The relaxing view from our lanai. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
After a hardy breakfast of veggie omelets and fresh fruit, we left for the Maui Ocean Center. We drove through the burned-out section of Lahaina, and I didn’t realize it at first with all the rebuilding that had been done.
However, the many empty lots and scorched concrete block walls bore witness to the devastation. A respectful hush came over the bus. Everyone sensed the apparent dichotomy. As tourists, we embraced the beauty of the islands, its rhythmic language, the friendliness of its handsome people, and pride in their cultures. Yet, they had no homes, and still, they welcomed us. They needed the tourism jobs.
Sections of Lahaina still waiting to be rebuilt. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
Though we left the hotel early, we arrived at the ocean center late. An accident caused a long traffic jam on the two-lane highway to the bay where the aquarium is located. The bus driver said accidents along this stretch of road are frequent.
A guided tour of the Maui Ocean Center gave us a good understanding of the sealife around Hawaii. We watched various fish, sharks, and stingrays swim past the aquarium’s large underwater windows. Humpback Whales breed and give birth in the waters off Maui, but we were a little early to see any whales.
Back at the hotel, we strolled down Black Rock Beach to a seaside restaurant. The locals were getting a headstart on celebrating the holidays. A large Christmas tree stood fully decorated at the end of a walkway to the beach.
The setting, the views, the flowers—everything was gorgeous. Parasails caught the trade winds offshore and glided high above the intoxicating indigo ocean.
After a bit of shopping, we continued to take it all in. We rested on the balcony of our third-floor room, which gave us great views of the catamarans sailing by, teenage boys taking turns jumping off the black lava rocks, and the soothing tropical breeze. We had to pinch ourselves to ensure we weren’t dreaming.
As evening approached, I wanted to get some sunset shots from the beach. I went down early, surprised to see how few people were out and about. Clouds began filling the sky, and I feared the sunset would be a bust. I need not have worried.
Over Pineapple Island, opposite the channel, warm, amber crepuscular rays began to filter through the clouds. They appeared like spotlights against the higher clouds, creating a surreal scene. I wondered what the natives long ago would have thought had they experienced this. Was this a sign from the gods? If so, what did it mean?
I snapped away at my good fortune. Could this vacation get any better? Yes, it did.
Water Lilies bloomed outside the hotel restaurant. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
This year is about to end. For my recap, I chose one photo per month to represent the daily subjects I encountered.
January
Sunset at Silver Lake. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Silver Lake is slightly more than three miles southwest of our home. I visit it often to photograph birds and sunsets. The sunset actually produced more color in the northwestern sky. So, naturally, that’s where I aimed to capture this photo.
February
Iridescence cloud. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Imagine my surprise when I stepped outside to refill my birdfeeders. This rare iridescence cloud caught my attention. Formed high in the much colder atmosphere, the pastel colors are created by the sun’s rays highlighting ice crystals in the cloud. This photo is even more unusual since the sun is also visible.
March
Cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin, Washington, D.C. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I had always wanted to see the cherry blossoms in bloom in Washington, D.C. I never considered going when we lived in Ohio. But once we moved to Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, I had it on my “to-do list.” When I learned the blooms were peaking earlier than expected, I visited our nation’s capital on a sunny but blustery Wednesday in late March. I was awestruck at their beauty. In this photo, the morning sun highlighted the pale pink petals on the trees planted around the Tidal Basin. The Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial is on the right-hand side of the photo.
April
Edith J. Carrier Arboretum, James Madison University. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I love to visit the Edith J. Carrier Arboretum on the campus of James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia. It’s a lovely place to seek serenity by connecting with nature’s variety of beauty in any season. Springtime is my favorite. Songbirds, including migrants, are singing and marking their territories. The arboretum’s staff and volunteers ready this remarkable gem for the onslaught of visitors, including many school children and their teachers. I had so many photos to choose from that I called upon my wife to help me decide which picture to share with you. We chose this one because it best represents all that is the arboretum. The blooming daffodils and other plants, plus the giant boulders that secure the pond bank, serve as an attractive, textured foreground for the native redbuds, showy ornamentals, and the dogwood tree, which the pond reflects. The hillside mixed woodlot is an appropriate backdrop for the photo’s main subjects.
