One of five shots, painting with light out in Fort Vermilion, Alberta. Note that by the front deck/porch the maglite has been turned back toward the camera and captures a streak of light. Also, note the ghosting image of the person at the bottom right corner – that’s me, I’d been there long enough for the exposure to pick me up.
The silhouette of a school playground structure against the backdrop of a churning red sky.
At day’s end, this fiery sky confronted me. I gathered my tripod and camera. Making an image would be about camera placement and framing an appropriate foreground, then working out which aperture settings best served the image. I tried several shots with varying apertures, exposure times and lens lengths. Wide open, the lens limited cloud movement and the sharpness around lights within the scene. At f/22, a sharper image was possible, but lights on the school building blew out at the center and a star effect was produced via the lens shutter leaves.
The scene – a tall tree and playground swings in front of an elementary school. A warmer start to winter has yielded little snow on the ground and a cloud-filled day. The camera faces southwest, and at 3:45 p.m., the sun has fallen beneath the horizon yet is reflected briefly along an interesting billow of clouds producing a fiery red outcome above. High Level is at 58 degrees north. In December, we are familiar with diminishing sunlight. At the winter solstice, we may have the sun for less than five hours in our day. This sight is quirky and unusual at the start of the year’s twelfth month.
Later that night, I would photograph firefighters at a nearby lake – their training for ice rescues would see them plunging into the icy, frigid water and pulling each other out from the ice for their practice.
Quote to Inspire – “To be surprised, to wonder, is to begin to understand (José Ortega y Gasset).”
Listening to – David Gray’s ‘Shine,’ ‘Flame Turns Blue,’ ‘A Clean Pair of Eyes,’ ‘The Other Side,’ ‘My Oh My,’ ‘Babylon,’ and ‘Sail Away.’
In his Greenbelt lecture — Divine Beauty: The Invisible Embrace — John O’Donohue spoke to the fragmentation that marks so much of modern life, and to the work required to gather that fragmentation into meaning. He suggested, too, that there is a particular and remarkable beauty to be found in those who undertake that work — people who engage honestly with their own lives, striving to understand and hold together the threads of experience, memory, and becoming that shape who they are.
The mind is an old crow
Who knows only to gather dead twigs,
Then take them back to the vacancy
Between the branches of the parent tree
And entwine them around the emptiness
With silence and unfailing patience
Until what was fallen, withered and lost
Is now set to fill with dreams a nest.
“This is the art of bringing your mind home, that if your mind [were] able to retrieve and re-weave all that is withered and forlorn and lost in your life, then the integrity of your memory and identity of your life would be incredible [if not beautiful] (Divine Beauty – The Invisible Embrace, John O’Donohue, Greenbelt).
“The presence of beauty is one of the most neglected presences in our contemporary world. Beauty was the word without which the ancient world refused to know itself; beauty was at the heart of everything they considered. In our times, beauty is reduced to glamour. It caters to the surface and the external image. Once you’ve got the up-front hit from it, there’s nothing behind it. Whereas beauty is a far more sophisticated, subtle and really substantial kind of presence (Divine Beauty: The Invisible Embrace, John O’Donohue, Greenbelt).”
It was early November 2011 — the evening after a day of photography training in Vulcan, Alberta. On my own, with camera in hand, I found this farm and spent an hour or so photographing it in the fading light. What drew me in was the visual conversation between the prairie farm and the winter clouds building overhead.
Many years later, I would discover what I had been photographing. This was a CPR demonstration farm, built in 1912 and used by Canadian Pacific Railway to showcase the agricultural potential of southern Alberta to prospective settlers. The CPR sold these fully equipped kit farms to aspiring farmers, and considerable thought had gone into how they were laid out — the placement of the homestead and outbuildings designed to appeal to farmers, whether they encountered the farm in a photograph or stood before it in person. It was, in its own way, a study in the persuasive power of visual presentation.
The farm still stands. I passed it again on 13 August 2023, on a drive from Lethbridge to Edmonton, and it looked much as it had that November evening more than a decade before.
