Falling to Winter

Time is the one true constant—an invisible current that carries us forward, whether we’re ready or not. It’s the most honest measure of what we value: the hours we devote to work, the moments we share with loved ones, the days we steal away to travel and explore. Yet once spent, time is irretrievable. And as we age, its pace seems to quicken, propelling us ever faster toward the inevitable horizon.

In this digital age, one of the greatest thieves of time is doom-scrolling. I’ve succumbed to it more often than I’d like to admit—a habit I wrestle with, especially as the world around me slips by in fleeting seasons. The spring wildflowers I wandered among feel like they bloomed just yesterday, their colors still vivid in my memory. Summer hikes and backpacking adventures seem only moments ago. The joy of autumn’s fiery foliage still lingers. And tomorrow, surely, will be winter. The cycle spins faster now, each turn of the wheel a blur.

Sometimes I long to return—to the wide-eyed wonder of my teens, the boundless optimism of my twenties, the memory-rich tapestry of my thirties. But time doesn’t rewind. All I can do is move forward, carried by its current, hoping to make each moment count before it too becomes a memory.

Oregon
USA

A Sky Set in Motion

10,000 snow geese erupted into flight, their honking a wild symphony echoing across the Skagit Valley. The air pulsed with movement, the scent of damp earth and feathers grounding the spectacle. It was chaotic, yes—but utterly mesmerizing.

These Arctic travelers spend their summers nesting in Siberia before journeying thousands of miles to overwinter in the fertile fields of coastal Washington and British Columbia. Some continue south to California, while others linger here—unwelcome guests to farmers, but pure magic to photographers.

I hadn’t expected such a massive flock this early in the season. But witnessing their synchronized dance—rising, settling, rising again—was a gift I’ll never forget.

Bonus: Trumpeter swans competing for attention from the snow geese gathering in the valley.

Skagit County
WA USA

The last of Fall

In the blink of an eye, autumn’s brilliance has faded into the mist of early winter. The Pacific Northwest, once draped in vibrant foliage and crisp air, now braces under atmospheric rivers and dwindling daylight.

As nature slows, so do we—retreating indoors to rest, reflect, and recalibrate. This seasonal shift invites a deeper pause: to acknowledge the personal transformations we've weathered, and the seismic shifts felt across our communities and country.

In these uncertain times, I’m leaning into the beauty that remains. The fiery hues of fall, like those captured here in the North Cascades, remind me that even fleeting moments can offer lasting comfort.

Here’s to finding light in memory, and strength in stillness.

Mt Baker Wilderness
WA USA

Smoking Fuego

High above the heart of Guatemala, sunrise from Mt. Acatenango unfolds like a celestial symphony. Plains stretch endlessly, dissolving into a deep indigo haze beneath a sky brushed with twilight pink. Volcanic peaks pierce the morning clouds—smooth, conical silhouettes rising in quiet defiance against the rolling sea of valleys below. As the sun climbs, the palette shifts: blues and pinks melt into molten gold, igniting the horizon with warmth and wonder.

Sunset mirrors the magic in reverse. Sometimes, remnants of afternoon storms catch the last light and blaze like fire across the sky. Other times, the rain lingers, veiling the stars until late into the night. And on rare occasions, a sudden eruption breaks through the clouds—a violet burst, a shower of glowing embers, a plume of smoke curling into the dusk.

Though I only witnessed a few sunrises and sunsets, each one etched the sublime beauty of this volcanic realm into memory. A place where light dances with shadow, and the Earth breathes in color.

Guatemala

A Show to Remember

2024 will be remembered as a banner year for aurora chasers. With two colossal geomagnetic storms and countless smaller shows, the skies danced with light from pole to prairie. I was lucky enough to witness one of the most electrifying displays during the G4 storm in October, standing beneath the heavens in Iceland.

