Search

My grandma, Dorothy Reed, is very proud of her flower gardens. She and my grandpa get much joy out of watching the songbirds and butterflies dance through their yard near the Ludington State Park.

Ludington State Park

Bizarre Sky

Ludington State Park

August Blast

My dad has taught me how to use my camera to convey different emotions within the same scene. To portray a peaceful summer evening mood, I stood in the puddle and positioned my camera and tripod inches above the water

As a photojournalist for the Ludington Daily News, I took hundreds of photographs of special events at White Pine Village. The photographs helped tell the story of important historic preservation activities by Mason County Historical Society. One evening, long after my career as a news photographer, I was passing by the closed village. Nature produced a special event, rivaling all factitious events I had enjoyed documenting over the years. It looked as if lightning was striking White Pine Chapel. In reality, reflected sunlight was shining through a break in the clouds. My wife and I were the great illusion's lone spectators.

Cotton Candy

My mental diary of places where I have made, or hope to someday make, a good photograph has long included an entry for the Victory Trinity Lutheran Church in Victory Township, Mason County. In all of the decades I have looked for a picture there during my travels, I have only made two photographs I knew before ever getting the camera and tripod out had all the elements needed for a good picture. This 1980s day was one of those rare times. Sadly, I was heading back toward Ludington on Victory Drive from photographing a horrible fatal car crash on US 31 north of Scottville. As a newspaper reporter and photographer for the Ludington Daily News, covering hard news came with the job, but it was the hardest, most painful part of the job. I was overwhelmed by what I had seen and photographed at that crash site. The last thing on my mind was taking more pictures on this depressing day. But as a visual person, I couldn’t help but see the tremendous clouds overhead blowing toward my favorite country church. As I approached the church, I calculated that I might be able to line the cloud up over the church if I could quickly get to a high spot near a small barn several hundred yards west of the church where the Ruba family had given me permission to go. Thirty seconds later, when I jumped out of my Jeep Cherokee and started running to the peak of a hill overlooking the church and surrounding countryside, I could hardly believe my eyes. I saw a “Jesus Cloud” headed right over the church. I had visions of the Ascension as I worked feverishly to set up the tripod, mount my camera, set the manual exposure and shoot. The incredible view I was privileged to be witnessing and documenting was so uplifting that my spirits were lifted as well. This was a day of extremes in the life of one photojournalist. There were other days with highs and lows but none that stick with me the way this one does.

As I stood in one spot on the edge of Lincoln Lake for over 40 minutes, the sky produced three dramatic color changes. The first display was bright pink with the rising sun. It quickly changed to ruddy-orange and gradually finished with blue-purple. This was my only photograph of that morning that showed the large rays of light shooting toward the heavens.

The base of the Ludington North Breakwater Lighthouse juts seaward like the bow of a ship as the carferry Badger returns to Ludington harbor on a late summer evening.

Epworth Dining Room

Its About to Pour

August looked more like October when I crested a dune to find this view of the Bass Lake dam, the outlet, and Lake Michigan. Like so many small outlets along the Lake Michigan shoreline, the Bass Lake Outlet follows the path of least resistance to the big lake. That path shifts with changing winds and seas.

Few places on Earth offer as grand a view of the sky as the east shore of Lake Michigan. Hikers on the Ludington South Breakwater provide a sense of scale to show the size of storm front clouds arriving in Michigan from Wisconsin.

Cows curious about a visitor lined a fence while two others checked things out from the flapped doorway that allowed them to go in and out of their barn as they pleased. I always looked forward to seeing the cows at a farm along Fountain Road in northern Mason County.

Looking like giant Oreo cookies, these striking cattle graced Larry and Jo Sholtey’s Beef and Bees Farm along South Lakeshore Drive between Ludington and Pentwater. Commonly referred to as Oreo Cookie cows, they are more accurately named belted Galloways, a rare breed of Scottish beef cattle. Larry Sholtey had grown up on a farm. He and Jo raised and showed the distinctive, thick-coated cattle for many years after their retirement from Ludington High School, where Jo taught and Larry was principal. I always enjoyed seeing the “Cookie Cows,” occasionally stopping when I thought I saw the makings of a good photograph. I made several images over the years that pleased me but none that wowed me. Then one summer afternoon I spotted them grazing on some Queen Anne’s Lace in a corner of their pasture. I couldn’t stop fast enough. I had not visualized this picture, but I instantly recognized how extraordinary it was. Untold numbers of passersby enjoyed seeing Larry and Jo’s cattle until Larry became too ill to care for them. I will always be grateful to Jo and Larry, for happily and graciously sharing these beautiful creatures with me and countless other passersby

Proud as a peacock, a rooster parades about its pen an hour after crowing in another summer day on a small family farm north of Custer.

Looking like giant Oreo cookies, these striking cattle graced Larry and Jo Sholtey’s Beef and Bees Farm along South Lakeshore Drive between Ludington and Pentwater. Commonly referred to as Oreo Cookie cows, they are more accurately named belted Galloways, a rare breed of Scottish beef cattle. Larry Sholtey had grown up on a farm. He and Jo raised and showed the distinctive, thick-coated cattle for many years after their retirement from Ludington High School, where Jo taught and Larry was principal. I always enjoyed seeing the “Cookie Cows,” occasionally stopping when I thought I saw the makings of a good photograph. I made several images over the years that pleased me but none that wowed me. Then one summer afternoon I spotted them grazing on some Queen Anne’s Lace in a corner of their pasture. I couldn’t stop fast enough. I had not visualized this picture, but I instantly recognized how extraordinary it was. Untold numbers of passersby enjoyed seeing Larry and Jo’s cattle until Larry became too ill to care for them. I will always be grateful to Jo and Larry, for happily and graciously sharing these beautiful creatures with me and countless other passersby

Summer Rush