
The day was warm and the sky was blue and cloudless -- perfect weather in most folks’ minds, I guess. Perfect, unless you happen to have a camera in hand with the intention of making a nature photograph.
Fifty-two of us gathered recently at a local environmental center for a photo workshop, where I’d been asked to be one of the instructors. A group of about 10 people assembled around me, and I sensed that I should step forward like an Eagle Scout and exhibit some Leadership. I figured that if I was a student at this workshop, I would hope that my instructor would seem positive and inspiring.
Sweating in the hot sun, I was feeling anything but positive. “This weather sucks,” I thought to myself. The light was harsh and contrasty. It hadn’t rained for weeks and weeks, and a lot of plants I saw around me looked like they were holding their breath, waiting for autumn.
Still, our group headed off to the nearby area that workshop organizers had assigned us to photograph: a small, marshy, freshwater lake. We hiked first as a group; then we spread out, each individual appearing to find something interesting to work with. Some people photographed the reeds at the edge of the lake; others shot ferns and mosses growing in the trees. Several of my own pictures from that day are posted here.
Near the end of our time together I asked the folks in our group to gather and, one-by-one, we used the magic screens on the backs of our digital cameras to show others what we’d shot. It was a very cool time of sharing what in most cases was unique and personal vision. I experienced a Mother Bird Moment, being proud of what the baby birds found outside our nest.

