Many nature photographers and enthusiasts take a hiatus during the winter months. To be honest, I can't blame them. Years of shooting in the bitter cold takes its tole on the extremities. My fingers, toes and tip of my nose now fears the frost. It's hard not to question my own sanity, yet... I persevere. I console myself with the naive belief that I am unique in this craft and that few are willing to capture the harsh months like I do.
In a few days I turn 48. As I approach 50, I am increasingly curious about how these experiences impact my longevity. Does the solitude during a winter shoot save me as many years as the cold takes away? I doubt I'll ever know, just like I doubt I'll ever stop. In my last post,Fool Me Twice, I shared a treasured experience with otters that emerged from an ephemeral break in the ice. During the next five posts I spare you my words and just share some of what I've seen this winter. It's been a good year so far, now I'm looking forward to what follows 47.
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