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You know those places you return to again and again, where each time is just like the first and still better than the last? Saratoga is one of those places for me, and particularly the racetrack, where money and booze, thoroughbreds and jockeys, silk and leather, cigars and fancy hats rub shoulders and exchange nods like members of a secret society. The horses are sexy and strong. The women are perfumed and their rainbow colored hair meticulously coifed. Men look snappy and elegant if they're owners or regulars, and tired and intensely focused if they're handlers. Teller lines are long but fast moving and all faces are furtively fixed on video boards and CC TVs. Trackside, the atmosphere is electric and bright as thoroughbreds thunder by, sweating, gasping, veins and muscles bulging and covered in mud. Yeah. I like it. I hope I get to go back.

My daydreams these days revolve around a fully converted, off-grid-capable camper van, an assortment of photography/computer/wifi gear, a thermos of fresh coffee, a full tank of gas and miles of open road. Sadly, I have neither the budget nor expertise to convert a van, much less launch out on a fall foliage tour of the Adirondacks, America’s breathtaking national parks or wherever that open road might take me. Instead, I watch Facebook and Instagram and travel vicariously through the images of friends and mentors. Which is why my bi-weekly day-trips to the hamlet of Mumford have been a godsend over the last two years. Without spending more than a few dollars for gas and traveling less than an hour west on Routes 5&20, I can be transported — for the better part of a day — to another world. Genesee Country Village and Museum, the third largest living museum in the United States, is a 600-acre complex boasting 68 historical buildings and an army of costumed interpreters who love loca

Is the best camera really the one you have with you? Photographer Chase Jarvis thought so, and in 2009 wrote a whole book by that title featuring smartphone images. I tend to agree, especially when a once-in-a-lifetime moment pops up and the one thing I have in hand is an iPhone and a split-second window of opportunity. One of my most treasured images from the last decade is a discreet closeup of my mom cradling my dad’s hand as he lay dying. Captured spontaneously and non-intrusively with my cell phone from across the hospital room, it shows the depth and richness of their 75-year love story. Thankfully, the moment is ours forever because my phone was in my hand and I responded in a way that was respectful to and honoring of everyone.  The same truth holds in more everyday settings, where “smaller can be better” for the amateur or semi-pro image maker. Venues are more welcoming and subjects more relaxed when a photographer is wielding a cell phone instead of a large camera. In sensiti

I've heard tales of the spectacular "Mertensia Park bluebells" for years. But despite my best efforts to juggle work and home schedules, life never lined up so I could experience them first hand. At last I was able to visit this week — twice — and discovered hidden treasures and peace of mind both times. Healing, even. I took my Canon EF 100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM   along to see how it would handle closeups and longer distance shots, and it was good to forge a relationship with what I've previously considered to be my uni-tasker.  Walk with me....  

These on-the-fly bluebird captures were a total gift. Taken at very long range with a Sigma 100-400mm f/5-6.3 DG OS HSM Contemporary zoom lens, they're essentially unedited (apart from cropping and a very slight boost of texture.)  I think he was more at ease from a substantial height and distance so he took a quick moment to enjoy the view.  So did I. I love this guy who, as it turns out, is quite aggressive about defending his territory from the sparrows. You've got to admire that.  Good looks and an attitude, too.  

That perfect shot. Oh, the time we’ve poured into planning, trekking, stalking, calculating, positioning and finally focusing in order to capture it. And often it's in a remote location, in extreme cold or heat, at inconvenient hours of the day or night. That's followed by the endless hours of editing, tweaking, education and skill development to coax it into perfection. And let’s not forget the small fortune we’ve poured into procuring the toys and tools that fill our multiple camera bags to help make that perfect shot even possible. So we’ve captured the images — lots of them, if we’re lucky. And they’re gorgeous. Now what? How can we move them beyond our computer monitor and out into the world? How might they help enrich the lives of our friends and families and those in our community? And how can we ensure our photographs — the product of our time, passion, creativity and cash — will outlive us and become a legacy for future generations? My grandfather was a career