Our beautiful, terrifying planet is not without its juxtapositions. Some of the most enchanting places on Earth also harbor some of the most daunting locals. In Florida, hurricanes sometimes visit in the late Spring and early Fall, sweeping their massive hands across land and sea as if to smooth out the rough spots. The saving grace are the hidden gems scattered across the state like jewels waiting to be found. Some of the hidden treasures are not-so-hidden, such as the Everg

It is often said that a picture is worth a thousand words, and most of us find it to be true. Photographs can represent portals to the past, adventures taken out of our daily lives in a momentary attempt to forget the cares of the day. It is the hope of every artist that their works do one very important thing to the observer: transport. A famous painting can inspire awe and wonder toward a gone-but-not-forgotten artist. Photographer's are no exception to that rule, and like

A place can mean many things to a person, and each one has a story to tell, its own unique history. In much the same way that people do throughout their lives, a place will undertake many changes, journeys and phases. And, much like people, there are things left behind as they grow, and some things that remain unchanged in spite of the wear and tear of hundreds of years. The little-known oasis of history and community known as Ormond Beach remembers its long story. The Halifa

The young colonel sat shivering on the shores of the frosty bank, having only just pulled himself free of the hungry river and thus from what would have been certain death. Pneumonia was a notorious killer in the eighteenth century, but mercifully, such was not to be his fate. His companion, a stout surveyor and frontiersman, was busy hastily building a fire before the freezing temperature regained the upper hand. It was all the colonel could do to inch his way across the car

Imagine yourself perched at the top of a stunning landmark that overlooks the domain of both land and sea. You're sitting nearly six hundred feet up, you feel the gentle warmth of the sun and the harsh wind in your face, the sharp scent of the sea and the din of life down below. You're not afraid of falling, though everything beneath you feels far away and the people no larger than ants. Rather, you feel as though you were sitting at the top of the world. The Rock at Sunset

Through the lens, a hidden world of delicate beauty takes flight. A little-known sanctuary sits nestled in Florida's beautiful Coconut Grove. Known simply as "Butterfly World," it's a hidden gem of small beginnings that bloom into fantastical creations. For a hidden treasure that doesn't have the hype of Orlando's Disneyland, Butterfly World possesses a surprising amount of enchantment and tranquility. It's the perfect place to be if you want to escape from the din of the out

Imagine air you can almost taste, and a warm, balmy atmosphere that invigorates your pores and expands your lungs in a way that makes you feel as if you've never breathed before. From the start, you know that something about this place is different. There's an undercurrent of history and culture, but something deeper lingers as well. It's subtle, constantly reminding you that you're not just in a new place: you're standing on ancient grounds in the middle of an equally-ancien

With a heavy heart, Leon lifted his camera and captured he-knew-not-what, but at that point in time it didn't matter. With battle-weary eyes and cheeks raw with invisible tears, his heart could only half-appreciate the timeworn, vibrant canyons that sat before him like one of Earth's most exquisite treasures. He felt like a peasant at a king's banquet: unable to partake except with his eyes. Then the sun moved. This photograph of Lake Powell's sandstone canyons is available a

Who could have foreseen the change that would come? If the land could speak in any language, it would paint a history too dire and sweeping for any canvas to contain. The sky itself could not tell such a story. Both it and the land have witnessed the passing of ages together. Silent, hand in hand, like two ancient brothers destined to watch the beautiful and sometimes cruel cycle of time. Once upon a time, these lands were different. A beautiful hilltop view from Pear Valley

Henry Billings idly studied the compass in his cabin aboard the William's Flight. It had been two years since he'd set sail in search of the man who had ruined not only his brother's finances, but the family name as well. He could not abide such humiliation, and when Parliament failed to satisfy, he'd taken matters into his own hands and set sail with a modest crew, some of whom were close friends and others there simply for the wages. His family, after all, used to be known

