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Often on a hike I become lost in time. Exploring the surrounding. Looking for adventure, looking for a connection, looking for something out of the ordinary that appeals to my senses, appeals to my sense of adventure, the concept of time evaporates along with the world I leave behind.

I am often impressed by what remains of a structure after it has been destroyed. The empty rooms, the vacant windows, the sunlight that strikes the inside of the structure and emitted through the vacant windows make a pleasing site to behold. Ha Ha Tonka State Park Camdenton Missouri.

A vacant bench is a poplar subject for photographers. For me its a symbol of not taking the time to sit and enjoy the greatest show on earth. Too busy with ordinary activities. So let this be an invitation to my viewers to take a few moments today to sit down take a deep breath and notice the little things around you. The ant carnying a load three times his size, a squirrel storing a nut for the coming winter, a song bird sitting in a tree branch broadcasting smooth tunes. This bench is calling you from Otter Slough Boardwalk in Stoddard County Missouri

An Ozark stream at dusk is one of the most tranquil scenes you will ever witness.
I love the pink of the skies that competes with the granite gravel in the stream,
the hint of mist in the hills,
and the eternal flow of the crystal clear water that sings soft music
as it sweeps slowly through the valley.

Big Creek at Sam A Baker State Park.
St Francis Mountains Series

I often think of a swamp as someplace dark and mysterious. The'er not always dark, but almost always mysterious. It has many secrets. The bald knob cypress with its protruding knees, the hoot of the owl that seem to come from nowhere, a distant splash with ripples radiating out, marking the spot of confrontation of perhaps a fish and a fly. The lonesome croak of a bull frog, and clatter of ducks quarreling amongst their selves. I call all this The Harmony of the Swamp. Mingo National Wildlife Refuge, Stoddard County Missouri.

I have heard it said that painters create and photographers see. I would have to agree with this. For the most part I am a seer. I see what most people don't notice. Its my niche in this world. A quite observer, a fly on the wall. Invisible in groups. I feel validated through my work, and an inner peace that comes from fulfillment.

There something mysterious about a road I have never been done. Something calls me to explore. Exploring has always been a key motivation in my life. I want to know whats over the next hill, whats around the bend.

I'm always somewhat amused by the pattern of the cracks in the rocks, they reveal something about the history and composition of the rocks. It might be similar to the pattern in your hands. Palm readers can look at your hand and read into your soul, so they say. I've never been to one so I don't know nothing about it, other than its been around from a long time. Palm readers go back centuries, so there must be something to it to persist this long. Geologist can reveal the soul of rocks by looking at the cracks. We tend to believe the geologist more than the plan readers.

Large rocks in a stream bed remind me of a puzzle. Days are like puzzles. Some days the pieces fit, and we're left feeling complete. Sometimes a piece is missing and we're left with a empty feeling inside, and other times we have too many pieces, and we're left feeing overwhelmed. This puzzle was found at Marble Creek Campground, Madison County Missouri.

After all the trees and bushes are removed. and the soil is washed away, we are left with bedrock. What an odd name; bedrock. It would be hard to sleep in a bed full of rocks. Its the start of the layer of earth called the crust, a thin veneer of contorted, twisted rock fragments that have made it to the surface and through movements of the mantel below have often become distorted, like a car in a head on collision, its hard to make out what it was before the event. At Marble Creek Campground in Madison County we can see some of these fragments protruding through the ground, washed clean by the Marble Creek.