The Weekly Spark: Original Photography & Reflections

There's no reason I should've seen him. He was the size of a quarter, a baby frog sitting on ninety-degree black asphalt, blending right in. I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

It is amazing how quickly things change. One day you are looking at a late-season landscape, and the next, a sudden shift brings a completely new perspective.

Sometimes the best places to clear your head are the ones tied to good memories. I took this photo at Kathryn Albertson Park in Boise. When my son was young, it was one of our favorite spots to visit—we always just called it "our park".

​I heard that quote recently and it stuck with me. The speaker was a prepper talking about spending a weekend with his daughter, reminding us that the point of preparing is to enjoy right now, not to spend all our time worrying about later.

I couldn't help but think of Nick and all our fishing trips we enjoyed together. One of his greatest talents was reaching into a tackle box full of old lures, knotted line, and mismatched hooks, pulling something together, and making it work. He didn't need the newest rod or the most expensive bait. He just needed to be on the shore with a line in the water. I'd bring my own gear, but most of the time I'd be watching him—taking picture after picture of a kid who was completely in his element. Those photos still bring it all back, years later.

You know that feeling when you leave a project half-done, or even just leave a book open on the table with two chapters left? It’s like walking around with twenty browser tabs open in your mind at once. Even if you’re only looking at one specific screen, you’re still subtly aware of all those other open windows cluttering the background.

I was watching a video the other day and came across a concept that explains exactly why our brains do this. It’s called the Zeigarnik effect.

The story goes back to the 1920s at a busy café. A researcher noticed that the waiters could remember massive, complicated orders perfectly—but only until the bill was paid. The second the transaction was settled, the memory completely vanished from their minds.

June 10th is the anniversary of the beginning of my 2017 bike ride across America. Looking back at the photos now, I definitely see them differently than I did at the time.
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Take this stretched-out Cadillac I found parked in Wyoming. Back then, I just thought it was a cool, quirky car. Today, I noticed something else.

"Later" is a small word that seems harmless on the surface. We often use it in casual conversations, such as "See you later" or "Talk to you later." However, we need to be careful with this word, because if we use it too casually, "later" may never come.

NEW! Sharing both color and black & white photos.

This week’s Spark takes a more reflective tone than previous posts. Last Thursday, I was shocked to learn of the sudden and tragic passing of NASCAR driver Kyle Busch—a fierce competitor and champion in the racing world. He was just 41, leaving behind a wife and two young children, ages 11 and 4.

I usually share photos only in black and white. Color can be a distraction; it tells your brain what to focus on before you truly notice the details. In black and white, you have to slow down and look past the surface to see, for example, the frog blending into the background.
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So why am I including both photos today?

When I crossed into Colorado on my bike ride across America and snapped a photo in front of the “Welcome to Colorful Colorado” sign, everything changed. For some, that sign is just a spot for a quick picture. For me, it meant something deeper.