“Common Collared Lizard”

Common Collared Lizard, Hovenweep National Monument, SW Colorado (c) Mike Utley

Hovenweep National Monument is located on a swath of land on Cajon Mesa in the Great Sage Plain that straddles the border of southwest Colorado and southeast Utah less than an hour from where I live. It’s widely known for hosting six extraordinary groups of Ancestral Puebloan villages and a kiva, as well as displaying signs of hunter-gatherers from 8,000-6,000 B.C. through 200 A.D. (Info provided by Wikipedia)

On this day in the early 2000s, I set out to photograph the sandstone towers and other structures, many of which were in surprisingly good condition. The day was clear and hot, and as I hiked from the parking area toward the ruins, I was eager to see the place for the first time and make some images to add to my portfolio.

Alas, nature has a weird fickle streak which makes her unpredictable, and about a half-hour into my hike a sandstorm appeared and intensified with surprising alacrity. I managed to photograph one cylindrical tower amid blowing sand, then jammed my camera inside my shirt to protect it from sand and grit and hoofed it back toward the parking area to wait out the sandstorm in my truck.

On the trail not far from the parking lot, I stumbled across this little guy near a small juniper and some sage brush on the dirt trail. I’d never seen this species of lizard in the wild before, and was unaware of its name. At around ten inches in length, it was larger than the majority of lizards in my area, and its brilliant coloring was fascinating. So, I stopped and set about trying to get some shots of this fellow.

The sandstorm was still blowing dust and grit as I hunkered down to get a decent angle with my 75-300mm lens. The lizard was active, darting about, seeming to run laps around me. It was obviously acclimated to humans, at least to a degree, and it hung around the T-intersection of the trail, flitting about as though it were playing tag with me. After about twenty minutes of stalking this guy amid rapidly changing lighting conditions and several “oohs” and “ahhs” from passers-by, I finally managed to make a couple of images.

The first image here has better composition than the second, while the lighting in the second image is more dynamic than the first. I rarely photographed animals during my nature photography period of 1995-2003 for a couple of reasons. First, as much as I love animals, I prefer landscape photography—I was always very methodical and meticulous in my approach to photography and that meant taking my time to evaluate the scene and make compositional decisions, something that’s more difficult to do when attempting to capture moving animals on film. Second, I simply never had the proper gear to photograph wildlife. Big heavy, fast, expensive lenses are part of a wildlife photographer’s arsenal. I couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars on a 300mm f/2.8 lens for wildlife images, and my 75-300mm f/4.0-5.6 zoom wasn’t ideal for subjects in constant motion. Photographing a mountain vista doesn’t require super-fast shutter speeds to freeze the action; photographing a common collared lizard who appears to be on a jittery caffeine-high is a different matter altogether. I was glad to get these two images, and later I checked my field guide to properly identify the species.

Common Collared Lizard, Hovenweep National Monument, SW Colorado (c) Mike Utley

This was more than twenty years ago, and I’ve never seen another common collared lizard. A bit of serendipity, I suppose—I set out to photograph ancient ruins and ended up with lizard images instead. You never know what nature has in store for you. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)

“Fade” published at Gobblers By Masticadores

Hey, folks. I’d like to announce my poem “Fade” has been published at Gobblers By Masticadores. A big thank you to Juan Re Crivello and Manuela Timofte and their staff for this opportunity to share my poetry with their readers—it’s always an honor and I’m truly grateful.

“Fade”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

Dusk has fallen as
Stars scream heavenward and doves
Murmur mournfully
Evening-song has come and I
Cannot hear day’s parting cry

Night blooms above as
Insects whisper mysteries
And wolves share solemn
Oaths on phantom breeze and I
Cannot hear dark’s somber sigh
…”

You can read the rest of my poem by clicking this link. Also, don’t forget to follow and subscribe to Gobblers By Masticadores, where you’ll find some wonderful writing and plenty of food for thought.