(Source: Chris Doering, “CPR Demonstration Farm,” Off the Beaten Path with Chris & Connie, 9 July 2020)
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder has another meaning. If the beholding eye is gracious and has beautified itself, then it will pick up the beautiful. When we can’t notice the beauty, it is not that it is absent. It is just that our vision and gaze has become coarsened (Divine Beauty: The Invisible Embrace, John O’Donohue, Greenbelt).”
Note – The collage presented here has replaced the single image of a white, late-sixties Ford half-ton in Vavenby, British Columbia.
“Rodin did not concern himself with the beautiful. His art was meticulous, careful and slow. The beautiful comes only in its own terms. ‘Like in the forest when the forest is free of strangers in the evening, the shy animals turn up at the river to drink.’ And, that’s the way the beautiful actually comes (Divine Beauty: The Invisible Embrace, John O’Donohue, Greenbelt).”
“Without beauty, life would be unbearable. We need the beautiful as much as we need love. Beauty and the beautiful are not the preserve of luxus or the elite privileged. Everyone needs it. There are people in the world now who are holding out on the rawest edges of what’s humane – in refugee camps, in prisons, in hospitals, in places of starvation – who are only able to hold out because they’ve got some glimpse of the beautiful. Sometimes beauty is like that. It turns up as a minuscule moment in a dark landscape and recalls us to possibility and inspiration and encouragement. We can hold out in very bleak places if we are in touch with the presence of beauty (John O’Donohue – ‘Divine Beauty, The Invisible Embrace,’ Greenbelt).”
Alzheimer’s disease had found Dad. The life he had built for himself in retirement at Qualicum Beach, British Columbia, was no longer sustainable, and the time had come to bring him closer to family. In the summer of 2011, we moved him home to Edmonton, and what followed was the hard, tender work of clearing his house and settling his estate in preparation for a sale.
The drive back was long — two days behind the wheel. Somewhere near Vavenby, British Columbia, a side road offered a reason to stop. There, half-hidden and quietly rusting, sat a collection of old trucks. Stiff from driving, I got out to stretch — but it was more than the need to move that held me there. These trucks had lived working lives. They had hauled and strained and weathered, and now they rested in the kind of dignified stillness that only time can produce. Something about them engaged my curiosity and imagination in ways that felt, just then, entirely necessary.
The owner gave me permission to photograph them.
Welcome.
If you’ve found your way to this photo blog, you’re likely someone who loves photography, or who simply appreciates what a well-made image can do. Either way, you’re welcome here.
My first photo-a-day project began in 2011 — one photograph every day for a year, born from a belief that daily practice builds something that intention alone never quite can. That project has since grown into an ongoing commitment: learning by doing, day after day, year after year.
The Practice
What drew me to a photo-a-day project in the first place was its insistence on showing up. It creates a productive pressure — to work through a concept or skill, to post the result, and to reflect honestly on what happened. Day by day, that kind of discipline builds something lasting.
The best analogy I know comes from a friend who talks about fitness. He’s serious about strength training, but he also keeps a 5 km run in his back pocket. Every morning, alongside his regular training, he puts in fifty minutes of long, slow cardio — not because he’s preparing for a specific race, but because he never wants to be caught underprepared when life presents an opportunity or a challenge. His point is simple and worth taking seriously: daily practice maintains the strength, stamina, and readiness that matter when the moment arrives.
Photography in My Back Pocket
That’s the spirit that has carried this work forward since 2011. Practicing steadily, year after year, competencies deepen, understandings become more instinctive, and quality results become more consistent. The way I talk about photography has shifted over time, and so has how naturally I reach for a camera within any given day.
The best images come from photographers who are genuinely prepared — who understand their craft and their intent well enough that when the right moment appears, they are ready. That readiness is what daily practice builds, and what I hope to carry forward.
The invitation here is simple: stop by when you can, look around, and say hello. Share a thought, leave a comment, or ask a question. The dialogue has always been as much a part of this as the photographs themselves.
Thank you for stopping by.
Lumens Borealis
In My Back Pocket - Photography 
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