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Orvis the dog watched intently as professional fishing guide Chris “Uber” Raines defied the wintery weather to fly fish for steelhead on a flies-only stretch of the Pere Marquette River near Baldwin. The stretch of the National Wild and Scenic River known as the Claybanks looked like a winter wonderland as the biggest, stickiest snowflakes I had ever seen clung to everything in sight. “There is something almost magical about standing in the river as the water sweeps past you and the snow is coming down; it’s mesmerizing,” Raines said. This was a perfect day for die-hard fishermen, Labrador Retrievers and photographers. It didn’t start out that way. January 17, 2012, started out with pouring rain. Brad and I had committed to a yearlong book project, photographing Michigan all day each Tuesday of the year. This was the third Tuesday, so we had to find a way to make good images despite the ugly weather. We say, “bad is good” in outdoor photography, meaning that often the best images are made in the worst weather. I spotted and photographed misty-looking Emerson Lake near Walhalla with a giant weeping willow in the foreground making the scene appear more mystic. Ten more miles down the road Brad spotted a scene sure to brighten the gloomiest shooting day—bright red winter berries amidst cattails. The rain and mist softened the swampy background and made the winter berries rocket out of the scene far more than they would on a sunny day. Even with two good images in the bank, it looked like a very challenging day to make strong book images that would wow people. But onward we went; we were not about to give up. Michigan would surely find a way to deliver on her worst day. By mid-morning we had worked our way to the Pere Marquette Lodge Orvis fishing shop south of Baldwin, hoping to learn where we could photograph some trout fishermen. While owner Frank was obliging us by arranging for us to rendezvous with one of his guides who’d be doing some off-duty fishing, we noticed the rain was turning to snow. A half-hour later, when we started hiking a wooded trail to the river at Claybanks, the world had been transformed into a fairyland. Chris was hoping the fishing would be good. Brad and I knew at that point we were going to catch some magical photographic moments. We each did. This image wound up being my favorite shot of the entire year-long book project, during which I tripped the shutter more than 20,000 times. I sure was glad we overcame our gloomy attitudes at the start of that rainy morning and kept on keeping on. “Don’t be a quitter,” is a lesson my dad insistently taught me, and I’m glad the lesson stuck.

I have been trying every which way to make a portrait of this beautiful horse utilizing some nearby sumac as the backdrop. I concentrate on seeing the relationship between the horse and the sumac while also trying to capture a moment when the horse looks best. My telephoto zoom lens helps me simplify and fine-tune the composition.

Swan on Lincoln Lake in Front of Epworth

Frozen Hearts

Waking up to a frosty wonderland, I was on the lookout for a subject to showcase its beauty. These frozen pine needles on Budzynski Road were just the thing.

I have photographed dozens of storms with waves as big as or bigger than those I shot during this February 1995 storm, but this image remains one of my favorite storm images because of the wave’s shape, position in relationship to the Ludington lighthouse, position of the seagulls and drama created by the storm light. I consider this image “perfectly poetic.” As my Grandma Reed liked to say about her small but precisely designed and tastefully decorated home: “There is a place for everything, and everything in its place.” I made dozens of exposures on Fuji Velvia film this day, none so perfectly poetic as this one. My youngest son, Willie, and I watched this February storm for hours, capturing photographic moments during lulls in the blizzard. As sunset neared, I prayed for storm light. If this magic light arrived, it would appear shortly before sunset, and only if the sun could find its way through, or beneath, a band of boiling clouds skirting the distant horizon. It is a photographer’s game of hide-and-seek I have played with the sun and clouds thousands of times. I love winning, but experience has taught me that I am more likely to lose or at least not win big. This time, as I had envisioned, sunlight broke from beneath the clouds, backlighting the waves and the lighthouse. Rewarded by the knowledge of what could happen and by perseverance, Willie and I were oblivious to the gale winds pummeling us as we witnessed the magic light and lake’s fury come together against the storm cloud backdrop.

January 22, 2010” “He is risen!” That familiar Christian declaration of faith in Jesus as savior came to mind on January 22, 2010 as I lined up the sun with the cross marking the long-recognized death site of missionary explorer Pere Jacques Marquette. According to the Jesuits, Father Marquette died on May 18, 1675, near this hilly spot between Pere Marquette Lake and Lake Michigan. I had been trying to make a sunset image like this for years, regularly scouting the potential from across Pere Marquette Lake during evening drives home. On this day the cross, sun, clouds and color combined to create a view better than I had ever imagined. One glance told me this was the day! But the sun was not quite lined up. I quickly calculated that if I could get to the end of the Ludington Yacht Club peninsula in time, everything might align. I drove the two blocks quickly, jumped out of my truck with my camera, 500-millimeter lens and tripod and ran until I ran out of land. Still the sun did not line up with the cross. Fortunately, a cold spell had built up the ice on Pere Marquette Lake. I did not hesitate to keep sprinting onto the ice. Twenty yards of running without falling on the slick ice later, everything lined up. I mounted the camera on the tripod, fine-tuned the tripod position and fired. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for good ice. I lived a few blocks away from this cross for more than a dozen years. During all those years of passing by the monument, almost daily, I had made only a few images of the cross that pleased me. None of them held a candle to this one. This image is especially dear to my heart not only because of its Christian symbolism but also because I have always loved and valued history, including the history of Father Marquette’s Ludington connection. Ludington was recognized as the death site of Father Marquette by generations of local Native Americans and settlers. In fact, when the area was first settled, Ludington was named Pere Marquette in honor of Father Marquette. The town was years later renamed Ludington in 1864 at the request of the most powerful lumberman in Pere Marquette at the time, James Ludington. The Pere Marquette River, Pere Marquette Lake, a street, a township and much more remain named Pere Marquette. Many different crosses have marked this spot over the centuries. This cross was erected in the 1950s as a community project. In 2019 and 2020, a new base for the cross was built through another community effort, and the cross has been put back in place to tower over Pere Marquette Lake. A lot of people believe that cross belongs there; I am one of them.

