2025 Reflections
It’s that time of year when I take a step back and look back on the year, the experiences, and the photographs. These reflections are always meaningful to revisit, and they give me a window into what my year looked like photographically and offer a way to quietly relive those moments. I often feel like I need to get these thoughts out before the new year so that I can enter it with a clean slate.
Morning light illuminates delicate ice crystals floating in the frigid air.
2025 was a year of rebuilding for me. We hear that term often in sports and business, and it feels like the most accurate way to describe what this year was like to experience. I did not have as much time for my photography as I would have liked. Much of my energy went into teaching and working on others' projects, and, honestly, at times, I just wasn't fully connected to my work. I moved quietly through my photography this year, sharing very little new work publicly. I needed space to find my voice and sense of purpose again as I approach my tenth year as a professional photographer. Ebbs and flows are natural, but as the year went on, I realized I was not entirely happy with how I was spending my time. I am a natural people pleaser, and for the first time in a long time, I began putting myself first and saying no to things that pulled me away from my own work. That was something I had not done in many years.
While we spent a good amount of time on the road, we were home for the entire summer. That time allowed me to slow down and regain focus, fitness, and clarity. The summer also brought the biggest change of all when we lost our last cat, Maui. After eighteen years of having a feline companion, and two years after saying goodbye to her sister, we were gutted and completely devastated. I lost a part of my identity. Maui was my last connection to a life where I was a very different person, living a very different existence. Her loss left me feeling untethered, not only in grief, but in the realization that a chapter had fully closed and a new one was beginning. New doors opened after her passing, keeping us busy, and slowly we adjusted to a new normal, one that was sometimes difficult to settle into.
The year also held incredible highs. I became the new editor of Nature Vision Magazine, and David and I were entrusted with the future of the Moab Photography Symposium after Bruce Hucko passed the torch to us as the next directors. The symposium was one of the first events I attended as a new photographer, and being trusted to carry its legacy forward brought many happy tears and a deep sense of gratitude. It has been, without question, one of the most inspiring events we have attended over the years, and we are excited and honored to continue its legacy and help it inspire others for years to come.
I also released my 2022 365 project into the world. Each month brought thoughtful, heartfelt feedback from people who shared what the project meant to them and how it inspired their own creative practices. It felt good to finally let that work go after wrestling with doubts about my confidence for many years.
2025 was also the year I returned to the sea. I will be sharing a full blog post about that experience soon, but after twenty years away from the underwater world that shaped so much of my childhood, I returned with a camera in hand. That quiet homecoming became one of the year's most defining moments for me.
My adventures this year were driven more by experience than photography. Choosing slowness and presence over productivity shaped many of our travels. Below, you will find sixteen of my favorite experiences from the past year. These are not the most popular or attention-grabbing images from social media; instead, they are the photographs that resonated most with me, and each includes a brief backstory. Looking ahead to 2026, I have many exciting plans as I continue to refocus on myself and my craft. A book (an actual book!) is taking shape and will be released in the spring. I will be writing more, sharing more photographs, and giving my website the update it has long needed. I am excited to continue teaching and sharing the quiet, beautiful moments of this planet we call home. Thank you all for the support, kindness, and encouragement this year. I hope you, too, find peace and happiness in the year ahead.
Wolves sit on a hillside surveying the landscape with watchful eyes.
We began the year immersed in the wild beauty of a winter wonderland in Yellowstone National Park. We shared many beautiful moments with the Wapiti wolf pack, and the weather delivered incredible conditions that delighted not only David and me, but also our workshop group. I could not have imagined a better way to start the new year than exploring and photographing in my favorite place. I also found myself focusing more on wildlife, something I have not spent much time on in the past.
A fox takes a moment to think about his next move.
The morning sun breaks through a sub-zero morning atmosphere.
Spring found us exploring Utah and spending much of our time in Capitol Reef National Park. That time helped me rediscover my photographic focus and vision. I wandered the canyons and desert landscapes, slowing to photograph the quiet stories tucked into the land. I walked away from that trip feeling a bit more creative and back in familiar territory with my photography.