Having had the immense privilege of photographing Operation Surf in Central California, it only seemed right to share their ongoing mission with you. The entire team of people who make up this operation prove the theory that "love is a verb." The arrival of Wounded Warriors at San Luis Obispo Airport Hundreds of locals show up at the airport to give an enthusiastic welcome and heartfelt thank you to the Operation Surf attendees. In most cases, the Wounded Warriors are coming

A hundred thoughts raced through Adam's mind as he stared at the space shuttle in the visitor's center, poised, as he thought, in a perpetual state of action. As if it still had some fight left in it, in spite of the trappings of humankind. There was a fine line between the fancies of boyhood and the endless expanse of being an adult in an adventurous, unpredictable and often dangerous world. It wouldn't be long before his own adventure launched in a much newer model, and whi

Freedom starts here. With speed. The audience and the race car drivers were on two sides of the same coin. One half basked in the electric environment, eager to share in a small portion of the thrills that came simply by partaking in the event. The other half, those few who at this point in life found themselves neck-high in the thrill and the risk of it all, were the drivers themselves. Anticipation for the start of the race thrummed across the stadium, leaving none immune t

As soon as he saw the raging spirit enter the corral, something deep down inside of him knew they were kindred spirits. A raucous, desert-brown sandstorm of a horse was manhandled into the corral, snorting, kicking and screaming for all the world as if it were a runaway steam engine. The cowhands shouted and tugged at the ropes and waved their hats, but he coolly leaned on the fence, never batting an eye. It was with the stoic trademark of his people that he kept his hair-tri

Princess of the Skies, Queen of Cumulus, Empress of Elysium...Zachary had heard just about every nickname under the sun given to these efficient machines. Lesser names often stuck as well. Hardware. Equipment. Man-made marvels. People could call them whatever they wanted, but to him they were more than machines made to be flown in, more than stunts for the public eye. In a way, Zachary felt as close to the Blue Angels fighter jets as a cowboy did his horse. Precision, Trust,

William "Bill" Stoughtly wiped the sweat from his brow as he trudged what he guessed to be his sixth mile through the uninviting terrain. He wasn't poetic by any stretch of the imagination, but even he couldn't help reflecting that the only inviting thing about this uncharted valley was the scenery. It's part of what lured him west in the first place, the other being the siren's call of gold, which meant fortune and, in the long run, an easier life. It's what all men wanted

Edmund Davies was nearly blindsided by the ship's boom as the great vessel lurched atop a violent wave. The storm had appeared out of nowhere, and what had started as a beautiful, promising day at sea now left them with no certain promise of tomorrow. Amidst the turmoil, he couldn't help but think of everything dear and safe he had left back on land and wished now that he'd never agreed to set foot aboard the Majestic. A young man who boasted neither wealth nor exemplary bree

Clarence gazed up at the stars from the festering, mud-filled trenches and took a shuddering breath. He had long lost track of how long he and his brothers-in-arms had been there, and even less how much had passed since the Civil War began. But even in the pit of darkness, there were reprieves. A rare moment in which the sound of gunfire was scarce finally arrived, though it wasn't without consequence. The squelching of boots trudging through thick mud, the moans of an injure

The village of Kodore housed the bravest warriors for two hundred miles in every direction. It wasn't the biggest village among the settlements that were scattered across the deep, dark forest. But what it lacked in numbers, it made up for through the reputation of Ika-mae, the bravest hunter in the land. One night during midsummer, the elders of his village held a council with the elders from the neighboring provinces. All of the settlements within two hundred miles of Kodor

K'runa heard the dull thrum of the motors long before he espied the strange creatures floating on top. From beneath the water, they looked like trees perched on a small hill. Cautiously, curiously, he emerged from the chill embrace of his domain and ventured to get a closer look. Without so much as a splash or sound, he smoothly raised nearly half his girth out of the water and got one good glimpse of the alien creatures. The high-pitched noises and raised arms told K'runa th