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One of the prettiest Corn Snakes I've seen in North Florida. I don't photograph them very often, but this one deserved it.
This is the view from Deer Creek Trail. I'm looking down into some tributaries feeding into the Deer Creek Reservoir. I was hoping to see a sunrise but as everybody knows, just because you hike up doesn't mean nature has to comply.
This buck was hiding in the trees about 80 yards across the canal from me. Not sure how long it watching me before I looked up and saw him there.
© Ray Skwire
As I have the last several days, I've been heading to Camden each night for sunset to redo a particular shot that I got about a year ago. After yesterday's rain, it was kind of a priority to get out today because the window for this shot is almost closed. However, if you hadn't noticed today, there were really interesting clouds and rain shafts all over the place today with lots of structure and precipitation. So when I was pulling up at the waterfront and saw an incredible rain shaft just north of the Ben Franklin Bridge, I thought about chasing it, then decided against it, and then quickly changed my mind once more. Now, I've already posted a shot of this from later on in this chase and I will likely post some more of it finally moving away from me, but I actually fired off a bunch of shots of this while cruising because I knew there was a good chance that I simply would not be able to catch up with this and that with the sun starting to wind down, this was going to start falling apart. So, I'm glad that I did shoot out the window because this actually turned out well. I had to adjust the level and crop in because it was pretty cockeyed, and I did enhance the structure some because it was soft (shooting it at 20mm from farther away than it appears), but I can guarantee that's actually exactly how it looked - large swirling wisps of rain, mammatus, significant turbulence, and amazing structure. What a thing of beauty!
© Ray Skwire
Out in southern New Jersey for a series of cells that moved through in the evening and during the overnight.
In the rugged heart of the Lake District, the ancient stone wall of Kirkstone Pass stands as a silent sentinel, guiding the winding road up towards the misty heights. On a day veiled in soft, ethereal cloud, the world is muted to a palette of mossy greens and stoic greys. The road curves sharply, promising further ascent into the mountains, which rise in a series of sweeping, desolate flanks. A lone, wind-battered tree clings to the rise across the wall, a testament to the persistent wildness of this landscape. The sheer scale and raw beauty of the fells, wrapped in a cool Cumbrian mist, evoke a sense of profound solitude—a place where history, weather, and rock meet in a timeless embrace.
Life is a journey up a spiral staircase; as we grow older we cover the ground covered we have covered before, only higher up; as we look down the winding stair below us we measure our progress by the number of places where we were but no longer are. The journey is both repetitious and progressive; we go both round and upward.
William Butler Yeats
© Ray Skwire
A better view of yesterday's line of storms producing a pretty mean looking front edge as it moved from Wilmington, DE across the Delaware River into Pennsgrove, NJ. This system produced magnificent mammatus out ahead of the approaching cell (just visible in the upper left), strong wind, heavy downpours, and frequent lightning. Later, as it moved through the area and lost most of its strength, a large and vivid rainbow appeared before a muted sunset cast tones of blue and magenta onto the higher levels of clouds.
© Ray Skwire
South Jersey Sunset
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As I was making my way towards the Wharton State forest fire on my way home last night, I got lucky enough to catch the sun sinking down over the smoke filled pinelands, which was both a beautiful and eerie site.
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I think this is a Paper Wasp nest. The "thread" is a very thin part of a Madrone branch. I didn't see any activity. Maybe they are hibernating??
Perched on the rough bark of a decaying tree, this striking Dryad's Saddle (Cerioporus squamosus) stands as a small, elegant guardian of the autumn woods. Its broad, mottled cap, patterned with concentric scales of rich brown, catches the subdued forest light. The thick, creamy pore surface underneath contrasts sharply with the textured trunk it emerges from, a silent testament to the natural cycle of decay and renewal unfolding in the quiet, damp undergrowth.
I went on a quick drive into the Wasatch Mountains following a storm. The clouds were incredible; and then the sun shot out and highlighted the mountains and made the moment magical.
Nikon D810 ISO160 ƒ/11 1/4000sec 160mm
As the year draws to a close and the light begins to fade, this tenacious seed head stands tall, a relic of summer's bloom. Its once-vibrant flower has transformed into a spiky, defensive sphere, silhouetted against a sky painted in soft, cool hues of blue and rose. It is a portrait of resilience, a tiny, defiant orb holding its secrets and seeds high against the vast, shifting canvas of a late-autumn evening. It waits patiently for the wind to carry its legacy forward.