Going through the images I made in 2020 mostly makes me cringe. I didn’t take any great photos. I didn’t have any spectacular assignments. I was in rural Idaho for most of the year, trying to keep a COVID-free bubble in a home with an elderly parent. There were no protests, or long lines at food pantries, just empty streets with occasional lawn mowing, rattling tractors and a sun-bleached polyester Trump flags.
So, I got my bear-spray and started going on long hikes in the nearby forest with my dog. I went farther and farther away from my dad’s home in the small village of Ashton, and ended up spending days in Yellowstone and Grand Teton Parks, watching birds and animals. I started listening to bird watching podcasts and soon pitched up with my camera and a folding chair. Some days I burned a lot of gas and only saw a chipmunk. Other days I was lucky to see something wonderful like a hunting coyote or a swooping osprey clutching a fish. It was surprising to feel that excited feeling when you know you nailed something singular. Honestly, I hadn't felt like that in a while. Pretty much instantly, it triggered the magpie reflex and I became obsessed with collecting a little collection.
I also baked a virgin loaf of bread and read some books, but my days in 2020 were mostly made meaningful once again by photography. Photography has given me my best friends, countless adventures, happy memories and some sad ones too. I shouldn’t be surprised the profession I love saved me in this most horrible of years.
