The daytime temperatures in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley have been above freezing for the last few days. Consequently, the melting of several inches of snow that fell three weeks ago has begun.
I ventured out in the late morning recently to do some birding. However, I ended up taking more landscape photos because the birds weren’t as active as I’d expected.
I found the topography southwest of Staunton especially captivating, with its rolling landscape, country estates along winding, narrow roads, and the snow-covered North Mountain range as a backdrop to the west. Beauty surrounded me in every direction.
In one location, a Red-tailed Hawk perched on a limb, posture focused downward in hopes of spotting an unsuspecting rabbit, squirrel, or field mouse. In another, a light-phase Red-tailed Hawk soared in the afternoon sunshine, sailing on thermals rising from the warming farm fields below.
White-throated Sparrows and Song Sparrows fed along the exposed roadside grasses and road grit, but scurried for fencerow brambles as my SUV rolled by at pedestrian speed. In the rural areas, traffic was scarce, allowing me to take my time and enjoy the scenery all around me. I stopped several times in the space of a quarter mile to inhale the fresh air, absorb the warm sunshine, and scout for any birds.
I marveled at the patterns in the diminishing snow. Polka dots of grasses surrounded by inches of snowy white speckled south-facing hillsides. Tractor tracks among corn stubble created abstract paintings. Farmsteads stood silent, as if in awe of the February thaw, painting their own Currier and Ives.
A Northern Mockingbird played hide and seek with me, playing hard to get. Darting in and out of roadside thickets, I managed a few photos of the tricky bird. American Robins launched from treelines to forage in the high grasses of pastures still dotted with snow.
Canada Geese gleaned for food in a wide-open pasture as the ice on a bordering creek gave way to the welcome warmth. I spooked a pair of Mallards enjoying pockets of open water when I stepped out of my vehicle. The geese ignored their quacking.
On the way home, I stopped at a city park along the North River where Long-tailed ducks had been reported. Instead, I found a few humans less interested in patterns in snow or waterfowl than me.
I walked across a footbridge to approach the riverside. At the other end, three seniors my age laughed and shrieked with one another, ignorant of the flock of Common Merganzers floating nearby. The birds quickly took flight.
On the way to my SUV, a trio of young boys threw sticks and pinecones at a small flock of Mallards foraging in the river’s shallows. I advised the youngsters that it’s wrong to disturb wildlife. They hung their heads until I passed by, and then continued their barrage. However, they fled when I turned around and stared at them.
Ironically, the best birds were the closest to home. The thaw substantially diminished the ice on Silver Lake, and the waterfowl basked in the afternoon sunshine. Redheads, Canvasbacks, Buffleheads, and Pied-billed Grebes swam and dove for food.
Best of all, six Tundra Swans stood on the thinning ice, preening in the sun’s warmth. It was a glorious six hours spent in communion with Nature and all her blessings.
This is an adult Tundra Swan. Tundra Swans can easily be confused with the larger Trumpeter Swans, especially since they often overlap in the winter migration locations.
Unless the two species appear together, it is hard to tell them apart. Adult birds are both white and have black bills. However, the bills of Trumpeter Swans are much larger, as are their bodies. Trumpeter Swans are the heaviest native North American bird.
There is one distinctive way to tell the difference between the two impressive birds. Tundra Swans sometimes have a small yellow spot at the base of the bill below the eye.
Note the small yellow spot just below the swan’s eye.
The problem is that not all Tundra Swans have this identifying mark. So, relying on expert birders to help make a defining identification is recommended. Using a reliable birding field guide should also help.
I hope you get to see both Tundra and Trumpeter Swans. If you do, I also hope they are together so you can tell them apart more easily.
The lingering snow revealed the path of ancient tracks of a farm truck as it climbed through last fall’s corn stubble. The scene reminded me of an abstract painting.
The trio of graceful Tundra Swans on Silver Lake. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We were about ready for dinner when a text from a birding group reported three Tundra Swans at Silver Lake. My wife turned off the stove burner, we dressed for the super cold weather, and out the door we went.
