors seemingly everywhere.

I finally saw an American kestrel, which was a total fan girl moment for me. The picture I got is terrible. I don't even care. I was just excited to finally see one.

There were bigger moments too.

I watched a coyote work its way down a hillside, suddenly pounce on something in the grass, eat it, and keep moving.

I watched an egret hunt until it caught a fish.

One foggy morning I watched elk slowly appear and disappear into the mist.

And one evening, after the sun had already gone down, I found two bull elk on top of a ridge sparring against this deep blue sky. There wasn't much light left, so eventually all I could really see were their silhouettes and their antlers coming together.

That ended up being one of my favorite moments of the entire trip.

But I think what has stayed with me most is the thought that all of this had been here the entire time.

I'd flown into San Francisco over and over again. I'd gotten off the plane, done what I came there to do, and flown home.

And just beyond the little piece of California I'd gotten used to were redwood forests, fog-covered hillsides, rocky coastlines, and more wildlife than I knew where to point my camera.

This time, I had an opportunity to go a little farther.

So I took it.

And it makes me wonder how often we stop at the edge of what's familiar simply because that's where we've always stopped.

Maybe the next possibility isn't always somewhere completely different.

Maybe sometimes it's just beyond where we've gone before.

I came home with way more photos and video than I knew what to do with, but I put some of my favorite moments together so I could share a little bit of what I got to experience out there.

A Weekend in the Wild

August 3rd, 2026

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There wasn't a destination this weekend.

No rare species I was hoping to find.

No big plan.

Just a few mornings and evenings outside with my camera.

I spent some time on the lake, explored a creek, wandered through green meadows, and came home with photographs I enjoyed.

But looking back, I don't think that's what I'll remember most.

What stays with me is the feeling of being outside without needing anything extraordinary to happen.

The fog over the water.

A quiet trail.

The sound of insects settling in as evening arrived.

Lately, I'm beginning to think those are the moments I carry home with me.