For the last few years, I have been making small, obtainable photography-related New Year's resolutions to help improve my work. Two years ago, I dedicated time to updating my website. Last year, I decided to focus on curation and being more selective about which photos I share.

This year, I have decided to focus on titles and captions. I suspect several of my recent titles -- who can forget classics such as "Fern" or "A pair of Yellow Aspens"? -- could be accused of being a tad bit uninspired. While those titles are accurate, I doubt many of you are coming to see my photos so you can literally see what a fern looks like. So in order to provide a bit more context for the photographs, and add to the story of why I took them or what I think they mean, I am going to work on providing a title and caption going forward.

Without further adieu, I present "Autumn Crunch." I took this photo in November on a hike with my three-month-old daughter. It was her first 4,000 footer. The leaves had just about all fallen from the trees. They were no longer malleable, but hadn't yet been crunched into pieces. I like how the rich burnt orange colors mix with the dirty gray colors of the leaves, but more than that this one is about texture for me, since when I see it I can feel and hear the crispy leaves crackling under my boots.

Tags:   Mount Hale 4000 footer leaves Nature White Mountains

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Confession: I made this photograph without a tripod.

As a landscape photographer, I know that's a cardinal sin. I am expected to trumpet the importance of always using a tripod to take the tack-sharpest photos possible. I am supposed to wax poetic about the meditative nature of unfolding my tripod and how doing so permits me the time to slow down and ply my craft and truly discover the beauty before me. I am supposed to achieve inner peace through tripod construction.

But truth be told, I avoid using a it when I don't need one. I like my tripod, but it's just a tool to take stable photograph. In fact, many of the photos I share here are shot hand-held.

I made this photograph here, of the Ammonoosuc Ravine waterfall, last July while I was out hiking a few peaks, including Mount Washington. This waterfall is about halfway up the trail, and I didn't want to bring the tripod along for just this photo.

With waterfall images like this one, it can be difficult-to-nearly-impossible to go hand-held, since you need to slow down the shutter speed to get that silky water feel and you typically want to use a polarizing lens, which reduces the amount of light coming in, to eliminate glare on the water. So when I got to the falls, I made a composition that allowed me to tuck the camera and lens up against a tree trunk and brace it with my hand on the other side. In some instances, I have even been able to make a cradle with the camera strap by looping it around the trunk and dropping the lens into the basket of the loop. I guess you could call it a "tree-pod".

I am sure there are some of you that have tried some variatioon of this also, so as you know, the tree-pod is by no means a perfect solution. It drastically cuts down the freedom of perspective you can achieve, since you need the camera near a tree. You can also only pull this of with not-so-long exposure shutter speeds. This one here was at 1/13. And it was especially challenging , since the tree I initially wanted to use as a tree-pod was holding the branch and leaves dropping in from the top of the frame, which were critical to balancing out the composition. I couldn't use that tree to stabilize the camera, because the pressure would move the trunk and the leaves would sway and blur in the shot.

At the end of the day, even if it is a landscpae photography sin, I consider it a win, since it saved me from lugging a tripod up three mountains.

Tags:   Mount Washington Ammonoosuc Ravine Waterfall White Mountains Hiking Nature Landscape

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Some photographs communicate the photographer's state of mind to the viewer. For instance, a majestic mountain top sunrise might convey the photographer's state of awe, whereas a placid lake conveys his or her feelings of tranquility and calm, or a solitary leaf conveys feelings of loneliness or isolation.

This is probably not one of those photographs.

As a photographer, it's impossible to totally isolate yourself afterwards from the experience of taking the photograph and view it entirely objectively, like any other person would viewing it fresh for the first time.

But I can try.

Looking at this photo, I think most folks would see the zig-zag trail heading into a bright clearing and, perhaps depending on whether they are optimists or pessimists, think about the phrases "light at the end of the tunnel" or "not out of the woods yet," respectively. The soft snow looks sleepy and comfortable, but the shadowy woods along the path are a little spooky and mysterious. And the cool blue tones are icy and refreshing, like a stick of winterfresh gum.

While those thoughts may have subconsciously played a part in me making this photograph, I can assure you that is not what was going through my head at the time. This was the day after my three-year-old daughter's birthday party, which was Beauty and the Beast themed, and the only thing running through my head on loop all day -- throughout my entire 4.5 hour hike -- was that little candlestick singing "Be our Guest."
But please, if I am wrong and that got through to anyone viewing this photo, please let me know.

Tags:   Lumiere Winter Snow Mount Pierce Trail Hiking Nature Ladscape new Hampshire

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What drives me to make these photographs?

If we are talking literally, then it's my beloved 2013 Toyota Yaris.

As anyone who has spent ten minutes with me knows, I am very proud of my 153.5 inch, high-mileage, low-cost Yaris. A lot of the hikes up in the White Mountains take me 2-3 hours each way from home to the trailhead. So that's a lot of Yaris time listening to podcasts, drinking coffee, and scarfing down pre-hike or post-hike food. And I really enjoy the rides: the caffeine fueled anticipation on the way to the trail and that calmness that comes with physical exhaustion on the way home.

But the reason I am talking about the Yaris -- aside from the fact that I try to bring it up in every conversation -- is that I came up with the idea for this photograph looking out the windshield on my way to the trail.

And this isn't the only one. I went back and counted the photos I shared on social media the last two years, and I had about 10-11 photographs each year that I made after spotting something on the drive up. That's like 5-10% of the photos I share here. Perhaps it's the timing and the morning light; perhaps it's the fact that the highways up in New Hampshire offer some incredible views; or perhaps it's the streams and waterfalls near the roadside that look so nice before the harsh daylight sun comes out. I noticed I tend to find a lot more photos on the way up then on the way down, so I think the key is that I am really excited about the landscape and open to what's around me in the morning and that helps me find things to photograph. As a result, it's not uncommon that I already make a photo I am happy about before I even hit the trail, which honestly feels really nice.

Tags:   White Mountains Nature Landscape Hiking winter New Hampshire New England

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Everyone feels like a fraud from time to time. The old adage, which I am guilty of handing out myself, is "fake it until you make it." What I didn't know, is this advice might work for trees, too.

I was hiking up Stinson Mountain this past autumn and aside from some orange beech leaves, most of the foliage had already dropped. I came upon this scene and noticed a nice cluster of leaves and started to make a few photographs playing around with backlight to make the leaves glow.

After a few minutes, it dawned on me that the tree trunk I was building my composition around wasn't a beech. The bark wasn't smooth. I circled the tree and looked more closely and realized the leaves were actually from a smaller beech hiding entirely behind this larger tree trunk. I looked it up after I got home and I think the trunk is a black cherry tree.

As far as I know, black cherries are not known for their fall foliage, but this one here, in the right place, and at the right time, managaed to make it into a nice bright-orange-leafed fall photo.

Tags:   Mount Stinson New Hampshire Nature Fall Landscape Hiking

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