May
Blue Cornflowers and one orange Poppy. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Birding, hiking, and photography are three hobbies I can combine into one outing. I enjoy capturing the unusual, like this field of blue Cornflowers infiltrated by one orange Poppy.
June
Trout fisherman at Rapidan Camp, Shenandoah National Park. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Shenandoah National Park is my favorite place to hike. This photo was taken beside Rapiden Camp, President Herbert Hoover’s summer retreat. Hoover loved fishing at the camp to escape from the confines of noisy city life and the country’s politics. This young man caught rainbow trout, just as Hoover had. My friends and I accessed the camp by hiking more than a mile down the Millprong Trail from Skyline Drive. The other way is to book a ranger-guided tour when they are offered and ride the fire road down to the camp.
July
A Great Spangled Fritillary on Hayscented Fern. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I never tire of watching the many varieties of butterflies that frequent Shenandoah National Park in the summer. Unless we have a severe drought, wildflowers, dense forests, and the sparkling water of rapidly running streams provide the right habitat for them. I was photographing Turkscap Lilies when this beautiful butterfly flitted past me and landed on this Hayscented Fern plant to bask in the bright morning sunshine. Moments like this keep me returning to the park again and again.
August
Storm clouds brewing. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
From little on up, clouds have fascinated me. However, I am long over imagining shapes in the clouds. I enjoy their beauty, their constant reconfiguration, and, in the case of severe storms, their power. I was astonished at how quickly these cumulus clouds grew into cumulonimbus clouds, and by the time they reached the Blue Ridge Mountains in the background, a severe thunderstorm warning had been issued. We were glad for the rain since the entire Shenandoah Valley had been in a summer drought.
September
Beauty after the storm. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
September started off right with a much-needed rainstorm followed by a stunning sunset. Other than that, I’ll let the photo’ beauty draw you in.
October
Post-peak splendor. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
October’s photo was the toughest one to choose. Even with an extended drought, the colors didn’t disappoint this year. Still, we had two celestial stunners in October that could have been selected. I was fortunate to photograph the Aurora Borealis and Comet C-2023 A3, also known as Tsuchinshan-ATLS. Plus, I could have chosen golden maples at the height of their colors. But this photo stood out. The bare white branches of the gray birch trees adjacent to the stands of red oaks guarded by pines and cedars show the glory of Shenandoah National Park even after most of the leaves and tourists have left. Also, note that mountainside forests in the distance at lower altitudes are still holding fast to their lovely leaves. This year, October had it all.
November
Ho’okipa Beach, Maui, Hawaii. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
November’s shot was nearly as hard to pick as October’s. I was torn between being a birder or a tourist. Obviously, I chose the latter. Ho’okipa Beach is one of Maui’s most famous and popular attractions, not just because of its beautiful blue waters. Surfers clamor for the rolling, long-lasting waves, especially when the tide is high. In the afternoon, people of all ages watch giant Green Sea Turtles come ashore to soak in the afternoon sun that warms the beach. My birding option was a photo of a Snowy Owl, which you will see in a later post.
December
A glorious December sunset. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
It is only appropriate to close out 2024 with a sunset, a beauty at that. With the low cloud deck, I was ready for this one, which didn’t disappoint.
I greatly appreciate you following this blog all these years. I wish you all the very best in 2025. Happy New Year everyone!
Looking east during the Golden Hour in Berlin, Ohio. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
This scene caught my attention as my wife and I arrived in Berlin, Ohio, at her sister’s place. The white of the Amish homes and barns glowed in the Golden Hour light.
Sometimes, reality is stranger than fantasy. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
When I happened upon this tender scene, I did a double-take.
My wife and I had joined an entourage from church for a Sunday afternoon of baptisms for three teens in the chilly mountain stream. After the dunkings and the celebratory congratulations shared, I wandered away from the rest of the revelers to see what I could find.
