Photograph of a moose calf
Shiras Moose Calf in the Colorado Rocky Mountains


These past few weeks have gone by fast. Mooseville has been serving fresh moose on demand.

Here it is a Saturday morning and I’ve had a few hours to go over the harvest from my recent efforts. The light consistent enough to get some really nice, well lit shots. These days I tend to take an attitude about the harvest, there are only three categories I sort my images by, useless, salable and anything I consider a “work of art.” I’ve taken a handful of photographs I would print and frame, many of the rest will produce. I am quite pleased.

If you’ve ever reheated cold coffee because it tastes better, you may have been a sailor. I can’t work at a computer without coffee and here in the cabin one doesn’t waste water. In the Navy, good coffee was day old coffee, anything older tended to rust your barnacles.

The photography has pretty much wound down now. I’m catching up on rest and visiting with Andy and Debbie. Andy and I grew up together as teenagers, he’s probably one of oldest continuous friends in my life minus family members. I think the base wavelengths of our brains haven’t altered so there is still total familiarity, at least from my perspective. We’ve spent the last two days in the SUV together and rehashed every memory from high school days in Kentucky, among other things. Debbie is from Nashville and a delightful lady. She’s been keeping notes about her travels. It’s a very nice feeling knowing that all seems well with my old friend after so many years of not interacting.

Over the years a lot of my friends had little or no interest in the “high school days.” When I graduated high school, I entered the Navy and began a family. I left Kentucky and most of everyone except family. I went to a couple of reunions, 5 & 10th I believe. Never thought about it after that, it was water under the bridge for me. That was 1975 and the years are adding up. My thinking has matured. People are beginning to drop off. Life wouldn’t be complete without going full circle to tie the whole thing together.

I had a piece of Derby Pie with my coffee for breakfast this morning. A gift from Andy and Debbie. Pies seem to be a reoccurring event in my life. I don’t know how that works but I’ll take it. Derby Pie is a pecan pie type thing infused with Kentucky Bourbon. It’s mostly visible to society around the time of the Kentucky Derby, however, those of us from Louisville consider it to be a food group.

I’ve met the day’s major points. Talked to the wife on the phone, bathed, uploaded stock photos and now writing in the blog. Taking Care of Business is playing on the oldies radio station. Radio, iPhone music and boring streaming television is what’s available for background noise. Radio is the choice this morning. I like to not have to fiddle with other things when I’m trying to concoct a blog post.

Here it is. All 537 or so words. That’s an honest writing effort.

Just as good as reheated coffee.


Lewis and Clark Bridge on the Ohio River in Louisville, Kentucky
Lewis and Clark Bridge on the Ohio River in Louisville, Kentucky

Man, does time fly by?

It was about this time last year when I was visiting my mother and photographing Thoroughbred horses near Midway, Ky. Near the end of my trip, I arranged to meet my older brother in downtown Louisville.

It was a perfect weather day, the city was preparing for the Kentucky Derby as they do each year. Spring was in full swing. I decided to drive downtown along an old familiar route, River Road and photograph all the bridges across the Ohio River from Madison, Indiana to New Albany Indiana.

This particular bridge is the Lewis and Clark Bridge on the Ohio River in near the city of Prospect at a place called Transylvania Beach. This bridge is fairly new. Back in the day I spent many hours on the Ohio River. It was our recreational zone of choice for house boating and water skiing and other odd things.

Remnants of the old boat docks still protrude from the banks of the Ohio as this stretch of Kentucky shore-line was once filled with private boats and docks. Those days are mostly gone now. Floods, fuel costs, and other factors have conspired to change the culture. There was never a bridge here when I frequented the Harrods Creek/Ohio River channels, so seeing this sitting on top of my memory is sorta like having your old home torn down and in it’s place is a parking lot.

As for the other bridges, I managed to get everything done while I traveled along River Road to meet my brother for lunch. We finished up the last bridge together, tromping around in the thickets along the banks of the Ohio River in New Albany, Indiana. It was like we were 12 years old again.

Interestingly, this photo is pretty popular with my stock agencies. I made the right choice to go for them them.