One Year Later

_C1_9831 smallNorth Betty Jo Drive, January

Well, it’s been exactly one year since I moved here, started writing for the Northwest Arkansas Times and began learning about this place through a camera lens. It’s time, of course, for the cheesy look back on what a year here has brought.

_C1_1128Dickson Street Mardi Gras

_C1_1446North College Avenue, March

_C1_3484Fayetteville Square Farmers Market, April

I’ve definitely gotten better as time has gone on; I’ve gone to new places, found better settings, become more comfortable getting close to people, and am more confident about finding an image no matter where I am. The original idea of this blog was to keep improving even while I’m not making a living with this stuff, and I think that’s going all right.

_C1_4513Devil’s Den State Park, April

_C1_4961Washington County Courthouse, May

_C1_5239World Treasures, North Block Street, May

More importantly, plenty has happened here in Fayetteville since then, with Mardi Gras and Pride parades, a brief period of same-sex marriage in this county, holidays and fairs and life in general. Even if I don’t capture them well, the people, lives and places in these images are real and worth respecting and remembering. There’s art everywhere, and I just try to catch it.

_C1_5526Kings River Country Store, May

_C1_5955Jefferson Lines Station, June

_C1_6698Fayetteville Pride, June

_C1_8106Ozark National Forest, July

This year is also the first I’ve thought about selling prints of some of these photos. No pressure, but if you’re interested, I’ve got a mostly up-to-date Redbubble page set up here. They print, frame and ship. I’ll also make the plug that while newspaper writing is my primary career at this point, if you want photos of an event taken with a photojournalist’s eye for emotion and detail, I’d be glad to see what I can do.

_C1_8439Lewis Fields, July

_C1_9735Washington County Fair, August

_C1_0297bwGlam Beauty Bar, August

_C1_0919Razorback Football Stadium, September

It’s been a good year here, with plenty of interesting and good people, plenty to write about at work and plenty to photograph. I’m not sure where I’ll end up, but this place is one of my homes now.

_C1_2008Bikes, Blues & BBQ, September

_C1_2455Wilson Park, October

_C1_2691---CopyWinslow, October

_C1_2789---CopyPartial solar eclipse, October

_C1_3125Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, October

As always, thanks for looking.


Coming Back

IMG_9979Home, for me, has long been a complicated word. We moved from Springfield, Mo., up to Nebraska before my third grade year. A decade later, I went down the road to the University of Nebraska. A month later, my family moved back to Springfield.  As I deepen my roots in yet another state, I realize the day before college was the last time “home” was singular.

This is a time of many returns for me, though. I went up to Springfield this past weekend and remembered something I always forget — how nice it can be to come back to board games and cookouts and three-hour conversation. Life is flowing back with the spring, life I breathe in from each breeze and storm. And in a couple of weeks, I’ll be going back to Nebraska for the first time since August. This a good time for me.







IMG_9985Having three homes is tough. They wrench time from each other. But they amplify each other, too. Nothing helps boost appreciation for something like losing it, even for just a while. In a way, I think, life has been a chain of losses and returns. The loss sure sweetens the taste of returning. Sometimes I think one home would be nicer, but with each loss I value each home with greater intensity.

On a lighter note, the same delight in returning applies to spring. I’m a broken record, but man, I’ve missed it.





IMG_0032However many homes you have, whatever form they take and whatever takes you away, I hope you get to return.

Thanks for looking,


Leaving the Desert

Have you ever heard the harsh, dry rattle of a rattlesnake in a movie or TV show? How it starts slowly before speeding up menacingly, warning that you have seconds or less before a strike?

I heard that sound for myself on the last day of my trip to Tucson, Ariz. I heard it from about five feet in front of me from the ground and reacted probably even before I had locked eyes on the rattler, coiled in defense. It was only about a foot and a half long, but the valley I was hiking in got a good sample of what my yells sound like, and my heart hammered and my lungs gasped as if I had already sprinted two football fields away.

It crept off to the left. I stood motionless for several moments. Then I walked slowly forward before once again hearing that terrifying sound, this time from the right. I decided I’d had enough hiking for the day. Light rain started to fall.

I’m back in Missouri now following this trip. These are some images I took after the excursion to Nogales, including the newest additions to my continuing series, Dinky Desert Flowers, and some of my first attempts at street photography. I didn’t get any of the snake, unfortunately, because I didn’t want to take my eyes off of it even to reach for my camera.

Street photography’s a different beast than newspaper photography, come to find out, and I look forward to the experience and practice I need to get better at it.

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These wacky birds were really beat up, with messed-up feathers and broken toes, and they all kept looking up in the same direction before calling out piercingly in unison every few moments.
These wacky birds were really beat up, with messed-up feathers and broken toes, and they all kept looking up in the same direction before calling out piercingly, in unison, every few moments.

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