Scores of Pipevine Butterflies and Tiger Swallowtail Butterflies flitted through the woods. They danced carefree from rays of broken sunlight to dense shade, oblivious to the human invaders.
I certainly didn’t expect to find a cat casually nursing three young ones in the forest. And I especially didn’t expect to find a stuffed cat and her young stuffed kittens. But that is exactly what I discovered.
Some children not connected with our group were splashing in the nearby stream. Perhaps one of them thought this wild cherry tree along the banks of the Dry River at the base of Shenandoah Mountain was a lovely and safe haven while romping in the water.
I’ll never know for sure, but this composition of fantasy playthings among nature’s real and evolving habitat was too good not to share.
Teens learning about Big Meadows in Shenandoah National Park. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
This is the third installment of a series celebrating National Park Week.
I often hike alone. But occasionally, I enjoy sharing my love of nature with others.
The church I attend has a mentor/mentee program for youth. A friend and I each serve as mentors for two teenage boys. Knowing we all enjoy the outdoors, we took them for a day trip to Shenandoah National Park last summer. We had a riot.
These energetic young men enjoyed every aspect of the trip. They loved the hikes and the enthralling views. They also identified birds, flowers, and rocks and occasionally pestered one another. A pair of fawns grazing at the edge of Big Meadows startled us as we walked along the union of the meadow and the forest.
We rested on a rock outcropping overlooking the always lovely Shenandoah Valley. The boys loved scrambling over the ancient rock formation and resting in the warm sunshine, basking in all nature’s glory. Given our generational spans between teens and septuagenarians, I marveled at our common contentment.
But that, in part, is what national parks are for. People of all ages, races, religions, backgrounds, and interests feel at home in our nation’s beautiful national parks.
Our excursion was a perfect example of how to celebrate National Park Week.
The opportunity I had hoped for. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
This is the second in a series celebrating National Park Week.
On the afternoon of May 23, 2018, I decided to finish my day in Shenandoah National Park by hiking the Rock Spring Cabin trail. According to the park map, the trail wasn’t long, and I was curious to see the cabin.
So, off I went, binoculars around my neck and camera across my shoulder. I soon reached the point where the trail joined the Appalachian Trail (AT), and I hiked on. I could hear birds chirping and singing all around me, but the lushness of the forest prevented me from seeing or photographing most of the birds.
As the AT wound west and north around a hillside, the Rock Creek Cabin trail veered left and down a fairly steep slope. I passed the hiker’s shelter, saw the spring gurgling from beneath giant boulders, and hiked back up the incline to the cabin owned by a local hiking club.
My fascination satisfied, I returned to the skinny dirt incline toward the AT. Just before I arrived at the iconic trail, a pair of Common Ravens croaked and chattered noisily overhead. Their deep-throated gurgling echoed through the dense landscape as they bounced from tree branch to tree branch in my direction.
Thinking I was the intruder who initiated the ravens’ commotion, I started down the trail at a slow pace. I didn’t want to disturb the birds any more than I already had.
The strange thing was, though, that they didn’t really seem to pay me any heed. They swooped lower to another tree ahead of me but continued their conversation.
So, I swallowed my ego and began to pay better attention to what was bothering the birds. A short distance down the AT, I discovered their concern. A young but large black bear was foraging on the lush, green forest floor.
I readied my camera and saw my chance. The bear was approaching a small cluster of trees that separated us. So, I quickened my pace to try to photograph this beautiful creature as it emerged from behind the trees.
I stood quietly on the trail for the bear to appear. I didn’t have to wait long. I aimed and clicked the camera just as the bear spotted me. That one simple noise sent the bear racing headlong down the hill and quickly out of sight.
I got one shot and only one shot of the bear. I was as happy as the bear was scared. I had my first photo of a bear in the wild.
That day, I learned an important lesson: Pay attention and use your senses to see all that a national park offers.
Spring’s colors brighten our days. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Just in time for Earth Day, spring’s vibrant colors are at their peak here in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. Ornamental shrubs, trees, and domestic and wildflowers are putting on a show for our pleasure and their propagation.
