May 3

Serendipity can be a blessing or a bane to photographers. It was Louis Pasteur who said that “chance favors the prepared mind.” So when photographers are presented with a chance to shoot something other than what was planned, those who are prepared with the right equipment, creativity, and frame of mind may be blessed with a good ‘photo op’, whereas those who are not are cursed, or at the very least are cursing.

My first spring photo is such the case. Armed with a 600 mm lens and prepared to capture images of the first influx of migrating birds to Southcentral Alaska, I found myself with few opportunities. The lake I had chosen was partially frozen and the small areas of open water were occupied by few birds, most of which were quite skittish. So I went on to Plan B - retreat to the cover of the woods, wait quietly, and hope that the birds would become accustomed to my presence or that incoming birds would not see me. It was while I was waiting and watching that Plan C hit me right in the face. I noticed the impressionistic-like reflections and the beautiful pastel colors of the aspen and spruce trees on the water, which resulted in quite an abstract set of photos when isolated by the narrow view of the 600 mm lens. Other than the green color of the spruce trees, I’m not exactly sure from where the other colors came; it was a hazy overcast sky, and none of the hardwood trees had any blooms. Most likely the camera sensor picked up the blue through the clouds, and the color of the water was the source of other hues. Whatever the reason, I found myself quite satisfied to be leaving with some winners.

Oh, and by the way, the name of the lake - Reflection Lake. Now all lakes can be a reflection lake, but maybe this small, humble lake bordering the Knik River has magical qualities to turn light into art, and natives long ago, recognizing this gift from the Creator, appropriately named it Reflection Lake. I’ll probably never know. One thing I do know - I love serendipity when I am prepared!

May 5-8

Images and thoughts from my trip to Cordova to photograph migrating shorebirds can be found at Copper River Delta.

May 17

Today ended with thoughts of convergence at 10:30 in the evening. Photo ak0718 shows the waxing gibbous moon (two days from full, 95% illuminated) as it rises above the snow-covered ridge line of Eagle Peak, which was being bathed in a pink/magenta alpine glow about 15 minutes before the sun would set. Of course, many images have been created like this as composites: a picture of the moon taken separately is superimposed onto a photo of the mountain at sunset. Adobe Photoshop makes it so easy to do today, but the technique dates back decades to the early film days of photography. What makes this so striking for me is that Alaska’s latitude and long spring/summer days create opportunities for juxtaposition of light and form that often stop the mind, throw it in reverse, and force it to rethink its model of reality. It could be that I am still not used to Alaska’s idiosyncrasies. Mind you, as a photographer I am not complaining; grab shots can sometimes be the best photography in our portfolios. So after I shut off the television to retire to bed and looked outside our living room window, I immediately jumped into action. What initially baffled me as I was taking a series of photos (you really don’t think I could just take one photo) was that in subsequent photos the moon appeared to be setting because it disappeared behind the mountain. I knew that not to be the case, but not until days later did I find out that the moonrise for May 17 was at 8:56 p.m. So it took nearly one and one-half hours for the moon to make a very shallow rise moving north to south to arrive exactly at this spot for me to capture! Furthermore, had I tried to plan this for the full moon on May 19, the moonrise did not occur until 12:05 a.m. the following day. Not only would the alpine glow have been long gone (it was not that great anyways when the time came), but the moon would have risen in a different spot. Chalk it up to latitude again; my wife still is baffled by the different places the moon rises from day to day.

So, what does this have to do with spring? Well, it reminds me that the seasons -- and their transitions -- are really a convergence of many natural phenomena, starting with our planetary motion and its effect on light, temperature, winds, moisture, clouds, etc. This list is endless. The results are phenomenal. Each moment is unique. As a spiritual director once told me of his experience watching spellbound for hours a spider build a web, he was subtly reminded by God, “You can’t do that. Only I can.”

May 20

Yes, to the many friends and family that ask, spring has arrived in Alaska. Their questioning goes beyond the usual mindset about Alaska and its climate; this year we, and they, were reminded of the big dump of snow that the Anchorage area got on April 26, only three weeks ago. But now everything is beginning to bloom in the valleys and we are basking in the 50s and 60s, which feels heavenly after the long, cold winter. For me anything hotter than that is too hot.

Image ak0739 shows Jim Lake framed by the new grass of spring and the reminder of the winter just passed in the snows still covering Pioneer Peak (elevation approximately 6400 feet). Every so often trout fingerlings would jump out of the water to grab an insect. And every so often, a seagull or shorebird would plunk down from the sky to grab a morsel of trout. What a graphic reminder of the web of life. All that remains is for me to catch mommy or daddy trout. Yum!

