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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...

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...

It's been over a year, and I still think of him about once or twice a week, every time I pass Church Street. I wonder how he's doing, if he's well, if he's had his 1972 Pirsch Tiller ladder truck out on the road yet this Spring. I wonder what he's added to his massive collection of fire department memorabilia — any new fire boxes, bells, photos, ledgers, record books? I'd love to spend an hour or two listening to that slow, methodical syncopated drawl tell about his latest acquisitions, and why he finds them fascinating. I truly believe every gem he has found is, to him, one more rescued and adopted child of unique and priceless value. I wonder if his children and grandchildren know what a treasure they've got in him. I wonder if he's got any new projects in the works. I wonder what kind soup is simmering on the stove in his comfortable kitchen — he was cooking up something special for Mrs. Graham when I was there last. I wonder if I'll ev...