My Interview: “Spotlight on Writers” at Spillwords Press

Hey, folks. Spillwords Press has decided to feature me in its “Spotlight on Writers” interview series today, a thrilling and humbling experience for me. I want to thank Dagmara K. and her team for this opportunity to share a bit about myself, my background and what inspires me to create. If you’d like to read the interview, you can find it by clicking this link:

“Spotlight on Writers — Michael L. Utley” at Spillwords Press

It’s truly an honor to have my poetry and this interview published at Spillwords Press, and I’m delighted and grateful for the chance to connect with readers in this way. I hope you enjoy the interview, and please check out the incredibly talented writers at Spillwords Press, where you’ll find some of the best thought-provoking and moving writing anywhere.

“Scarlet Gilia & Sage Brush”

Scarlet Gilia & Sage Brush, SE Utah (c) Mike Utley

Growing up in the pre-internet era, many folks were subjected to erroneous information that passed its way down through the generations. A quick and convenient Google search wasn’t a thing back then, and unless one had access to a public library or a bookshelf full of encyclopedias, one really had no way of verifying the veracity of that which was told to us by our elders.

This photo featuring scarlet gilia and sage brush is a case in point. For many years, I was told by my mom and her parents at the farm that this flower was honeysuckle. You pluck the blossom from the stem and drink of its nectar, so sure, honeysuckle it must be. Except…it’s not. When I became involved in nature photography in 1995, I bought a guide book for North American plants so I could properly identify what I was photographing. There were clues all along that the info I was receiving from my mom and grandparents was a bit off. They called orange globe mallow flowers “Cheez-Its,” for example, after the tangy cheese cracker, and even as a kid I knew this wasn’t correct. There was no malice involved in these misnomers, of course, just incorrect hand-me-down names for things that were otherwise unidentifiable to folks back then.

I came across this little scene one day in 2014 while on a walk at the farm. I hadn’t done any serious photography for years by that point, although I’d occasionally take my little Canon PowerShot digital camera with me just in case I saw something worth photographing. I had my tripod with me that day, and I composed this image, then went on my way. It wasn’t until I got back to the house and uploaded the image that I realized I had a keeper.

My philosophy with regards to flower photography has always been to shoot in overcast lighting or open shade (tree shadows, etc.) and to avoid bright sunlight. The reason for this is bright sunlight creates harsh, contrasting shadows and tends to bleach-out flower colors, creating an unflattering image, while overcast lighting results in saturated flower colors with even lighting and no shadows for a brilliant color palette. And this philosophy generally holds true. However, there are exceptions, as was the case here. The sun was in a position where it created virtually no annoying shadows in the scene, and the pale-green neutral background of sage served to make the red of the scarlet gilia really pop. This scene, if photographed in overcast conditions, would have been equally acceptable, but the emotional impact would have been completely different. The image below demonstrates the overcast lighting technique for flower photography and how it produces even lighting, no shadows and a vibrant color palette.

Rocky Mountain Columbine, Abajo Mt., SE Utah (c) Mike Utley

Although I informed my mom of the real names of these and other flowers and plants, she continued to use the names she’d been taught as a child, and that was okay, I suppose. I always found it endearing, anyway. (Canon gear)

“It’s Much Too Late” published at Gobblers By Masticadores

I’d like to let everyone know my poem “It’s Much Too Late” has been published at Gobblers By Masticadores. Sincere thanks to Juan Re Crivello and Manuela Timofte and their staff for this opportunity to share my poetry with their readers—it’s always an honor.

“It’s Much Too Late”
(c) 2017 by Michael L. Utley

“Autumn rain
Cannot slake
Summer’s thirst

It’s much too late
For yellowed grass
And barren field

Leaves which fall unseen
Litter ground in mounds
Scarlet memories

It’s much too late
For mountain leas
Devoid of hue…”

You can read the rest of my poem by clicking this link. Also, don’t forget to follow and subscribe to Gobblers By Masticadores, where you’ll find some wonderful writing and plenty of food for thought.

“Tree & Boulders at Sunset”

Tree & Boulders at Sunset, Lisbon Valley, SE Utah (c) Mike Utley

Lisbon Valley is a rather nondescript region in southeast Utah about an hour from the farm on which I was raised, not far from Canyonlands and Arches National Parks. There are no bottomless canyons cutting across the landscape here, no fragile arches standing sentinel over the sage and pinyon and juniper. It’s an out-of-the-way, forgotten place used mainly by ranchers for cattle grazing, and desecrated by a sprawling copper mine. However, it’s an area of special note to me and I spent many afternoons and evenings photographing this place before the copper mine brought its ugly open pit, pollution and truck traffic and destroyed its natural beauty.