After spending a wonderful night on Old Mission Peninsula with one of my dad's best life-long friends, Andy Gaines, and his wife Wendy, we spotted this scene alongside the road the next morning. As we often do, we pulled over and I hopped out to build a picture I have always dreamed about making.

A well-known fishing hole in front of our family cabin on a large bend in the Pere Marquette River looks tranquil in the sunshine this morning. We often try to put leading lines in the exact lower corners of our compositions. It is not an accident that the water and ice meet in the bottom left corner of this image.

A great challenge for my dad and me is to find new and creative ways to photograph the same subject. Fortunately, the ever-changing skies of the Lake Michigan shoreline work in our favor. On this morning, I had just captured the Little Sable Christmas Eve image and I was determined to find another beautiful photograph of the lighthouse. With the snow no longer falling, I waited for a fleeting moment of sunshine to illuminate the lighthouse against a stormy sky.

January 22, 2010” “He is risen!” That familiar Christian declaration of faith in Jesus as savior came to mind on January 22, 2010 as I lined up the sun with the cross marking the long-recognized death site of missionary explorer Pere Jacques Marquette. According to the Jesuits, Father Marquette died on May 18, 1675, near this hilly spot between Pere Marquette Lake and Lake Michigan. I had been trying to make a sunset image like this for years, regularly scouting the potential from across Pere Marquette Lake during evening drives home. On this day the cross, sun, clouds and color combined to create a view better than I had ever imagined. One glance told me this was the day! But the sun was not quite lined up. I quickly calculated that if I could get to the end of the Ludington Yacht Club peninsula in time, everything might align. I drove the two blocks quickly, jumped out of my truck with my camera, 500-millimeter lens and tripod and ran until I ran out of land. Still the sun did not line up with the cross. Fortunately, a cold spell had built up the ice on Pere Marquette Lake. I did not hesitate to keep sprinting onto the ice. Twenty yards of running without falling on the slick ice later, everything lined up. I mounted the camera on the tripod, fine-tuned the tripod position and fired. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for good ice. I lived a few blocks away from this cross for more than a dozen years. During all those years of passing by the monument, almost daily, I had made only a few images of the cross that pleased me. None of them held a candle to this one. This image is especially dear to my heart not only because of its Christian symbolism but also because I have always loved and valued history, including the history of Father Marquette’s Ludington connection. Ludington was recognized as the death site of Father Marquette by generations of local Native Americans and settlers. In fact, when the area was first settled, Ludington was named Pere Marquette in honor of Father Marquette. The town was years later renamed Ludington in 1864 at the request of the most powerful lumberman in Pere Marquette at the time, James Ludington. The Pere Marquette River, Pere Marquette Lake, a street, a township and much more remain named Pere Marquette. Many different crosses have marked this spot over the centuries. This cross was erected in the 1950s as a community project. In 2019 and 2020, a new base for the cross was built through another community effort, and the cross has been put back in place to tower over Pere Marquette Lake. A lot of people believe that cross belongs there; I am one of them.

Little things can make or break an image. Straight horizontal lines in a photograph can be extremely destructive to the flow of a composition. This photograph would not work if it were not for the three diagonal lines in the sky. The diagonal lines get the viewer's eyes moving around the photograph and lead one's attention to the lighthouse.

I would love to hear the stories from all the different farmers who have worked this old tractor between Honor and Empire, Michigan. The farming life really intrigues me. Someday!

Little things can make or break an image. Straight horizontal lines in a photograph can be extremely destructive to the flow of a composition. This photograph would not work if it were not for the three diagonal lines in the sky. The diagonal lines get the viewer's eyes moving around the photograph and lead one's attention to the lighthouse. D7000, F22 at 1/30, 100 ISO, 70-200mm lens at 185mm

Ice Fortress

I love black-and-white photographs. Driving around near Free Soil, this part of the North Branch of the Lincoln River was the black-and-white dream I was looking for.

This is my favorite tree to photograph in Mason County. This scene is on Kinney Road just east of Old US-31. To date, this is the best piece of art I have made of this scene.

I photographed Ludington State Park for several hours on a glorious January morning after the biggest snowfall of the winter. Then it occurred to me that a spot where I had taken a photograph of fall color might also look spectacular in winter. A half-hour of hiking later, I was making this picture. The two shots show how places that are beautiful in one season may well be beautiful in another.

I was running out of daylight yesterday and worried that I would have to shoot my photo of the day for the 365 Project in the dark, when the sun broke through the thick cloud layer and cast magic light along the Lake Michigan shoreline. I quickly found some beautiful grass to frame my photograph. F2.8 at 1/6400, ISO 640, 18-50 mm lens at 50 mm