This annual phenomenon has a caveat. Conditions change quickly, and weather conditions play a significant role in these rapid transformations. A windstorm or hard frost can instantly paint the landscape much differently.
The tender and pastel leaf buds unfold quickly, exposing their infant beauty. The fresh foliage of red maples shows the reason for the tree’s name. So, too, do their fleshy seeds, which critters like squirrels devour.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
Soon, however, the leaves fully unfurl, sometimes overnight, and the russets transform into luscious greens. Through transpiration and photosynthesis, we all can breathe easier. One large tree can produce up to a day’s oxygen supply for four people.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
Redbuds can be fickle. Some years, the buds last weeks. This year, the emerging leaves of our backyard Rising Sun Redbud tree have already overtaken the beautiful buds. The young tree went from lavender to bright pink to lime green and pale pink in a few days. Pink polka dots already cover the ground below.
April 10.
April 13.
April 15.
April 16.
April 21.
Given this rapid transformation from bud to bloom, we need to be vigilant in the quest to enjoy nature’s springtime. Doing so has multiple benefits. Exploring the lovely blooms of trees, shrubs, and flowers renews our appreciation for life itself. Enjoying nature’s beauty and birdsong serenades invigorates our spirits. Walking or hiking through it all provides needed exercise.
Nature offers another bonus if we are observant. She has lessons for all of us to learn, no matter our age. Do you know redbud blossoms, viewed at the correct angle, resemble hummingbirds feeding?
Can you find the hummingbirds in the redbud blossoms?
Exploring local parks and roadsides offers vivid samples of spring’s changing color schemes. It’s a wonderful way to celebrate Earth Day.
I love photography. It keeps me alert for the extraordinary while doing the ordinary. In this case, I was with my wife, her cousin, and her husband, all septuagenarians.
We get together every so often about halfway between our home in Virginia’s lovely Shenandoah Valley and their abode in central North Carolina. Lynchburg is a handy place to meet up, a two-hour drive for each of us.
We like many of the same activities, like playing cards, dominoes, antiques, and birding. We also enjoy casual strolls along city streets and well-marked biking and hiking paths. Lynchburg offers plenty of both.
Since we are not out to set any speed records on our walks, I can wander ahead and find the unusual among the usual rural or urban landscapes. Occasionally, I charge ahead too fast, and the others call me back to see what they have found. Together, we discover much to appreciate, ponder, and enjoy.
Take our most recent excursion, for example. Lynchburg is a city of hills and valleys, with a rich history, old buildings, waterways, sidewalks, cobblestone alleys, and lazy trails often following the winding creeks and the James River. One trail even had an old railroad tunnel, now lighted for bikers and hikers. The city is a paradise for photographers.
We came upon curious subjects to photograph every path we took. Along a creekside trail, we found this textured object. Any guesses? A tire? An alligator’s back? No to both. There’s a hint in the photo.
This is the closeup of an old fallen tree. The trunk was rotting away while its life-protective bark remained.
Not all photographic opportunities were so secretive. Still, using your imagination is critical. This old snag has stood the test of time, and the elements of four seasons have weathered into a once-living art object. Does anyone else conjure an owl flapping its right wing?
Speaking of living, this diminutive plant waved its once-green leaves red for the holiday season that is upon us. It is a volunteer burning bush, likely deposited by a seed-eating bird. There was no missing the bright color among all the trail-side leaf litter.
A short distance away, a competitor vied for attention. This sugar maple sapling shown like the sun on this dismal day. It made us all chuckle.
Not everything was so obvious, however. This photo has a complex combination of both natural and human-made actions.
Any idea what this abstract consists of? Look close. What’s on the left side? You are halfway home if you said a rock outcropping leached with calcium-laden groundwater. The right section is an old drainpipe. Some wannabe artists eliminated the plain rusty look by adding some pretty red and blue with a meaning. Those colors covered up some previous graffiti in faded white.
