Photos from the Trail at Kent Falls
These falls have many different levels or layers, and there is never a vantage point where you can see the whole thing.
These falls have many different levels or layers, and there is never a vantage point where you can see the whole thing.
My husband and I enjoyed a very companionable Sunday afternoon walk today at Huntington State Park.
We’ve had one or another amaryllis blooming and my husband can make orchids rebloom with apparent ease; there are two reblooming right now in my home.
I thought you might enjoy my recent photographs of fast moving cold water. They were a challenge to take, but came out beautifully.
Together with their Uncle John, our daughters climbed to the top of the highest point in the formation in the photo above. (Note: there was not a trail.)
Palo Duro Canyon is my favorite place to visit when in Amarillo. The late afternoon glow cast some of these photos in a warm luminescence.
I’ve been enjoying intermittently exploring the area a bit north of here while our youngest daughter is taking some classes there. The Housatonic River is particularly lovely. I so frequently hanker to go to the Alps or linger in remote fiords or something, but days with views like this remind me that beauty is everywhere. … Read more
Friday while taking the cliff photos, my dear old camera freaked out and died. I had been having trouble with that camera intermittently for about
I took these photos with my iPhone. I was on a photo shoot yesterday near the Schaghticoke Indian reservation, when my good camera freaked out and died.
The roses at Swarthmore were gorgeous. I took these photos while my husband discussed rose cultivation with the gardener who is in the process of renovating…
I enjoyed a bike ride this morning along the Housatonic River while our daughter was in her Botany class. I plan to watch this area through the
The weather the last few days has been crystalline. The deep blue skies, together with the humidity-free seventy degree air, simultaneously carried both the last
I was six on a trip out west with my family. As the youngest, I was standing on the picnic table bench facing the ponderosa pines as my father cooked the meat. Savory smells were