Capturing Creativity
What did we do before phone cameras? Diana shoots and shares images to express her love for nature and convey stories of wildlife and biodiversity. Call it visual eco-storytelling. Smartphones, she believes, democratize environmental photography by putting the power to document a breathtaking moment in everyone’s pocket. #CellPhoneOut
Autumn Under Glass
This. It is why I never grow weary of visiting my favorite trails and woods week after week, month after month. I believe this may be my favorite photo of all time, which is quite a declaration given my woodsy wanderlust. Nature is the ultimate creator, changing the lighting, color, water flow, movement, materials, all of it, for the gift of seeing this world in a new, inspiring way when we take the time to look closer. I hit Kate's Trail in Princeton and Lawrence one Saturday in October expecting to admire the autumn leaves — only to spot the most enchanting golds, reds and ambers beneath the swirling Stony Brook.
Senescence
Look at this. That is often my photography inspiration. I'm not seeking perfection in composition, but instead pausing long enough for the world to become more complicated. Visual storytelling teaches me how to notice. I don't see a dead flowerhead, but instead the architecture of the seed head in the coneflower, the tiny feather snagged among the spines, the subtle curve of the stem. I experience things in a new way. Click on this photo for my poem about the Princeton Poetry Trail, inspired by this moment.
Sweet Pea
This gorgeous flash of color caught my eye while I was riding my bike in North West Mercer Park. Peavine or Eternal Pea, it reminds me of a miniature iris. The delicate flower petals have three sections: the banner, the wings and the keel. It stood alone in a vast field of vines and grasses -- a fleeting bloom, yet eternally in my heart.
The Art of Abandonment
I am fascinated by abandoned spaces, like this old house near Church Rd on the NJ side of Washington Crossing Park. The history is alluring, as is the way nature reclaims these structures; the organic process of enfolding and decomposing. "My heart is drawn to neglected landscapes. If I haven’t time to linger, I find my way back, searching for clues through clouded windows and snapping random sprays of daffodils springing up from displaced gardens. My fingertips find the drafts above cellar doors. Who’s down there, I muse, eyeing openings just wide enough for foxes and troubled souls to slip into chilled darkness." Click on the image to read my lyric essay about exploring an abandoned house and reconnecting with my past.
Stained Glass
Chasing butterflies seems so cliché. But, in fact, I was doing just that one summer morning on the Princeton Poetry Trail. As the sunlight passed through this monarch's burnt amber wings, it illuminated the most intricate details of God's design, with painted dots of varying sizes and colors and orange and black stained glass panels, set against the backdrop of sweet purple bee balm. Dried flowers texturize the landscape. Spiritual inspiration.
Morning Mane
I was cruising by Pennington’s Curlis Woods on my bike at 8:00 a.m. one November morning when these horses — residents of the Mercer Equestrian Center — emerged from the mist. What a gift to be alone with these gorgeous creatures in this moment, on this path. My mom passed away from Cancer on an ethereal morning much like this.
Radiant Spirals
Okay, I'm obsessed...with sunflowers. Can you blame me? Look at the center of this exquisite bloom, captured on the back poetry trails of Greenway Meadows in Princeton. I see pollination biology and intricate geometry with interlocking cells of developing florets. Shadows, variant yellows, layered petals. Nature art at its finest. Click on this image for a fun poem about the color yellow.
Glory
I am drawn to the paths and fields near my home on my early-evening bike rides. I remember this moment so well. I reached one of my favorite stretches of the Lawrence Hopewell Trail, parallel to Old Mill Road, and paused for a beat to admire the eagles’ nest in the crook of a massive sycamore. I was greeted with this glorious canvas of color, depth and light.
Sunup, Seed Down
Spears of cattail fluff pointed skyward along the marshy edges of Amwell Lake in Ringoes one May morning. As if the brown flower heads of cattails aren't intriguing enough...this downy filling emerges from winter like the matted wool of a forgotten sheep. Or a skewered Tribble? I trudged through potential snake territory to get this shot. The fluff has great properties for insulation, doll stuffing and even wound care.
In Pieces
During a hike up Baldpate Mountain, I felt drawn toward the lovely pieces of things — a tattered Spicebush swallowtail, the soft remnants of a Cottontail, tulip tree petals. Can not fracture be even more beautiful than wholeness? Please click on the photo to read the poem that followed. My dad believed poetry should rhyme. Most of mine doesn't! But I tried my hand at it this time. Nature is my forever inspiration.
Autumn Fire
This photo reflects a personal truth — fall is my favorite season. As I pedaled along the Lawrence Hopewell Trail one evening in late October, the vibrance of this backlit burning bush against the canvas of a browning meadow, clouds and fading sunlight took my breath away. A true "Glorian"...moment of grace.
The Admiral and the Luna
Nature is perpetual wonder. I walked out to get my mail one afternoon and startled a Northern Mockingbird trying to lift this Luna moth, stick attached, off the driveway. As I looked closer, I discovered the Red-spotted Purple in residence. Curious about their “connection,” I posted the photos in a wildlife group, only to learn that this type of butterfly eats carrion and was likely dining on the Luna, whose life is ephemeral.
The Color Purple
I was channeling Alice Walker this evening during my favorite bike ride, which takes me by Rosedale Lake. In The Color Purple she wrote: "I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.” I did more than notice it; I climbed into this wildflower patch beside the dog park to shoot toward the setting sun. Even when I ride by the spot in the cooler months, my heart holds this vibrance.
Amber and Gold
Sometimes, you need only look out your window for transcendence. Living across from a 235-acre horse farm to the west, I am often chasing glorious sunset photos out my front door. This winter day, the falling sun set my bush of dried hydrangea blooms afire, the amber glow reflecting off a sculpture of twisted ice sheaths. Once-in-a-lifetime wonder. Everlasting.