That pipe was a hint for us. The city lay just around the corner. We soon found this intriguing old set of double doors in a two-story brick building, likely once a warehouse during the railroad’s heyday. It faced the James River. The nearby trail was once a rail line.
A few steps away was a nearly block-long mosaic timeline of the history of Lynchburg. The blight of slavery was front and center. It’s an incredible piece of artwork often blocked by parked cars. This photo shows the intricate detail needed to tell the town’s story. I couldn’t imagine the time and effort it took to create this masterpiece.
We headed to the Amtrak train station away from Old Town. The building was magnificently reconstructed and expanded to hold city offices that had nothing to do with trains. We had a look around and came across some interesting finds.
An old luggage hand cart parked against the sturdy brick building caught my eye. No longer used, it can’t help but take train passengers and visitors back in time.
Across the street, an abandoned building seemed frozen in time. Dozens of solar bobbleheads danced behind a window in the late autumn sun. It was a curious collection that seemed abandoned, left to survive without human help.
This wasn’t our first rendezvous in Lynchburg with our friends. Given all there is to do, see, and photograph, it won’t be our last.
Brilliant Sugar Maples in the Park View neighborhood of Harrisonburg, Virginia.
Following my day in Shenandoah National Park, my wife and I headed south to Augusta County. We had more than colorful leaves on our agenda.
The “Queen of Steam,” Norfolk & Western Railroad’s Old 611 steam engine was running excursions twice a day from Goshen, Virginia, to Staunton, Virginia. Friends had pointed out a perfect place to observe the 611 heading east to Staunton.
So, Neva and I were up early to get a good spot at the bridge over the Buckingham Branch tracks at Swoope, Virginia. I wasn’t familiar with the area, so I wanted to scout different locations, too.
It was another beautiful day in the Shenandoah Valley. Cool temperatures in the morning, but a promised warming into the 60s by afternoon. The drive down to Swoope was nothing less than gorgeous.
Our spot on the bridge where we would have seen the 611 engine pulling the excursion train.
We arrived in Swoope at 8:30, and the train wasn’t scheduled to leave Goshen until 9:30. We didn’t know how long it would take the special train to arrive at our location. Besides a few walkers and joggers, we were the only people around.
Confident that our spots on the bridge wouldn’t be taken, we drove around the lovely valley dotted with rolling hills, pristine cattle farms, and gorgeous trees. The mixed hardwoods on Little North Mountain and the North Mountain beyond it were at peak color.
I took several shots of trees and farms and returned to the bridge. Soon, other rail fans arrived, and the chatter began. We listened for the train whistle to echo through the valleys. All was still.
Finally, a guy arrived who had information about the 611. It was listed as “static” at Goshen, meaning the engine wasn’t moving. A mechanical problem prevented 611 from running that day. The excursion would be pulled by diesel engines.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
My wife and I decided to return home. The morning had already brought much beauty into our lives. We had enjoyed the colorful trees, the well-maintained farms, and the congeniality of strangers.
The next few days, I continued my quest to photograph the beauty around Harrisonburg before the weather changed and brought the leaves down. I am happy to share them with you.
Our backyard when we arrived home from Augusta Co.
The view from Grandview Point. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.
Located east of Beckley, West Virginia, New River Gorge National Park and Preserve is a gem of a place. My wife and I recently visited there for two days. Our goal was to see the New River Gorge Bridge. We experienced much more than that. Also, I finally learned an important life lesson.
Because we usually avoid driving on I-81, we took Virginia 42 southwest through the Allegheny Highlands’ beautiful hills, valleys, small towns, and mountain gaps. We stopped at Augusta Springs Wetlands to bird along the boardwalk. We saw a number of lovely wildflowers and 21 species of birds. The next stop was the Humpback Covered Bridge west of Covington, Virginia.
Humpback Bridge.
Interior of the Humpback Bridge.
Humpback Bridge
But it was the national park we wanted to see most. The park has four visitor centers because of its mountainous terrain and steep gorge. Sandstone Visitor Center was our first stop just off I-64. The helpful ranger gave us excellent advice on the roads to travel and what to expect.