After nearly two years living in Eagle River and overlooking the Eagle River Valley, image ak0752, taken about 8:30 p.m. today, reminds my wife and me that we should rename our little side of the mountain “Rainbow Ridge.” During the spring and summer months the setting sun aligns itself with the valley floor. As so often happens, we will get rain around the surrounding mountains while to the north and west the skies will be clear. The result is a rainbow that originates from the valley floor. This is certainly one sign that spring has arrived, although rainbows can happen with falling snow, but they are rare. Notice that the alder and willows low in the frame of the photo are further along sprouting leaves than is the large cottonwood along the left-hand side of the photo. And Polar Bear Peak in the background (elevation over 6600 feet) is covered in snow. Its upper portions above 5000 feet will remain in snow year round. In fact, the upper portion of the peak hides the remnants of a hanging glacier whose blue colors will become more discernible in the summer.

May 22

Christmas in May! No, it has not snowed again in Eagle River, Alaska. But like a child who receives an unexpected Christmas present and whose eyes are wide open to something new, images ak0770 and ak0791 were just that for me. Having been around black spruce trees for two years, this is the first time I noticed what are called pollen cones. They are the male part of the black spruce tree which will release pollen to pollinate the female part and ultimately become the seed cones that we are more familiar with. While researching this beautiful reminder of spring I learned that black spruce trees are hermaphroditic. That is, they have both sex organs on the same tree. So, the tree can self-pollinate its own female cone. Lastly, notice the dominant red and green colors which are traditionally associated with the Christmas season. It is a blessing to have your eyes and mind opened to something new. See the world with the eyes of a child and you will never suffer boredom.

May 24

It’s Memorial Day weekend, the traditional start to the summer season, and who would have thought we would be battling with snow this late in the year? But that is exactly what we found at Byers Lake, approximately 125 miles north of Anchorage along the Parks Highway. There, the remnants of a late April snowfall still covered the ground and many campsites with nearly two feet of dense, melting snow. In fact, we had to dig out our campsite to pull in our vehicles and pitch tents. And then to top things off, there was still some ice cover on Byers Lake. It made kayaking just a little more adventurous and the photo compositions that much more interesting (ak1687_40D, ak1691_40D ).

June 8

Springtime is for renewal and raising the next generation. First and foremost, that means keeping your progeny safe from harm, primarily from predators. A very close second in priority, particularly for the very young, is attending to their feeding needs. Hungry birds, especially, seem to require a lot of attention from their parents to keep them satiated. Perhaps it is because fledglings cannot fly and join their parents in pursuit of food that they are so helpless. Consequently they resort to a lot of vocalization pestering their parents to gather sustenance almost non-stop. I was fortunate to find a nest of Hairy Woodpeckers with two young. Naturally, a nest for a woodpecker is a custom-built hole in the side of a tree, courtesy of mom’s and dad’s woodworking abilities.

When the parents were out collecting grubs, one of the young woodpeckers would poke its head outside of the nest hole, peer left, forward, and right, all the while chattering to make sure mom and dad were not goofing off (ak0883, ak0869, ak0876, ak0913). When a parent returned it had a mouthful of green grubs found by drilling into dead, decaying trees. Wasting no time, the parent transferred the grubs into the waiting mouth of the young woodpecker. Image ak1731_40D shows how voracious and swift the movement of the young woodpecker is in grabbing the mouthful of grubs out of its mother’s beak. Exposed at 1/125 of a second, the movement of the youngster is a blur while the mother holds steady. A ninety degree twist to the head of the adult woodpecker facilitates the grub transfer. Once it is complete, the parent heads out again, and again, and again to keep their babies’ stomachs full. Like most parenting, it is a full time job. Surprisingly, even the male woodpecker participates in the feeding process (ak0881).

June 19

Wildflowers are a highlight of my spring, especially finding new ones to add to my portfolio. Last year, which was my first full spring in Alaska, I spent a lot of time building up my portfolio with dozens of wildflowers. The culmination of the effort is the Wildflowers of Alaska print for purchase. But as one who wants to grow professionally as a photographer, it is necessary to see “old friends” in different ways to capture new images, such as the macro shot of a single Shooting Star (ak1005) or the Marsh Marigolds (ak0994). While it is always a good idea to see what your competition is up to, the only way to really get better is to be honest about your shortcomings and compete with yourself.

This year, my plan is to create a collage of wild berries which will include the spring flowers as well as the mature fall berries. Fortunately I got a good start last year with several wild berry shots. Added to that this spring are the flowers of the Wild Strawberry, Baneberry, and Watermelon Berry (ak0950, ak0965, and ak0977, respectively). Along the way, I was able to photograph some Mountain Marsh Marigolds (ak1021, ak1025, ak1031). Initially, I had a difficult time identifying the flower since it was not to be found in any of the popular field guides on Alaska wildflowers in my possession. However, having already taken photos of Marsh Marigolds, there were a couple of clues that this flower might be a type of marsh marigold: such as, growing in shallow water and the shape of the leaves. It was not until I looked at a book for wildflowers of the Canadian Rockies was my identification confirmed. That begs the question - its absence in Alaska wildflower field guides makes me wonder if it is a rarity, although the location where it was found is well known to wildflower photographers.