I recently visited my old stomping grounds in Holmes County, Ohio, home to the world’s largest Amish population. Remnants of snow still covered part of the ground, contrasting with the barren, fallow fields.
I enjoyed finding a few Amish farms, like the one pictured, remaining amid the rapidly expanding tourist businesses scattered throughout the once pristine countryside.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Our across-the-street neighbors have lovely flower gardens for all who pass by to enjoy. Since their house faces south, the winter sun, when it shines, warms the front yard.
This, in turn, encourages flowers to bloom when the days warm into the 50s and 60s, like they have for the last few days. I went over to photograph the Snow Drops and discovered that a lone Hyacinth had joined dainty white flowers in showing off its lavender beauty.
These harbingers of spring were most welcome.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Barns have always intrigued me. The various sizes, shapes, colors, conditions, purposes, and settings combine to make photogenic captures. Wintertime is no exception.
Here are a few I recently found.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
My front yard birdfeeders are all on or under the red maple tree just outside my office window. That allows me to keep a keen eye on the comings and goings of the birds that frequent the feeders.
The birds really flock to the feeders before and during a snowstorm. The mix of birds includes the ground-feeding White-throated and White-crowned Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos. American Goldfinch, Purple Finch, and House Finch dominate the squirrel-proof hanging tube feeders. They also will feed on the ground, savaging for any seeds that drop from the feeders overhead.
If the army of European Starlings arrives, chaos ensues. The desired birds yield to the noisy and aggressive Starlings. That includes the dependable Northern Cardinals, which brighten the scene with their attractive colors. The female’s red-tinged olive feathers keep her camouflaged during nesting time, while her mate stands out in his all-red coat.
As brightly colored as the black-masked male Northern Cardinals are, they are fairly skittish and passive compared to other birds, like the Carolina Wrens and especially the Starlings.
The male Northern Cardinal in the photo waited on a branch above the feeding frenzy, awaiting an opportunity to fuel up undisturbed. That allowed me to capture the brilliant red in the falling snow.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
©Bruce Stambaugh 2025
My wife and I moved to Virginia’s lovely Shenandoah Valley seven and a half years ago. We wanted to be close to our three grandchildren, who were approaching their active teen years. We thought watching them play soccer, baseball, and volleyball and perform in concerts and recitals would be fun—and it has been.
But the weather has been irregular, to say the least. Now, our Virginia home is no farther south than Cincinnati, Ohio. So, we knew winters would be cold and snowy from time to time, but usually, the snow didn’t last long. The valley would get six inches of snow, and it would be gone in two days, thanks to the clear blue skies and warmer temperatures.
For the most part, that is what the winters have been like until this year. We might as well have stayed in Ohio, where we sometimes received lake effect snow from strong northerly winds blowing off Lake Erie even though we lived 75 miles south of Cleveland.
The winter here has produced multiple snowstorms that deposited snow ranging from one inch to seven inches. Some areas in the county had even more. We have also had two rounds of freezing rain that brought down large tree limbs and closed schools and businesses. And there’s still more winter weather to come.
Mind you, I am not complaining. I am just stating facts and perhaps a little frustration. Still, I greatly enjoy the beauty the blankets of snow create. I hope that joy is reflected in the photos.
Given this weather, though, we could have visited Upstate New York to play with our fourth grandchild, Teddy, a very curious two-and-a-half-year-old. I think we’ve had more snow than Teddy.
At least the birds have been faithful in visiting our birdfeeders and birdbaths.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Turquoise waters, large, rolling waves crashing into coves with hidden pristine beaches, majestic palms, and friendly, inclusive residents who love their history and land are reasons enough to visit Hawaii.
However, our 50th state’s flora and fauna also stand out, as I discovered on a recent trip there. The vegetation, flowers, and wildlife ignited my senses, and I snapped over 1,200 photos. It was that beautiful, and I only visited three islands: Oahu, Kona, and Maui.
You don’t need to be a botanist to appreciate the abundance of lush plants, trees, and flowers on the 132 Hawaiian islands. Hawaii’s wildlife thrives in these varied tropical habitats.
As an avid but amateur birder, I focused on birds. However, since I was on a group tour, my opportunities to do much bird watching were limited. I listened to and looked for birds as much as possible in my free time at the various stops on every excursion.
I was most impressed with how Hawaiians honor sacred lands by caring for them through public parks, wildlife preserves, and national parks. The lack of trash along roadsides, sidewalks, beaches, and in rainforests proved this point.
In the capital city of Honolulu, flowers were ubiquitous. They bloomed in neatly manicured flowerbeds, bushes, hedges, and trees, and native flowers filled vases inside nearly every building we entered.
However, the countryside was where the flora and fauna ruled. Thanks to frequent tropical rains, dense rainforests grew on the windward sides of these mountainous islands. Since the clouds had spent their moisture, only scrubby trees, bushes, and grasses grew on the leeward slopes. There was that much difference in the annual rainfall.
The transition between lush and barren was usually pronounced. However, in some rural locations, ranchers fenced off large, sloping pastures dotted with scrubby trees where cattle, cows, and horses congregated.
Ancient and recent lava flowed to the sea down the mountainsides, disrupting most plant growth. Still, grasses poked through, helping to break down the rock with assistance from winds and rain.