Located on the north edge of the small town of Dayton, Virginia, Silver Lake is a few minutes’ drive from our home. I approached the drive from the north, which afforded a full view of the lake.
A flock of dark colored ducks floated near the lake’s shallow north end. Fortunately, no vehicles approached from either direction. I slowed and soon spotted the large white swans in the middle of the lake.
Because it has been so cold for so long after the six inches of snow and sleet, there was little room to pull over for photos. However, I managed to pull on the ridge of plowed snow along the road so I wasn’t blocking the southbound lane.
The Tundra Swans were about 30 yards away. The two adults and one juvenile swam gracefully on the placid water. The young one kept feeding by tipping its head into the water and foraging on the underwater vegetation.
Their closeness let me capture a few decent photos with both my camera and my iPhone before the light faded further. Given the precarious position of my SUV, I didn’t want to linger long.
Satisfied with the photos, we headed home, turned on the stove’s burner, and enjoyed a steaming bowl of soup. It completed a satisfying evening.
The juvenile Tundra Swan dipped into the water to feed several times. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Sundogs, or parhelia, are among the many marvels of the sky. They are caused by the refraction of sunlight through millions of ice crystals high in the atmosphere.
The plate-like crystals are suspended in cold cirrus or cirrostratus clouds. The crystals align horizontally as they drift down and bend the sun’s light at 22-degree angles.
That is what creates the bright spots, often in rainbow colors on either side of the sun, and sometimes on both sides. On rare occasions, the crystals create a full arch over the sun. The spots can also be simply bright white.
Sundogs are most frequently observed in the winter, when the atmosphere is cold. They most often appear at sunrise or near sunset, as in this recently taken photo.
Parhelia is the Greek word for “beside the sun.” Sundogs are members of the halo family that occasionally form around the sun and moon.
Our landscaper saved the day. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
There was a time when I enjoyed shoveling snow from our driveway and sidewalk. That was when we lived in Ohio, and I was much, much younger.
We had plenty of notice from the National Weather Service and the media about the most recent major winter storm that chugged eastward from Texas into New England.
Snow is the hardest precipitation for the NWS to predict. This storm was exceptionally so. The storm surged farther north than anticipated, and it had a “warm nose” that changed our precipitation from snow to sleet.
Despite the cold surface temperatures, the Shenandoah Valley had sleet all day. Since it is finer than snow, the sleet added two inches to our four inches of overnight snow.
Knowing the storm was going to deliver a nasty punch no matter what kind of frozen precipitation fell, we knew we would need help with the driveway and sidewalk.
By the next morning, the storm had cleared. When I went out to spread birdseed on the ground shortly after sunrise, the cold overnight temperatures had frozen the top layer of snow, so I could walk on it for a few steps before it gave way.
The Virginia Department of Transportation contracts with local farmers to plow our suburban streets. They often do it at night, and that was the case this time. The street was clear of snow, but a two-foot-high pile of large snow chunks blocked the driveway. I was glad we had a snowplow coming.
Our landscaper arrived mid-morning and immediately went to work cleaning the drive with a small tractor and plow. Its size and design allowed it to make sharp turns and push the snow out of the way while his helper shoveled our walk.
Of course, the neighbors heard the tractor’s engine, and soon two of them approached the plow operator to ask about clearing their drives as well. It wasn’t long until yet a third neighbor added to the workload.
When the first neighbor approached. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
All of us were retirees, and we all knew it was much better to have a machine do what we used to do in our younger years. We were all more than glad to pay for this service rather than risk overdoing it or, even worse, hurting ourselves.
It’s nice to be in a position where we can afford to do that. As senior citizens, it was the right decision, regardless of the cost.
The aurora borealis as seen from my driveway on January 20. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I get excited when there’s a chance to see the northern lights or aurora borealis. I suspect I’m not alone. Why shouldn’t we be excited?
After all, the colorful lights are dancing in the sky over the polar north. That’s a long way from the Shenandoah Valley in western Virginia.
I follow social media posts closely for sun flares and alerts on possible northern light events. But being this far south, I keep my expectations in check.