That night felt like a pilgrimage. I spent the afternoon layering up, packing food, water, blankets, and enough coffee to fuel a vigil. By 11pm, as we drove toward our chosen spot, the sky erupted. A crimson wall rose in the south—so intense it looked like the Earth itself was bleeding light. Above us, emerald ribbons twisted and shimmered, pulsing with energy. Sub-storms rolled in like waves, each one igniting the sky in a fresh blaze of green and red. Between bursts, the aurora softened, flowing like silk across the stars.

By 2am, the storm’s crescendo had passed, but the lights lingered—quiet, ethereal, and hauntingly beautiful. I stayed out until the colors faded into dawn.

The next morning was a blur. My body was exhausted, my mind foggy, but my spirit was wide awake. That night etched itself into memory—not just for the spectacle, but for the feeling of standing small beneath something so vast, so alive.

Iceland

Silver Linings

Expectations: A crisp autumn weekend hiking through the Cascade Mountains, chasing golden larches and postcard-perfect vistas.

Reality: A fierce and unannounced winter storm barreled through the region, plunging temperatures into the low 20s and unleashing winds strong enough to flatten tents. The landscape was blanketed in a fresh inch of snow—beautiful, but brutal.

None of the forecasts hinted at the severity we encountered in the high country. The mild conditions at the trailhead gave no warning of what lay ahead. As we climbed, thick banks of clouds rolled in swiftly, unloading icy rain and snow across the peaks. We knew then: the night would be unforgiving.

By morning, the storm had passed. In its wake, it left behind a breathtaking scene—crisp air, golden larches dusted in snow, and light that danced across the ridges. A photographer’s dream, even if our fingers were numb.

North Cascades National Park
Washington, USA

Churches of Slovenia

One of the things that fascinated me about Slovenia was the preponderance of hill-top churches dotted around the rolling countryside. In many places, they are set high above the surrounding landscape (or even lakes), offering a focal point for photographers and people alike. These churches aren't particularly big, but they make up for in their neat aesthetic, making them stand out against landscape.

While I didn't have the opportunity to capture them against the much-favored golden light, I still enjoyed the scenic setting of the different churches I photographed.

Slovenia

Larch Madness

The mark of fall in the Pacific Northwest is undoubtedly the synchronized color show put on by the larches. 

As per the Washington Trails Association: Larches are a pot of gold in the fall hiking season as their flaming yellow needles turn the Cascade mountain landscape into something ethereal and otherworldly. The few short weeks when the larches’ needles turn golden—typically late September into early October—make them all the more precious to spot. It’s no wonder we call our annual search “Larch Madness.”

With Larch Madness hitting the mountains over the next couple of weeks, it is primetime for landscape and nature photographers seeking to capture landscapes with swathes of gold coat all over. And while I missed the prior years, I am excited to go this time and indulge in this spectacle of nature.

Lake Chelan-Sawtooth Wilderness
WA USA

Shades of Fall

Its officially fall in the Pacific Northwest. After a long spring where the average temperature slowly meanders up, and a blissful long summer where the mountains showcase all their splendor, the mercury drops in a matter of a few weeks in the mountains as the weather becomes wetter thanks to the storms from the Pacific. The vegetation responds to the changes in weather rather dramatically, as short brush in the high-alpine terrain turn to a scarlet red, while the larches in the drier reaches of the PNW switch to gold. And before long, they are replaced by a coat of white as winter sets in the mountains. All within a span of 4-6 weeks.

Naturally, it is one of the best times to be out there to capture this dramatic change in colors. Here are a few examples from the North Cascades range.

Mt Baker Wilderness

WA USA

Timeless outdoors

After a tiring hike in the mountains, the sight of this glistening blue lake spread across the landscape was a welcome sight for my sore eyes. I immediately made my way to the shore, dipping into the cool waters to relax my worn out legs. And I sat there on the shore, enjoying a bit of warm sunshine while watching the shallow waves slowly come ashore, and listening to the gentle rustling of trees.

I could not have thought of a better way to spend the afternoon than being here.

Lake Bohinj
Slovenia