Sometimes the landscape shouts: "Notice me!" I don't mean that pejoratively. Scenes - and places - that demand attention can be absolutely awe-inspiring. They ought to be noticed.

I'm certain you know what I'm talking about. I have no doubt you've heard the natural world in full voice.

Most often, it's something "big" that calls out. Vast swaths of mountains in northern New England painted in fiery autumn color; towering peaks and glaciers in the Wrangell and St. Elias ranges; the massive wilderness of canyons, spires and buttes in Canyonlands National Park; expansive sand dunes in Death Valley; fields of heather as far as the eye can see in the highlands of Scotland.

Wherever and whatever it might be, when confronted with imagery so breathtakingly extraordinary, it's exciting to try and capture the sense of grandeur and feeling of wonder with the camera.

You might create a big landscape - or three.

Listen carefully, though, and you'll soon realize there are more voices: more than you can count. Though it's the loudest of them that first capture your attention, there are whisperers, too. Do you hear what they're saying?

In these softer voices there are many opportunities for photographers.

The whisperers are not ostentatious or flamboyant. They do not demand that you notice them. Perhaps they're a little bit shy. Given a chance, though, they also have something to say - if we pay attention.

These smaller scenes often produce their own awe-inspiring "wow" moments, though discovering them might take a little bit more work.

It's worth the effort. There's a greater likelihood the whispers will result in more unique photographs.

Especially if you're feeling like a location is "worn out," think smaller. Try not to pay as much attention to the shouting and listen instead for quieter voices.

Following are examples of both types of scenes in areas known for exuberant landscapes. First up, Grand Teton National Park.

I'll begin by disagreeing with those who would steer you away from iconic locations and advise you not to create big landscapes. There is nothing wrong with either of those things. If that's what you find interesting, go for it! Especially if it's your first time visiting a place - like the Tetons, for example - why wouldn't you head for some well-known spots to see them for yourself? As always, try to find a way to put your own stamp on the images you create.

The Tetons shout. They are very, very loud. (I mean this in the best possible way!) There are "look at me" settings everywhere in the park because the mountains are in your face with no foothills to obscure the views.

This first image, while technically a "shouter," also has an intentionally softer, dreamier feel to it. This is Mount Moran in late summer well before the sun came up. Given that there was quite a bit of cloud cover, I wanted to shoot while it was still rather dark so I could go with very long exposures to capture the movement overhead.

But what about mornings when there are zero clouds in the sky? Or when you'd just rather find a spot where you know you'll be alone? These are perfect times to look for quieter subject matter.

I always like to watch the rising sun light the Teton Range, whether or not I'm going to photograph it. I can't think of a better way to start the day.

This next photograph was made on a cloudless morning; I had zero interest in doing anything photographically involving the mountains. After watching the sun come up, I drove up the road a ways and found a field of wildflowers still in deep shade. I spent the next 90 minutes or so working with the blooms. (By myself, over the July 4th weekend, in a national park.)

Next, it's Hidden Falls, located on the northwest side of Jenny Lake. Photographs of waterfalls can easily come across as "record shots," simply capturing the entire vertical drop. If there isn't an interesting way of composing the water, I look for something else. The sun on this morning was just beginning to filter through the trees on either side of the cascade. The lighting felt ethereal; that's what I wanted to capture.

Autumn in New England: put it on your bucket list if you've never experienced it.

Beginning with a landscape singing, "Look at me!" this is lovely Mount Chocorua and Chocorua Lake in Tamworth, New Hampshire. As much as I enjoy trying to find new ways to depict spectacular expanses of vibrant, intense color, it's also a kick to find smaller vignettes depicting what I refer to as the Greatest Show on Earth.

I've never seen ferns turn bright orange in autumn the way they do in Acadia National Park. It wasn't until my third visit to the park that I finally found a way to capture them to my liking.

The remnants of a hurricane were fast approaching; I'd been one step ahead of it coming across from New Hampshire. I knew I had very little time to work before the sky opened up. I scrambled to reach the ferns and found this maple leaf resting on one of them, covered with droplets of rain. At first I was disappointed the leaf had come to rest colorful-side-down, but I quickly changed my mind. The neutral leaf color means there's nothing to compete with all that orange, and it further accentuates the beads of water.

The biggest challenge was keeping the fern from moving with all the rain coming down. For that, my umbrella came to the rescue.

Sometimes there's just as much color underfoot as in the canopy above. Late one afternoon I was running an errand (just a few miles from my house) but happened to have my camera with me when I stumbled across this scene. I was struck by just how deep the carpet of leaves were. This is one of my favorite abstract compositions of the foliage in New Hampshire.

Finally, another one of my favorite places: Moab, Utah. Here you'll find two national parks, one really nice state park, and lots of fantastic backcountry. What's not to like? The landscape does its fair share of shouting in this area, too:

But there is so much more. Quieter scenes surround us...like this graceful cottonwood.

As you'll see from the second image, intentional camera movement is another mechanism that can be used to interpret nature in a different way. While I'm not sure I'd describe the vibrant colors of the desert as quiet voices, distilling a scene to its essence (color), could be construed as more of a subdued voice.

Listen for the whispers!