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Over a million acres burned in Montana this summer. More than any year in recorded history. For two and a half months, the entire state woke to blood-red sunrises, sky-blocking plumes of smoke, air quality as poor as in any smog-cloaked city, and the constant fear that with a single spark more fires would rage. Homes were destroyed, firefighters lost their lives, and millions upon millions of dollars were spent, but as our president thundered about North Korea, Hurricanes Irma and Harvey chewed paths of destruction through Florida and Texas, and wild land fires threatened Los Angeles, not much was...

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Tomorrow, if the weather channel is to be believed, it will snow. Insects will freeze, flowers will wilt, pika will remain inside their rocky homes where they’ll sample their stores of summer-gathered grasses, and the world will sport its first white coat of its longest season. Yes, tomorrow it may snow, but not today. Today, summer is firmly in control. Even the approaching storm and my autumnal sense of change can’t convince me otherwise. I’m at the trailhead to Glacier Lake in Montana’s Absaroka Mountains, already sweating as I leave the beaten path in favor of my own course up...

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If there’s such a thing as a universal thread running through my universe, connecting the years, setting place markers, binding in some small way the smaller purpose of one man’s existence here on Earth, mine is made of monofilament. It runs through the guides of a bamboo fly rod, down into the waters of an early-fall stream, where its terminus is a tattered grasshopper fly anchored in the upper jaw of a male brook trout. I have come back to this place, high in the mountains of Montana on a hazy, September day to remind myself of this. To confine...

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Somehow it is summer again, and already the days are growing shorter. The seasons pass in time-lapse speed, blending hot and cold, wake and sleep, falling leaves and swelling buds into a hodgepodge collage in my mind where real-time seems composed of past, present, and future all at once. For just a moment, I want to hang on to something, I think, as I park my truck near the base of one of Montana’s tallest mountains. I want to grab on, dig my heels in, and strain – however futilely – against this rapid passage of time. I want to...

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Every year, on the cusp of true, Rocky Mountain summer, I travel to the high country to photograph butterflies. For a brief couple of weeks, during the height of the alpine meadow bloom, when lupines and mallows turn acres of open space to blue and pink, Montana's butterflies make the most of their short season.  This year, I test drove Nikon's flagship dx camera, the D500. I ran it with Nikon's 300mm f4 PF VR and the tc-14e iii,  giving me a whopping 630mm of reach, hoping to bring these colorful insects up close and personal and preserve more depth...

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