Our first stop was the observation area of Sandstone Falls. They were as beautiful as advertised, but the falls weren’t running at full force with so little rain this summer. We drove along the railroad tracks to the quaint town of Hinton, where we crossed to the west side of the New River. We drove north a few miles to reach the boardwalk that took us near the river’s main flow.
Eastern section of Sandstone Falls.
Rapids and Sandstone Falls.
Eastern side of Sandstone Falls.
Spicebush Swallowtail on Cardinal Flower.
The western section of Sandstone Falls.
Western section of Sandstone Falls.
The fastest flow.
I wanted to get a closer shot, so I headed across an island of ancient debris of huge boulders smoothed by years of flowing water. Scattered among the rocks were large trunks of trees, their bark long scoured away. It finally hit me that I shouldn’t have attempted this trek. I eased my way over rocks and rivulets to the shore of the river’s main course. I got the shots I wanted and returned to the boardwalk via an easier route.
Our next stop was Grandview, and what a view it was. We looked down 1,000 feet to see one of the horseshoe bends of the New River. The sun bathed the hillside forests and illuminated the riverside train tracks.
On the second day, we headed to the nearly abandoned town of Thurmond, a boomtown in the coal mining heydays. Today, only five folks live there. They all serve on the town council. One is the mayor, one is the secretary and the other three serve as council members. It was fascinating to walk the town of the once thriving businesses. Fortunately, the daily Amtrak train stopped to pick up a lone passenger while we were there. As the train pulled away, I realized a freight train had stopped on the mainline, allowing the Amtrak train to pass. It was a double treat for this train enthusiast.
On the way out of Thurmond, the road snaked along Dunlop Creek and a train track. Because of the steep descent of the topography, the creek had many rapids and small waterfalls. The sun broke through the thick tree canopy to highlight one of the falls.
Finally, we took in the magnificence of the historic New River Gorge Bridge. The bridge carries U.S. 19. Consequently, the visitor center and the observation boardwalks were much more crowded than the other locales.
I wanted to get a photo of the bridge from the river view. The only way to do that was to wind our way down narrow roadways with several sharp switchbacks. There were a few places to stop along the way, including one right under the famous bridge.
We continued down the twisting road, the river’s rapids on the right, bearing their white teeth. Soon we made a sharp, right-hand turn and drove across the old bridge to the designated parking lot. I told my wife I was heading to the bridge we had just crossed to photograph the New River Gorge Bridge, which spans 3,030 feet across the New River Gorge and is 876 feet above the river. The bridge is the longest single-span arch bridge in the world.
Rafters about to hit the rapids.
The New River Gorge Bridge.
The New River Gorge with the old bridge in the lower right.
Under the bridge.
Rafters and the old bridge.
The size of the boulders and the old bridge.
Running the rapids.
The New River Gorge Bridge taken from the old bridge.
However, I got distracted. I first heard and then saw whitewater rafters running the rapids with others waiting their turn. So, I hustled toward the water’s edge only to discover even bigger boulders than I had at Sandstone Falls. Wanting close-up shots, I scrambled across the rocks as carefully as I could. But the rafters were faster than this 75-year-old grandfather with a bad back and weak knees. Though only 50 feet from the water, I knew I should stop for safety’s sake. I got a few photos, including one lone kayaker who got turned around and bounced through the whitewater backward, just missing a giant rock. As soon as he hit calm water, he headed to the eastern shoreline to compose himself. I was doing the same in preparation for meeting my wife since I had been gone long enough to take the bridge photos and be back already.
After 52 years of marriage, I knew that look when I told her what I had done. I confessed that I should not have gone down there alone on those large slippery rocks. I hustled to get the coveted New River bridge photos. We drove back under the bridge on the switchback narrow roadway until we reached US 19.
The thrills I got from these two days easily could not block out my aches and pains. We learned a lot about the newest national park. And finally, after seven and a half decades, I realized I wasn’t 25 anymore.
Roadkill Crossing 
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