History has shown, however, that seeing these beautiful phenomena is indeed possible in Virginia and points south. In fact, on October 10, 2024, at 10:30 p.m., I walked out the front door, and greens, reds, and pinks danced in the sky over my neighbors’ houses. Of course, the light display was much farther north than that.
The aurora borealis as seen from my front porch on October 10, 2024. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I snapped a couple of photos and went back to bed. The app on my cell phone had alerted me to the possibility of seeing the aurora borealis. And there it was.
Looking back on that experience, I wish I had chosen a better viewing location for more photos instead of going back to sleep. Still, I was happy with the pictures I got. They clearly showed the northern lights.
So, when the alert came out for Monday and Tuesday, January 19 and 20, this week, I was ready. However, being a man, and an aging one at that, I easily got distracted.
The NCAA National Championship football game between Indiana University and Miami University was on TV at 7:30. Because the IU coach had led James Madison University’s football team to exciting winning seasons, my wife and I were glued to the TV. JMU is located in Harrisonburg, Virginia.
However, my attention shifted when I saw a photo of the aurora borealis posted on Facebook by a friend who lives a few miles away. I walked outside, took a few pictures, and could see a little red in the sky.
So, I diverted my attention from football to photography and went in search of a decent view of the northern sky. It was harder than I thought. Rockingham County, where I live, may be in the Shenandoah Valley, but it certainly is not flat.
The landscape, predominantly agricultural west of the city, is rolling, dotted with high hills, and full of powerlines running every which way. With no moonlight, the night was dark, so even though I was familiar with the roadways, I had difficulty finding a place with a good view, free of light from security lights or buildings.
It didn’t take me long, however, to realize that the colors had faded since my friend took her photo two hours earlier. I headed home with fairly dull images of the night sky.
I was determined to make the aurora my priority after dark on Tuesday night. I again stepped into the darkness of our neighborhood and immediately saw reds and pinks in the sky, especially to the northwest. It is one advantage of having no street lights in our housing development. Of course, the colors I saw can’t compare to the amazing shots of curtains of colors dancing in the sky in the northernmost latitudes.
With temperatures below normal in our area, I bundled up and headed out, this time more certain about where I needed to go. But again, once I got out into the open countryside, the aurora colors seemed to dim.
The photo with the house was my first hint of the northern lights. The rest are from my excursion in the county. Please click on the images to enlarge them.
They were brighter than the previous night, but not like I had seen in October 2024 or when I saw my first northern light in Ohio’s Amish country decades ago.
In that case, I was walking out to retrieve the evening paper from its roadside box when I first heard and then saw the northern lights. I stopped in my tracks when I heard a loud crackling sound, like a zap of electrical current.
I looked toward the sound, and in the southern sky, bright green zigzagging flashes danced low in the night sky. They lasted only seconds, but I realized what they were even though they appeared on the wrong horizon.
Soon, bulletins appeared on TV screens across northern Ohio about strange objects appearing in the sky. Witnesses who saw what I saw called the police and TV and radio stations to report the weird noises and lights.
There were all kinds of speculations, aliens included. Even the local weather service put out a special statement. When I saw that, I called the weather office at the Akron-Canton Airport to share what I observed.
I felt obligated to set the record straight, and since I was a trained severe weather spotter for the National Weather Service, they were familiar with where I lived.
Because of that experience, I longed to see the aurora borealis in its proper setting, the northern sky. Consequently, I was very pleased to be able to view them in Virginia, not once, but twice.
You can be assured I’ll remain on the lookout whenever the next aurora alert is issued, regardless of what time of night it is or what’s on TV.
I had company while taking photos of the spectacular sunset at Silver Lake in Dayton, Virginia. A lone female Bufflehead repeatedly dove in the calm, shallow water for food.
The diving duck did what it was supposed to do to survive. It dove and surfaced so frequently that small ripples created a corduroy effect across the southern section of the lake. The warm light of the setting sun transformed Silver Lake into a golden pond.
A female Bufflehead floated on Silver Lake. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
After an early morning lab test at the local hospital, I drove a couple of miles to a favorite lake that often affords decent birding. I found the bird I hoped would be there, a lone Sandhill Crane, plus I got a bonus.