This image from the late 1990s is what I call an intimate landscape. It focuses not on grand vistas, but rather a smaller, secluded view, one within arm’s reach. I was fascinated by the contrast between the two adjacent boulders in the foreground, how the doughiness of one appears so starkly different from the smooth, lichen-encrusted texture of the other—an almost surreal juxtaposition. The evening light was a glorious salmon hue with a delicate intensity, a softness often found in desert sunsets.

The thing about these unremarkable locales is that very few people, if any, have ever set foot in much of these areas. People flock to Canyonlands and Arches National Parks for good reason, of course—to be mind-blown by the outrageous showmanship of nature’s rugged chisel and brush, and never even notice these lesser-known places where desert life plays out in secret and beauty on a different scale is on hidden display. I left many footprints in the sands of Lisbon Valley over the years, and always considered it one of my favorite areas for intimate landscapes amid the silence of the stones and the pungent aroma of sage, junper and pinyon. It’s been many years since I last visisted this place, and I fear it’s likely unrecognizable now. My memories live on in my photographs, and they will last forever. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)

“South Falls”

South Falls, Silver Falls State Park, Oregon (c) Mike Utley

Silver Falls State Park is located about 20 miles outside of Salem, Oregon and hosts several falls along the 7.2-mile Trail of Ten Falls. It’s a primordial place, shrouded in mist much of the time, still and quiet save for the whisperings of breezes in trees and the roar of falls when the trail weaves its way near one. South Falls is the park’s most iconic fall at 177 feet, and the nearest to the parking area. The hiking trail winds along the cliffside behind the fall and above the dark pool below. Although I always disliked any signs of humans or human activity in my nature photography, in this case the trail (and at least one person visible on it) serves to provide a sense of scale.

My first visit to Silver Falls State Park in early October 1995 yielded this image (among a few others). The size of the fall was impressive; navigating the trail behind the fall was thrilling (and a little damp) and offered a unique perspective. Oregon has more than 238 waterfalls (and more than 1,000, according to the Northwest Waterfalls Survey), and every one I visited during my all-too-brief time in Oregon was fascinating, from the specatcular fairytale setting of Multnomah Falls along I-84 on the Columbia River Gorge to the little six-foot cascasde I photogrraphed on this very trail shortly after making the above image of South Falls (see below).

Small Cascasde on Hillside, Silver Falls State Park, Oregon (c) Mike Utley

These two images were made just before the rainy season began, when the foliage was still predominantly green and skies were blue. Once the rain comes in Oregon’s autumn, it becomes a fixture throughout the fall, winter and spring. A comparison shot of South Falls below shows the same fall from an almost identical perspective on January 1, 1996 after a heavy rain.

South Falls After Heavy Rains, Silver Falls State Park, Oregon (c) Mike Utley

My time in Oregon was far too short. I came back to Utah in January 1996, always planning on returning to Oregon, dreaming of further explorations and adventures in what I consider the most beautiful state I’ve ever visited. Alas, not all dreams come true, and I’ve never made it back to Oregon. I miss the ocean, the mountains, the forests and the waterfalls. I’m landlocked now, here in southwest Colorado, no longer able to drive due medical issues with my legs, and can no longer explore nature with my camera. It’s a sore loss, indeed, but at least I have my old images to serve as reminders of the joy I experienced back then when I could roam the mountains and deserts and forests and coastlines and commune with nature. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)

“Night Thoughts” published at Gobblers & Masticadores

I’d like to announce my poem “Night Thoughts” has been published at Gobblers & Masticadores. Many thanks to Juan Re Crivello and Manuela Timofte and their staff for this opportunity to share my poetry with their readers.

“Night Thoughts”
© 2012 by Michael L. Utley

“I vomit out myself again each night
When lights go out and tired thoughts awake
To find that darkened mere from which to slake
Their thirst for dark dominion. In the bright
And sane pedantic musings of the light
Where every thought, word, deed presumes to take
On tones of gilded gravity, I stake
My soul against the coming evening’s fight.