Lush foliage covered steep, sharp mountains while a half mile to the coast, shorebirds waded for any morsel they could snag. That’s the natural consequence of life on the tip of a submerged volcano that would tower over all land-based mountains, including Mount Everest. Animals and birds flourished all around Hawaii Volcanos National Park.
As the vegetation types changed, so did the animal life. In the adjacent ocean waters, manta rays cruised the shorelines for food, and giant Green Sea Turtles basked on sunny beaches to warm themselves.
At a historical coffee plantation, songbirds darted from tree to tree, singing and calling high above the shaded coffee bushes. Years ago, I experienced similar scenes multiple times in Honduran coffee farms.
The last full day on Maui proved the most thrilling for scenery and fauna. Driving the Road to Hana and back will do that. Steep mountainsides filled with 50 shades of green surrounded majestic waterfalls, and sharp-angled cliffs dove into inviting waters.
Hidden coves with fine black or white sand beaches held their secrets. Crashing waves instantly transformed into a brilliant white froth that quickly disappeared.
I spied a colony of terns that spend most of the year out to sea fishing. They claimed an old, rugged lava rock that protruded above the sea’s surface, providing a handy, protected nesting sight. Behind me, a small flock of finches waddled through the park’s manicured grasses.
I would be negligent not to mention the free-range hens and roosters roaming the islands. Like many other island animals and plants, they are not native but are now part of the culture.
In my few days in this island paradise, nature’s flora and fauna overwhelmed me with joy. Surrounded by such enchanting environments, who wouldn’t be?
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
It may be cold and snowy across much of the country, but there’s also beauty in the harsh elements.
This apple tree was the only horizontal plant in this wide-ranging, hillside pasture. The tree and its shadow created a lovely landscape photo.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Finding rare birders is always a memorable experience, no matter one’s level of avian expertise. Since I consider myself an average birder, I always appreciate the opportunity to bird with those who are more knowledgeable than me.
That was the case recently when someone discovered a Say’s Phoebe five miles west of my home near Harrisonburg, Virginia. Having a Say’s Phoebe in the Shenandoah Valley was a rare treat, but seeing it in person became my goal since it would be a life bird.
I first learned about the Say’s Phoebe via an email listserv that reports rare bird sightings. I bundled up and headed to the property where the bird was seen. Several birders were already there scouting the bird. Ironically, the phoebe, which should have been in the southwest U.S. or Mexico, was across the road from where I photographed a Snowy Owl a few weeks earlier.
I walked as quietly as possible on the crunching snow and heard words that diminished my enthusiasm. “There it goes,” one of the birders said. It was late afternoon, and the guess was the phoebe was headed for a warmer roast than the steel pole buildings with three open sides.
I got eyewitness reports of the bird and details of its favorite haunts around the produce auction buildings it frequented during the day. The recommendation was to try in the morning when the bird foraged for dead insects.
That is precisely what I did. Only two other birders were present when I arrived. They had not found it yet. Discouraged, one birder headed to her car but soon turned around, waving her arms furiously.
She had spotted the bird sitting on the handle of a hand pump, a favorite spot for the bird. Say’s Phoebes perch lower to the ground to feed than their cousins, Eastern Phoebes. But both species pump their tales and fly to intercept the insects, often returning to the same or near the same perch. Say’s Phoebes have a long, dark tail and a distinctive orange-to-pink buff belly.
The bird flew into one of the open-sided buildings and continued to snatch dead insects stuck in spiderwebs around the ceiling and security lights. The lovely bird posed enough for us to capture several decent photos.
Satisfied, the woman who spotted the bird departed for other birding hot spots. That left two of us to follow the bird around, which we did for an hour. Given the bird’s feeding behavior, we soon learned to stand in a central location and let the bird fly to us. That strategy paid dividends. My birding companion even recorded the phoebe calling.
The Say’s Phoebe searched high and low for food. Winter in Virginia isn’t insect season, and several inches of snow covered the ground, too. No one knew what brought the bird to the valley, but we were grateful for the opportunity to view it.
I had the photos I wanted in an hour, so I headed home to share the good news with other birders by posting it on several Facebook birding pages. I was happy to add another bird to my life list. This exhilarating encounter was another birding experience I won’t forget.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Look at this handsome guy! Isn’t he resplendent with his marvelous feather coloration?
This male Northern Flicker regularly visits the peanut butter suet feeder that hangs from the Red Maple tree in our front yard. I can easily see the feeder and the tree from my home office.
This bird has visited the feeder for several months. Unfortunately, the European Starlings have discovered the tasty suet, too. Outnumbered by the gang of noisy birds, the Northern Flicker sat patiently in the morning sunshine until the starlings thinned out. Then, he made his move for breakfast.
© Bruce Stambaugh 2025
Wildlife Photos From The Chesapeake Bay Region
Culture and Communities at the Heart Of India
Artist and nature journalist in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.
Photographer Of Life and moments
Less Noise. More Meaning
Art is the only way to run away without leaving home. -Twyla Tharp
Writing generated from the rural life
writer. teacher. podcast cohost.
El amor cruza fronteras / Love crosses borders
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