The small lake lay east and west, with an opening to the east where the spillway falls into a natural ravine. The Blue Ridge Mountains in Shenandoah National Park are visible in the far distance.
As I began my search for the crane, the sun broke through a layer of low clouds. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t last long, but the mauve and orange caught my eye. It was a stunning but subtle scene.
Sunrise at Lake Shenandoah, Harrisonburg, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Once I found the bird and pointed it out to a trio of young birders, I headed home. I kept my eye on the sky in hopes of an even prettier sunset.
With high broken clouds, I decided to visit Silver Lake in the quaint town of Dayton, just a few miles from my home. I arrived with the sun still hanging low in the southwest.
At first, I wasn’t impressed. I was fearful that the clouds that often congregate over the Allegheny Mountains to the west in the evenings might spoil any chance of a nice sunset. However, I have learned to be patient after years of chasing sunrises and sunsets.
That’s been even more true here in the Shenandoah Valley. With mountain ranges to the east and west of the county, the sun takes its time to paint the sky. That’s exactly what happened.
Things were still dull in the west, but I looked behind me, and the clouds in the eastern sky blushed in warm tones. I drove to the other side of the lake to capture the reflections.
The old mill
When I arrived
Colors in the east
The south bank
The reds begin
Across the lake
The farm
The long view
Silhouettes
The reds peak
I no sooner arrived there when the western horizon burst with fiery hues. I returned to my original spot and snapped away.
I was most grateful for nature’s wondrous morning and evening displays that day. It pays to keep an eye on the sky.
We live in a crazy world that seems to grow crazier by the day. But we must not let the chaos get to us. We need to carry on as best we can. For me, photography is one outlet that shuts out the din of the world’s madness against itself.
I enjoy photographing the wonder all around me, the serendipitous joy that springs upon me. By capturing those affectionate moments, I can share them with others, including you.
Staying in the present moment allows me to see things that others might just pass by. Consequently, I took thousands of photos this year. My photos feature people, insects, birds, trees, mountains, flowers, sunsets, sunrises, boats, planes, and a sundry of other subjects.
I have chosen to select one image for each month to review 2025. I hope each photo speaks to you the way they all did to me. Here then is 2025 in photos. Enjoy.
January
It’s only appropriate to begin this photo series with a snowy scene in January. This lone tree stood beneath the hovering clouds and was perfectly centered by the farm equipment tracks in the snow. The cerulean sky provided an excellent backdrop, like blue ice in a glacier.
The tree, January 15, Rockingham County, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
February
Is there anything more stunning than a bright red male Northern Cardinal in the midst of winter? Against evergreens laden with a skiff of snow, the bird shows even more colorfully. It’s just one of the reasons I love watching, feeding, and photographing birds.
That’s especially true when they grace your backyard with such natural beauty.
Male Northern Cardinal, Harrisonburg, Virginia. February 8. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
March
I enjoy walking in our suburban neighborhood of nearly 500 homes any time of year. Besides the required exercise, I encounter many photographic moments. This neighbor had the foresight to plant daffodil bulbs around an old hand cultivator, once used to till garden soil, which helped control the weeds.
Emerging from winter, the buttery yellow of the blooms added a splash of color that complemented the old, rusting implement.
Daffodils as accents, March 21, Harrisonburg, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
April
Though not the state flower, Virginia Bluebells should be. They are native to the state and are its namesake. Besides that, the flowers are simply beautiful. Their pink buds turn to azure blue blossoms, and they are a welcome sight wherever they bloom in spring.
Virginia Blue Bells, April 8, Edith J. Carrier Arboretum, Harrisonburg. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
May
I captured this photo at a historic village in Mumford, New York. Since it was Mother’s Day, the Genese Country Village and Museum had people in period clothing doing demonstrations and providing information about their particular station.
While walking by a barn, I caught this man and his dog sitting in the morning sunshine. The darkness of the barn’s interior made them stand out all the more.
A man and his dog, Mumford, New York, May 11. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
June
I’m a sucker for sunsets. With its fluffy-cloud days, June is often a good time to watch for glowing evening skies. June 20th was one such day. It just happened to be the summer solstice, when the sun would be at its northwestern-most point in the evening sky.