The day is done; I’m with my thoughts, alone
And sleep cannot—will not—this night prevail.
My mind, a dynamo, begins to race
And images appear as if they’ve grown
In some dark, dank and fetid fen. I quail
As my true self confronts me, face to face…”

You can read the rest of my poem by clicking this link. Also, don’t forget to follow and subscribe to Gobblers & Masticadores, where you’ll find some wonderful writing and plenty of food for thought.

Blogs I Like (and You Might, Too)–5/22/2024

Image (c) Mike Utley

This ongoing initiative showcases blogs with fewer than 500 subscribers which I think are deserving of more attention. Hopefully these blogs will spark your interest and you’ll check them out. It’s my way of spreading awareness of talented writers whose work I admire.

This week’s featured blog is The Mindful Migraine by Linda, a writer who hails from Australia and who has battled chronic migraine for years. Linda’s intimate ken of the painful and debilitating nature of chronic migraine has led her on a road of discovery and recovery which she documents with grace, wit and authenticity on her blog. Her writing style is both engaging and enlightening, complete with her own unique experiences and a wealth of informative resources she’s found along the way which have helped her and may help others who suffer from chronic migraine.

Linda’s blog connected with me immediately. For several years, I also experienced migraines two or three times a week, and nothing I could do brought relief. When I relocated from Utah to Colorado more than eight years ago, the migraines inexplicably ceased, and while I’m grateful for that, I wish I understood why they disappeared so I could share that with others who must deal with constant migraine pain. Linda’s blog is crucial for those who still suffer, and it resonates deeply with me.

I asked Linda if she could share a bit about her experiences. Here’s what she had to say:

Hi, my name is Linda, and I have chronic migraine – but I’m getting better every day by using mindfulness techniques in combination with more traditional medication.  Receiving a migraine diagnosis is the first step in a long and sometimes lonely journey.  From here, you’ll be required to track the things that potentially trigger your migraines (food, hormones, weather) and the ways that you can become more resilient to their tyranny (stay hydrated, sleep-more, stress-less and so on).  Then there’s the dance you’ll perform with your doctors as you try to figure out the best medications for you to try; some will work, some will need to be tweaked, swapped out, or abandoned.  Eventually, you’ll hopefully find a combination of medication and lifestyle choices that works for you.  Migraines are glitchy-critters and you are, well, you-nique… so there’s no “one size fits all solution”.  If you’re reading this as a person with migraine, I’m sorry, know that you’re not alone, and that the treatment options and support resources are improving all the time.  Hang in their friend, and no matter how tired and lonely you get, know that you CAN heal. I’ve gone from being bed-bound 3 days a week, every week for over a year, to only having to go to crash out maybe once every two or three weeks.  I’m still healing, and still learning, and to help you help yourself I write about all the things that work (and don’t) over on my blog – I’d love to see you there, Linda xox

Here are links to three of Linda’s posts to give you an idea of what you’ll find on her blog:

Personal Boundaries for Chronic Pain

(Un)solicited Advice for Migraines

A Letter to Neurologists

As a former migraine sufferer, I appreciate Linda’s journey and her research, invaluable resources, and compassion for those who also endure this agony. As a writer, I enjoy Linda’s gift for crafting informative, entertaining and helpful essays. Her blog is a joy to read because Linda truly cares about people. Thank you, Linda, my friend.

Take a moment and visit The Mindful Migraine, won’t you? Whether you battle migraines or know someone who does, Linda’s blog is incredibly helpful and offers hope that you can live your best life in spite of this persistent malady.

Let’s spread the love and support our fellow bloggers.

“The Barn” published at Gobblers & Masticadores

Hey, everyone. I’d like to announce my poem “The Barn” has been published at Gobblers & Masticadores. Thanks so much to Juan Re Crivello and Manuela Timofte and their staff for this opportunity to share my writing with their readers. I’m truly grateful, Juan and Manuela!

“The Barn”
© 2013 by Michael L. Utley

“On weed-strewn verge of fallow field
The barn still stands, a silent revenant
Of ages past, a mournful sentiment
Amid the dying elms concealed

Its boards the hue of ancient bones
The wind has long since scoured paint away
As season after season rendered gray
Once brilliant lively crimson tones…”

You can read the rest of my poem by clicking this link. Also, don’t forget to follow and subscribe to Gobblers & Masticadores, where you’ll find some wonderful writing and plenty of food for thought.