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Some of the first and last snowfalls of the season are often the most picturesque because of the better odds of higher temperatures that produce snow that sticks like glue. On this early November morning, I made certain I was at Ludington State Park shortly after daylight to start my search for snow shots before the wind started stirring and blowing the snow off the trees. When I spotted this scene along the Sable River I knew I had found what I was looking for

Cameras do lie! This lawn ornament is a small, but working, windmill at the Greene Farm on Conrad Road. The super dramatic sky and cool blue light this morning really added the drama I needed to get the feeling I wanted for this image.

For years, my mom's family has called this the "deer shack." We would use the old wood stove inside the abandoned shack for a venison fry and all my aunts, uncles and cousins would have a hoedown. Unfortunately, time has taken its toll on the old house and the roof has started to cave in. F5.6 at 1/200, ISO 500, 18-50 mm lens at 50 mm

Fall Leaves on Conrad Road

Fall Leaves near a barn on Conrad Road

Fall on Conrad Road

Fall Leaves on Conrad Road

A Sunday ride on an autumn afternoon is one of the best things about Michigan. We all have favorite spots we visit year after year to check out the fall color. This is my favorite tunnel of trees and the best image I have ever made there. I had been driving Conrad Road between Ludington and Scottville east and west for days to check the progress of the leaf color change on the massive old maple trees lining each side of the Polcin Farm. On this day, October 10, 2010, the trees and the light looked picture perfect. I set up my tripod in the middle of the road and carefully designed the image in my viewfinder. My camera had live-view capability, but I have studied images in a viewfinder for so long, I prefer, if the situation permits, to be able to still see the world through that little eye hole. I made certain to include everything inside the borders of my viewfinder that I wanted and to include nothing I did not want. Unless we are photographing fast-moving objects where it is impossible to see and evaluate everything visible through the finder instantaneously, Brad and I each painstakingly try to finish in-camera the composition of every image we make. Most of our artwork is therefore created in a 2X by 3X proportion because that is the proportion of traditional 35-millimeter film and now traditionally-proportioned digital sensors. I loved everything I saw in the viewfinder when I triggered my cable shutter release at this moment. Moments later, two people on bicycles pedaled over the hill at the back of the scene. I fired off a few quick shots to capture a peak moment of this added ingredient to the scene. Brad and I like to teach our workshop students that if an element doesn’t add to a scene, it probably detracts. The bicycle riders definitely added a human and storytelling element and, dwarfed by the giant trees, a “little person in the big world” sense of scale. As fine art, I prefer the naturalness of the image I made without the bicyclists, and that is why I selected that one for this book. But the storytelling image with the bicyclists is the one that the national-award-winning Pure Michigan tourism promotion campaign selected for billboards. They wanted the people looking at those billboards to imagine themselves pedaling their bikes in such a spectacular Michigan place. Brad and I pride ourselves on being visual storytellers; I love telling Michigan’s beautiful stories with my cameras.

The canopy that these maple trees drape over the roadway is one of the many reasons Conrad Road, between Ludington and Scottville, is one of my favorite stretches to drive. Photo hunting along area rural roads has been a favorite endeavor for decades. I have discovered countless unforgettable scenes and many memorable friendly people in my travels.

Many times I passed this old house on the road from Shelby to Silver Lake but one autumn afternoon the setting screamed out at me to stop. Sumac blared out from the yard like a police car's siren. I love road hunting with my camera. I have driven tens of thousands of miles, down highways and byways, looking for new pictures or fresh views of pictures previously taken. Some days I never find a good picture. On other days they just seem to keep appearing. This was one of those days.

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.

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.

When I pass the long-abandoned farm home on Sugar Grove Road northeast of Scottville, I marvel at seeing the old Chrysler Imperial; it seems to belong in the yard of an abandoned farm home. Both car and brick home look like flamboyant works of art that have seen better days.

My stepmom's mother, Marjorie Brye Vyse, attended this old school house in her youth. The school sits vacant today on the corner of Hawley Road and Old US 31. I find it fascinating how Mother Earth is slowly reclaiming this building. F8.0 at 1/200, ISO 100, 18-50 mm lens at 18 mm

My stepmom's mother, Marjorie Brye Vyse, attended this old school house in her youth. The school sits vacant today on the corner of Hawley Road and Old US 31. I find it fascinating how Mother Earth is slowly reclaiming this building. F8.0 at 1/200, ISO 100, 18-50 mm lens at 18 mm

A fresh coat of snow was just what an old Sanders Meat Packing delivery truck needed to look its best. Long after serving the still thriving Custer business, the pickup stood at Patton's Junkyard as a reminder of the good old days.

The morning after the biggest snowfall of the winter, my son Brad and I were out early looking for pictures. The wind usually whisks most of the snow off the trees before 10:00AM. After 20 miles of looking without any satisfying shooting, we found our shot. An abandoned farm home between Custer and Fountain on Custer Road I had photographed in other seasons looked its best painted in snow.

For more than a quarter century, I have watched a once impressive farm north of Custer fading away. The painstakingly trimmed house where a proud family once lived was among the first buildings ravaged by the elements, vandals, and scavengers. The house has collapsed since I recorded this scene. Despite the decay of the old farm, I still find it sadly beautiful and continue to watch and record its slow death.