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The Spanish Peaks of the Madison Range…my daily view.

After more than 30 years of living and working in the South, I’m finally back home…although it took a little longer than expected.  It might be my only missed deadline.

Big Sky, Montana is not where I grew up (Oregon, Calif., Nevada, Colorado), but it is close enough.  My heart has always resided in the West…its culture, people, and landscapes.  I would like to believe that a Western state of mind has always defined who I am.

Atlanta, where I was given the chance to see and experience the world with a camera around my neck, was never quite the right fit, like a pair of new shoes that refused to be broken in.  The West, on the other hand, has always been like that old pair of jeans that no matter how faded and tattered, always fit perfect.  I never threw those jeans away.

No regrets, though.  I made the most of my time south of the Mason-Dixon Line.  I was very lucky to experience that world as a journalist with a camera for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, meeting some amazing people along the way, and making some great friends.  There is much to miss, but not everything.  I have traded in hazy skylines for the mountains, traffic jams for dusty drives, barking neighborhood dogs for bugling elk, and bad air days for powder days.

After traveling the West this summer with my daughter, all in the name of junior golf (she is now playing golf for Seattle University), the dust has settled and I’m back doing what I love…in a place I love.

For the past four years, I have been splitting my time between Atlanta and Montana, wearing the hat of a freelancer, and here are some of my favorite images from those assignments.  Stay tuned for more updates from the “Last Best Place”.

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