Are nature photographers storytellers? 

With our images, quite often we're trying to convey ideas, emotions, or a mood. We see something beyond the elements: mountains, rivers, meadows, trees, clouds. It's what draws us to the subject in the first place.

So yes, our photographs tell stories. The viewer's interpretation may differ from the story we envision, but if we're successful, a narrative or an emotion is being communicated.

Getting beyond the record shot to the point where you're creating something more interpretive takes practice.

Take spring, for example.

Who isn't captivated by nature's exuberant springtime display? This is especially dramatic in northern climates. The landscape which was so recently monochromatic and a little bit drab comes alive; suddenly it's lush and green. When I lived in New England, I heard spring referred to as "the other foliage season." How accurate! New foliage boasts more shades of green than I can find the words to describe.

Then there are the flowers. Ornamental trees and shrubs are covered with blooms. Perennials reappear from beds that were, just a few weeks ago, barren. Color makes a big, bold comeback.

To me, there is nothing as exhilarating - and as captivatingly beautiful - as nature in the spring.  

But how can we convey that feeling? How do we get beyond the documentary photograph?

For me, the answer has been to go close. 

I look for little vignettes. You'll find me walking slowly around my ornamentals, inspecting each branch for opportunities. I check on them multiple times a day and in different light. I take advantage of different types of weather.

There isn't much time to work. Blooms don't last long, especially in the high-wind climate which I now call home. Depending on the variety of tree, flowers may only be in peak condition for a few days. As for the perennials, some are in such a hurry to grow that they change literally from one day to the next. 

There are three lenses I rely on to do this type of work: my LensBaby Velvet 56, my Nikkor 105 macro, and depending on the situation, I might use a long lens (typically a Nikkor 70-200).  

The spring show was, for me, more muted this year than anticipated; I was supposed to be working in the Chicago Botanic Garden two weeks ago, but that trip had to be scrapped. Eastern Idaho is a far cry from the Midwest. Lush is not a word used to describe this part of the world. Still, there's always enough of a show in my own gardens to get something done.

This is a sampling of what I saw (and felt) just outside my door:

Delicate and Elegant
The "pretty in pink" blooms on my miniature orchard populated with Raindrop crabapple trees felt like a lovely pastel dream.

Tears of Joy
Eastern Idaho is a semi-arid climate, so rainy days are uncommon. On this morning, I got the ultimate gift: drizzle and calm conditions.
Snow Drop crabapple

A Royal Welcome
Ludwig Spaeth Lilac
I've got a bumper crop of lilac blooms this year. With 16 of these shrubs in a hedgeline, I had plenty of options from which to choose. I searched until I found a cluster that was just opening. This single, fully-open flower surrounded by buds was perfect. Ludwig seems such a perfect name for these shrubs, both for the kingly allusion as well as the color. When they first open, the flowers are more of a plum color (above), but they mature into a deep, rich purple. 

Grand Entrance
Unfurling hostas: geometry in the garden. Early hostas always seem to me as if they're dressed in capes, which they're preparing to swing open in grand fashion.

Use your imagination. Think in terms of metaphors. The entire blooming tree is beautiful, and - if you're like me - gazing at it will put a song in your heart. But you might want to look more closely to find the story.  

In Local News

May has been terrible for grizzlies in Grand Teton National Park, and we're only halfway into the month. Tuesday, two of Grizzly 1063's (aka Fritter) three yearling cubs were found dead near Colter Bay. There were signs that the COYs had been attacked and killed by a larger grizzly. This does happen; adult males sometimes go after cubs that aren't theirs hoping to mate with the adult female. This is why 399 was often seen closer to roadways and in proximity to humans. She knew this would keep her youngsters safe from males who wanted to harm them.

Since this occurred Fritter has been spotted alone; the wellbeing and/or whereabouts of her third cub are unknown.

Earlier, Fritter and her three cubs had been aggressively hazed by the park service. Did the hazing result in the separation of mama and her babies, putting the latter at risk? I didn't witness it first-hand, so don't know the answer. One can't help but wonder.

In less than two weeks, three grizzlies have died - yet many are adamant that there are too many bears in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. This is absurd.