Teasel at Sunset
These spiky, thorny cone-shaped plants rise up in abundance across the fields I frequent. So intricate and intriguing! They bloom purple in the spring, and their unique shape and design inspire awe in the fall. I often hit Google the minute I get home to learn more about what I shoot. The teasel was once used in the textile industry to raise the nap on woolen cloth. Nature is extraordinary.
Another Season
I spotted this blooming teasel amidst the sunflowers spreading across an intentional meadow near Rosedale Lake. Open space in and around Pennington, NJ supports widespread community conservation, encouraging everyone from homeowners to park rangers to create native-plant meadows for pollinators. This newer meadow in Rosedale Park is a lovely stop on my late-day LHT bike route. Cool Teasel trivia: Opposite leaves fuse together at the base to form a cup that collects rainwater. This water moat stops insects from climbing the stem.
Art Aflight
This Eastern Tiger Swallowtail took my breath away one August day while I was hiking in North West Mercer Park. The wing mosaic, its darting tongue, the ironweed, abundance of grasses, blue sky and clouds off in the distance add so much depth and texture to this simple shot. And the sunlight...always the greatest inspiration. Click on the image for my poem mentioning another ill-fated swallowtail.
Pollinator Obsession
July 13, 2025, I started a new tradition — a hike to the top of Baldpate Mountain the morning after my birthday. On my inaugural climb, I encountered this Hummingbird Clearwing, zipping through the Wild Bergamot blooms with grace and intention. These excellent pollinators are welcome visitors to the meadow restoration atop Baldpate.
Beyond the Bergamot
Friday, March 20, 2026, the first day of spring, I felt a pull to St. Michael's Preserve in Hopewell. It had been a long, snowy winter and I was searching for signs of renewal. These dried wild bergamot globes, set off by vacant slate grey milkweed pods, were a spare and lovely vestige of summer. I was reminded of this photo recently when I saw a Great Blue Heron gliding through brown marsh grass at Amwell Lake. Winter's delicate canvas.
Old Mill Moon
Doesn’t this photo spark an ethos of enchantment? As this Harvest Moon appeared above the fields along Old Mill Road in Pennington, I felt the warmth of the colors and the artistry of the hedge. How can you not dream of hidden spirits and distant worlds rising beyond this wild border?
Forest Enchantment
I spent the first 18 Julies of my life in the Grafton mountains of Upstate New York. My grandparents’ cabin ("camp") sat alongside Forest Lake, a one-mile stretch of perfection, surrounded by wild woods. I hid my troll dolls in root-latticed holes and built fairy houses out of twigs and leaves. My love of nature began there, and storytelling followed. I return each summer to get lost in the woods.
Milkweed Pod
Architect Frank Lloyd Wright said, “Art is a discovery and development of elementary principles of nature into beautiful forms suitable for human use.” I easily get lost in nature’s architectural curves and designs. Nature is art. Click on the photo to read my poem, Milkweed Seduction.
Awaiting Mom's Return
One morning I stepped outside in the early-morning dew to snip a peony bloom for my kitchen table. I was so focused on my task that I didn’t notice the visitor watching me from beyond my garden. Precious. Vulnerable. Awaiting Mom’s return. You’re safe here, sweet baby.
Metal and Glass
Ice transformed leaves into twisted copper and gold one afternoon as I walked beside a horse pasteur on Woosamonsa Road. The breathtaking intricacies of design! All nature at work. Elizabeth Gilbert (Big Magic and Eat, Pray, Love) describes the natural world as a relentless creator, viewing nature not just as a setting, but as a living, breathing participant in the act of creation.
Sweet Sunshine
So often on my bike rides, I encounter deer watching me with fear and curiosity. More times than not, they bound away, white tails waving and bouncing. And other times, they lock in, alert and accepting of my intrusion. Perhaps that day’s grass, tinged in sunset, was particularly sweet. This is their world, and I am just passing through.
Lilac Bandit
Imagine this nature nerd’s delight to look up from my laptop one late afternoon and spot a mama raccoon scuttling across my deck. Her response to me pressing my phone camera against the sliding glass door: to climb clumsily into the lilac bush for shelter and safety. I see you!
Walking With Jacob
"Submerged offcuts of ice bobbed like specters center-stream, trapping traveling beech leaves in yellowing eyelets. Water tumbled over shale stone in cascades, merging into a frenzy. And then, a gentle moment in a nearby eddy. Ripples gliding into geometric patterns like the fanned tail feathers of a Cooper’s Hawk." Click on the image to read my personal essay about Jacob's Creek.
Spring Cadence
The Princeton Poetry Trail is among my most cherished escapes. The one-mile loop meanders through a biodiverse meadow with endless vibrance and texture. The shining Helianthus attract pollinators like these bees, as well as flocks of goldfinches. It’s a magical space — with poetry.
Of Skimmers and Shadows
While hiking along the banks of Alexauken Creek in West Amwell, N.J., I came upon a shallow pool rippling with water striders. The angle of the sun distorted their shadows, creating this cool optical illusion. Reflect on this: simply striding into the sun has its own kind of power to transform.
Toward the Sky
Autumn in the forest beneath an azure sky. This October morning, my husband and I headed down an overgrown Kate's Trail in Princeton, named for a young woman who died in a car accident when she was 17. These woodland memorials are so precious. How can you not feel their spirits in these hidden enclaves?
Turkey Tail
I am forever taking snapshots of mushrooms when I visit my family in the Grafton mountains of upstate NY. The varieties are endless! It's a mycologist's playground. I believe this is Trametes versicolor, a mushroom species also known as Turkey Tail because it resembles a wild turkey's tail feathers. It is known to boost the immune system and is also approved as a cancer treatment in some countries, including Japan.