On a side note, this and other images appear pixelated at Gobblers due to being too small in size to be displayed any larger than 4×6 or so, so please forgive the lack of sharpness—the originals are tack-sharp and can be found on my blog in the Nature Photography section.
You can view the image and its accompanying commentary here:
Hi, everyone. I wanted to let you know another of my nature photography images titled “Sandstone Pillars & La Sal Mountains” has been featured at Gobblers by Masticadores. I truly appreciate Editor Manuela Timofte’s kindness in sharing my passion for nature photography with all of you. Thank you, Manuela.
You can view the image and its accompanying commentary here:
Hi, friends. Recently, I’ve had a couple of my nature photography images titled “Heceta Head Lighthouse” and “Sea Stacks Near Newport” featured at Gobblers by Masticadores. Many thanks to Editor Manuela Timofte for her kindness in sharing my passion for nature photography with all of you. I’m truly grateful, Manuela.
You can view the images and their accompanying commentaries here:
Hi, folks. I’d like to let you know one of my nature photography images titled “Sheep Mountain & Beaver Pond” has been featured at Gobblers by Masticadores. I appreciate Editor Manuela Timofte sharing my passion for nature photography with all of you. Thank you kindly, Manuela. I hope you enjoy seeing the natural world through my eyes.
You can view the image and its accompanying commentary here:
Hey, friends. I’m excited to let you know one of my nature photography images titled “Rock, Sheep Mountain & Trout Lake” has been featured at Gobblers by Masticadores. Many thanks to Editor Manuela Timofte for choosing to share my passion for nature photography with all of you. I’m truly grateful, and I hope you enjoy seeing the natural world through my eyes.
You can view the image and its accompanying commentary here:
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)
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, 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)
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 Fata Cu Suflet De Cerneală (The Girl with the Ink Soul) by Romanian poet Bianca Alina. My first experience with Bianca’s poetry occurred last year when I saw some of her work published at the various Masticadores literary sites. I was immediately entranced by the passion and intensity of her romantic poetry, her deft skill with words and her deep understanding of the human heart and all it desires. Bianca’s poems speak to the secret yearnings of the heart, the longing for closeness, the sorrow of heartbreak and the singular joy of intimate love. Her words paint beautiful, poignant panoramas of human relationships and emotions and have a unique way of touching the hearts and souls of readers. What’s more, Bianca’s blog also features her original nature photography, and gorgeous images abound. Bianca’s talent is boundless and rejuvenating, and her universal themes of love resonate with all of us.
I asked if Bianca could share a bit about herself:
“I live in Romania. I am very passionate about poetry, learning new languages, and nature photography.
My mother is the one who taught me that language has power. I inherited from her the passion for writing.
I wrote my first poem when I was 11 years old. At 16 years old, I had a few poems published in the high school magazine. I continued writing poetry throughout my university years, but I didn’t publish any poems online. Then, I got my first job and I stopped writing for a long time.
I returned to poetry in 2022, when I started writing on my blog:
Bianca’s poetry reminds us of the love and passion we all carry in our hearts, that desire and intimacy are powerful emotions that both hurt and heal, and that the magic of romance enhances our lives. Take some time and indulge yourselves in Fata Cu Suflet De Cerneală (The Girl with the Ink Soul), where the finest poetry of the heart awaits.
Let’s spread the love and support our fellow bloggers.
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 Ashley’s A Different View. I first met Ashley in November 2021 when he and I were both invited to take part in a discussion titled “Exploring Basho’s Moon,” an examination of one of Basho’s famous haiku, hosted by Mark Scott’s Season Words blog. I found Ashley to be the kindest fellow imaginable, and his delicate skill regarding the writing of traditional haiku was astounding. Since then, I’ve come to consider Ashley a good friend of mine, someone whose love of nature and poetic ability create a sense of peace and serenity. Ashley speaks my language, you could say, and his blog is a calm harbor of natural beauty and exemplary writing.
I asked Ashely if he’d like to provide a little background about himself and his blog. I’ll let his own words do the talking:
I’m 74 years old and married to Carol for 52 years although we were courting about 5 years before that so we’ve been together for at least 57 years
whilst Carol has had so much illness in her life (cancer x 4 + heart problems) SHE is still my rock
I’m a great grandfather
I was born in the city of Armagh in Northern Ireland to northern English parents
Armagh was the ancient capital of Christian Ireland & whilst no longer a practicing Christian, the sound of cathedral bells is in my heart (see John Betjeman: Summoned By Bells)
left home at 21 to live & work in London, UK. Work location then was close to the River Thames & that river flows within me still
30 years spent living & working in England in the clothing industry: after redundancy, aged 45, worked in various jobs (transport, retail, health service) now retired
returned to NI some years ago
did voluntary work with the Woodland Trust (30+ years). LOVE trees, obsessed by them
through WordPress discovered haiku & writing in season
have always wanted to write & illustrate
lower back problems meant that I restarted my life, exercising daily, a mixture of physio exercises & Qi Gong
I have only ever travelled outside the UK about 3 or 4 times but follow blogs all around the world. With tools like Google Translate I am amazed how many different cultures & languages I am able to connect with
I love the simplicity of seasonal haiku
I would be remiss were I not to mention that one thing I find intriguing about Ashley’s blog is that I have some Irish ancestry, and the Emerald Isle is a land I’ve always wanted to explore. I’m able to do that vicariously through Ashley’s writing and photography. Ashley’s essays take us on strolls through the Irish countryside among wild flowers and the trees he loves so dearly, and his haiku–distilled to their very essence–paint glorious pictures of the natural world. For an example of what A Different View offers, here’s a post Ashley chose to share:
In a nutshell, if you love nature, if you appreciate fine Japanese short-form poetry, if you’ve ever felt the desire to travel to Ireland, Ashley’s A Different View has it all. I hope you’ll visit Ashley’s blog and walk along with him among the trees.
Let’s spread the love and support our fellow bloggers.
Silent Pariah 