Last Sunday, my wife and I arose early (for us … we are late sleepers in retirement) and set out to visit Arches National Park, three and a half hours away near the small town of Moab, Utah. The drive is a tour of the varying landscape of Utah, starting with the bustling towns like South Jordan, Orem and Provo, and gradually rising into the Wasatch mountains, with snow still on the ground and an occasionally herd of deer grazing by the side of the road. It then drops into the sparsely inhabited countryside with towns like Helper and Price before stretching out into miles of high desert in monochrome sand as far as the horizon. After what seems like forever, hills and mesas begin to appear on the horizon, growing closer and larger with each mile. None of which can prepare you for the technicolor explosion of red and orange and brown that surrounds you as you descend the final miles to the entrance to the park. (more…)
With October here in Utah have come shorter days and cooler evenings, two of nature’s signals to deciduous trees to start shutting down for winter. Accordiing to 
Don’t you love it when you are going through the motions of a mundane day, uninspired and mindless, when suddenly something soul stirring appears right in front of you and (to borrow a saying from my youth) blows your sensory doors in? It could be a herd of antelope in our meadow or the setting sun illuminating the mountains. It is what some of my friends call God showing off … other say Nature in all its glory. Here on Oldereyes – Bud’s Blog, it doesn’t matter which you choose, as long as you take time to notice. And let it move you. Some years ago, I became an avid photographer when I found out that keeping a camera close by keeps me noticing the world around me. Yes, I know, every phone has a camera, but a real camera is better no matter what Apple tries to tell you.
If you drive around our new neighborhood in Daybreak, Utah, you will notice numerous streets named for the robin-sized hawk known as the American Kestral. As a bird-lover, I was anxious to see one by it took a while since: from a distance, they look like any other medium sized bird; they are fairly shy (especially camera shy, more about that in a bit); and their population is in decline as the human population grows. I eventually became adept at spotting them, usually perched on the top of a lamp post or the uppermost branches of a small tree. Having spotted them, I naturally wanted to get a good photograph. 
If you have ever owned a cat (or more correctly, if a cat has ever owned you), you know that cats sleep a lot. According to 
We are currently on a vacation in the Canadian Rockies celebrating the 50th wedding anniversary of Mrs. Eyes and I. Flying into Calgary last Tuesday, the pilot on our Alaska Airlines flight announced that visibility at the airport was very poor due to the dozens of fires burning in British Columbia. That was the first thought I’d given to concerns that the smoke might interfere with the incredible views we hoped to see around Banff and Canmore. Our concerns were confirmed as we pulled into our hotel, the Blackstone Lodge. The towering mountains visible from our room were vague silhouettes against the gray, smoke-filled sky. By Thursday, when we took our first tour of the Banff area, the haze had lifted some but my photographs were hardly what I’d hoped for, color faded toward gray by the smoke in the air. It is interesting how the human eye can perceive the beauty of a scene but the camera can only capture what it sees. 
Suppose you are at a party. Trying to make small talk, you strike up a conversation with someone you don’t know. Sooner or later, you are likely to ask the ubiquitous question, What do you do? If the person replies, I’m a doctor … or even better, I’m a neurosurgeon … you are likely impressed, as well as encouraged that a path for an interesting conversation lies ahead. If your new acquaintance says, I’m an engineer, not so much on either account. But what if the answer is, I’m an artist? How do respond? With interest or skepticism? Do you subtly check her out to see if she looks like an artist? Are you intimidated? Do you silently wonder, Do you have a real job? If instead of introducing himself as an artist, your new friend says, I’m a painter, do you automatically assume he paints houses? Or, if she says she’s a writer, do you ask, Have written any books? Which means, for sure, Have you published any books? Do you mumble, I don’t now anything about art, and escape to talk to someone else. Or do you say, I used to like art but I wasn’t very good at it? Or, recall that when you began to dabble in drawing, your parents cautioned, You can’t make a living as an artist, you know. 
Older Eyes 