Natural oil strands and bubbles in a puddle, reflect the sky and reflected light in a canyon.
A small pine tree takes shelter in a cove of late afternoon light, high up on a canyon wall.
We spent most of July in the Colorado mountains, enjoying wildflowers and teaching. During my 365 project, I practiced multiple-exposure photography of plants in my garden, and I felt drawn to revisit that technique in the fern-filled aspen woodlands of the mountains. This image was my first experiment there, and it offered a fun, creative take on a familiar aspen grove I have photographed many times before.
A different take on a familiar grove of aspens.
August found us traveling to the Florida Keys on a grief trip after Maui passed away. For the first time in twenty years, I put my fins and mask back on and slipped beneath the water, returning to a world I had not seen in so long. This time, I held an underwater housing in my hand, with three days to learn how to use it while balancing free diving, breath-holding, and composing images. It was incredibly challenging, but also deeply invigorating to experience photography again as a beginner.
Sun rays filter down onto a reef in the Florida Keys.
I continued my close, intimate work with anemones this year. After the release of my LensWork project, Anemone Choreography, last year, I kept returning to tidepools, exploring new ways to share the beauty of these simple, yet extraordinary creatures. During one visit, I found a green anemone marked with small, white, heart-shaped spots along its tentacles. Anemones have a symbiotic relationship with algae. The algae give anemones their color and provide nutrients in exchange for shelter and energy. With warming ocean temperatures, the algae can leave the anemones, creating these white spots. While I have seen many anemones with white markings before, discovering these heart-shaped forms felt especially rare.
An anemone with unique heart-shaped spots sits in a spot of light.
An anemone curls back up after a retreating wave.
The final month of the year was spent teaching our last workshop in Death Valley National Park, just after storms delivered rare flooding to one of the driest places in the United States. Lake Manly made a magical return. After several days walking the shoreline and scouting a location away from the crowds, we photographed the Geminid meteor shower reflected in the lake. At one point, David mentioned how incredible it would be to see a giant fireball streak across the sky. After many quiet hours of sitting, photographing, and taking in the night sky, a massive fireball appeared and lingered for more than four seconds. I also spent the following weeks photographing the ephemeral streams, watching them shift and transform as the landscape slowly changed.
A lone fireball reflects into Lake Manly during the Gemind meteor shower.
Ephemeral streams reflect the sky as they cross the valley floor.
We also had the rare opportunity to photograph the aurora borealis from Death Valley, an experience I will not soon forget. I had scouted a section of mud tiles the year before and returned to them as a substorm peaked. For a few brief minutes, red pillars danced across the sky above the cracked mud. I feel incredibly fortunate for all of my aurora experiences, and this one was especially meaningful. The substorm was short-lived, appearing and disappearing almost as quickly as it arrived. Seeing the aurora that far south is an extraordinary rarity, and something I never imagined I would experience in my lifetime.
A rare aurora borealis substorm dances above the mud tiles in Death Valley National Park.
We spent a lot of time exploring the backcountry and found more mud than we ever dreamed possible. One magical evening, we photographed freshly laid mud by moonlight. It felt less like standing in the desert and more like watching the moon rise over an ocean! In all my years of photographing mud, this was one of the most magical moments. Mud photography by the light of a full moon. Who knew that could be a thing?
A rising full moon reflects across a patch of wet mud.
I also returned to working with multiple exposures, this time focusing on sand as part of my ongoing sand abstraction series. I look forward to sharing more of these images soon. This photograph was created as a two-image, in-camera multiple exposure. The process was driven by observation, curiosity, and asking questions like “what if” and “what happens if I…” That spirit of exploration made the experience incredibly fun and creatively energizing.
Unique mud patterns take on an ombré color scheme during evening twilight.
A two-image multiple exposure reveals a new look at familiar sand patterns.
Thank you for following along with me through my favorite images and experiences from 2025, and I look forward to sharing more in 2026. May the landscapes you encounter in the coming year inspire you through your own lens. Wishing you a year filled with new experiences, joy, and peace!