I headed to my favorite photo spot, the western slope of a local landmark, Mole Hill. Mole Hill is a prominent mound in Shenandoah Valley’s Rockingham County. You can see miles south, west, and northwest from the extinct volcanic core.
On the way there, I saw a pony cart tied to the trunk of a walnut tree at the peak of Mole Hill Road. I didn’t think much of it until I heard the distinct sound of hoves hitting the pavement. I turned and saw an Old Order Mennonite young woman and two girls in an open cart behind a blond-maned pony heading my way.
Knowing they would not want their photo taken, I waited until the cart was well past my location before I snapped the shutter. The setting sun illuminated the pony’s mane and the seeded heads of the tall grass north of the roadway.
With the evening quickly cooling, a light fog began lifting out of the river valley below the Allegheny Mountains that mark the boundary between Virginia and West Virginia.
The combination of the golden sky, the glowing clouds, the darkened mountains, the mist, the farmsteads, and the rolling valley floor created a once-in-a-lifetime scene. It felt like a holy moment, and I was thrilled to capture it for others to see.
Heading into the sunset, June 20, Dayton, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
July
In the United States, July literally always starts out with a bang. July 4th is Independence Day, and it just so happened that the cruise ship my wife and I were on docked in Portland, Maine, on that hallowed day.
Fortunately, the ship’s starboard side, where our cabin was, faced the city’s harbor. We had a front-row seat to all the explosive colors reflected in the water. It was a fun way to close out our trip.
July 4th, Portland, Maine. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
August
Like many other locales in the nation, August was a hot, humid, and all too dry month. Still, people ventured out, keeping their routines and schedules despite the withering temperatures.
That was true for all kinds of outdoor sports. This photo shows the proud moment of the young man I mentor, far outpacing all the other high school runners in a cross-country meet. I wasn’t the only one who was pleased. Daniel’s classmates created a human gauntlet to welcome him as he approached the finish line.
Winning the race, August 29, Harrisonburg, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
September
This September in Virginia’s lovely Shenandoah Valley was fabulous. After a hot, humid summer, September ushered in cooler temperatures and revealed the magnificent colors of her topography and vegetation, both natural and cultivated.
This was the view I saw as I exited my vehicle at a country store near the quaint town of Dayton. How could I not take this shot?
From the area’s fertile soil, curving rows of field corn and rolling contours led the eye to the Allegheny Mountains to the northwest and the cruising cumulus clouds above. Come harvest, it was a bumper crop of corn.
Though I didn’t see it at the time, an American Crow is near dead center in the pastoral photo.
Early September in the valley, September 4, Dayton, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
October
Our three-year-old grandson loves Halloween. He also loves bubbles, so his folks bought him a bubble machine. Teddy wanted to show off how the bubble maker worked when we visited him and his parents the week of Halloween.
When Teddy ran behind the bubbles, the sharply slanting sun highlighted the multi-colored, windblown bubbles. The various-sized bubbles and their proximity to my camera created a moment I can’t forget. It was one of my favorites of the year.
Teddy and his bubbles, Rochester, New York, October 26. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
November
When a Red-headed Woodpecker poses for you, you have to take the shot. Of course, I am always ready with the camera when the moment arrives.
Red-headed Woodpecker, November 7, Linville, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
December
My wife and I spent Christmas week in Sarasota, Florida, with our daughter and her family. We wanted to devote holiday family time together somewhere warm. I’m happy to say the weather was perfect. With two college-aged grandsons and a teenage granddaughter, we hit the beach a few times.
After basking in the warm sunshine during the day, we returned a couple of times for the sunset. When the clouds didn’t cooperate, we settled for golden sundowns.
In this photo, a Brown Pelican appears to be leading the way home for this family walking along North Lido Beach. Sometimes the photo paints the picture for you. Plus, it’s only appropriate that we let the sun set on 2025.
Leading the way, December 23, Sarasota, Florida. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I hope you and yours have a joyous and safe New Year.
Roadkill Crossing 
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