Even when we are on the scenic route, I suspect that most of the time we still remain fixated on our destination. The view outside the window is prettier, but it’s still just time filler. If it were food, it’s definitely not the main course. And I don’t often think we even treat it as an appetizer.
Better appreciating the journey is something that I have been working on for years. And I remain a work in progress.
Where I’m from — the greater Seattle area — a snowbird is a person, a person who travels far south to spend the winter in the sunny warmth. But to a short-eared owl, a different type of snow bird, where I’m from is the south.
For a few months a year — the coldest months — you can often spot a short-eared owl or two flying back and forth over an empty field, hunting for voles. Some fields can attract a half-dozen of these owls.
As 2022 comes to a close, it’s time for my annual review of the past year’s pictures. This year brought new experiences both near and far.
Fifteen years ago, I hiked for two days in the Mojave Desert before I finally saw one: an Agassiz’s desert tortoise. Today, finding one would likely require even more effort.
The tortoise, also known as the Mojave desert tortoise, finally made it on California’s endangered species list two years ago — temporarily. It may soon revert back to threatened status, even though it’s still very much in danger of vanishing from the land.
This month there was yet another disastrous environmental report. Wildlife populations around the world are practically in free-fall. I could spend these next few paragraphs joining the chorus of those sounding the alarms, but I’m going to try something different. I’m going to try to offer hope.
Before science, there were imaginative stories about the formation of land and life. I find inspiration in the creativity of legends from around the world and have worked to illustrate some of my favorites. This story is part of my Legends of the Land series.
In the heat of the midday sun, the rivers of east Africa look inviting. Cool water splashes past lush shrubs. The rivers even look like they’re full of stepping stones.
Being rejected is a terrible, terrible feeling. But in art, let alone life, I’m not aware of any way to avoid it.
We’re conditioned to only share the positive. We worry that if we show any sign of weakness, it will taint our public image and close the door to future opportunities. Who wants to work with a loser?
