Erwin Buske Photography

Where the Gardens Meet the Sea

I spent Memorial Day weekend visiting my daughter, who now works at the University of California, Irvine. The longer holiday weekend made it easier for her to get away and spend some time together.

For three nights, I stayed at Casa Loma Beach Hotel in Laguna Beach, with direct access to beautiful Heisler Park, where these images were taken. I quickly fell in love with the ambiance of this place—clifftop gardens overlooking the Pacific, with sweeping views of Laguna Beach's rugged bluffs, hidden coves, and endless coastline.

It was such a memorable experience with my daughter, strolling through the gardens, walking along the beach, hopping across rocky outcrops, and peering into tide pools teeming with life. Whether at sunrise, sunset, or somewhere in between, the scenery was alive with color, ambiance and beauty.

It was a wonderful place to slow down, reconnect, and enjoy three memorable days along one of California's most remarkable stretches of coastline.

Palouse Lupine Dreams

Just after sunrise and the clearing of some valley fog, a beautiful patch of lupine looks out to the green wheat fields of the Palouse. I love photographing in this location and usually I look more for distant telephoto compositions featuring the waves and patterns of the spring wheat fields. But on this day I was drawn to a wide angle perspective of this beautiful patch of lupine along the slopes of Steptoe Butte. The combination of wild nature and the cultivated farm fields seem to live and thrive together in a harmonious chorus underneath a glorious Eastern Washington sky. Image 2019

Mt. St. Helens Bear Grass Rising Above the Clouds

This was sure a beautiful scene as the fog rolled in below the mountain perch where I photographed these Bear Grass flowers rising above the clouds. It did, however, pose some major navigation challenges hiking out in the thick fog in the dark with headlamp. I literally could not see the trail in places because the fog was so thick making me completely reliant on my GPS cell phone navigation. Luckily my battery held out until I was out of the danger zone!

Phlox and Sun Flowers in Paradise

Lavender Phlox point the way out to fields of Balsam Root Sunflowers, wavy green hills, and Mt Hood during a spectacular sunset at the Columbia Hills State Park, Washington State. Image 2019

Where Granite Blooms

I make the hike to Dirty Harry’s Balcony a few times each year. It’s convenient, accessible even through the winter months, and often serves as a reliable escape when higher trails remain buried in snow. But in spring, this balcony takes on an entirely different character.

Penstemon flowers find life in long cracks carved through otherwise solid granite, transforming this rugged rocky perch into something unexpectedly vibrant. Their purple blooms seem to breathe life into the stone itself as they overlook the deep valleys and distant peaks of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness.

Dirty Harry’s Balcony and nearby Dirty Harry’s Peak were named after logger Harry Gault, who worked these mountains decades ago. According to local hiking history, Harry had a rough-and-tumble reputation, earning him the nickname “Dirty Harry,” a name later reinforced by the popularity of the Clint Eastwood character. Today, the name feels fitting for this wild and rugged corner of the Cascades — though in spring, the mountain softens beneath the colors of new life.

Forest Benediction

Ferns are plants of shade and quiet places. They thrive deep beneath dense forest canopies where only scattered light reaches the forest floor. Yet on west-facing mountain slopes, the setting sun can briefly break through the trees, flooding the understory with sudden golden light before evening fades.

That is what happened yesterday while hiking out from Dirty Harry’s Balcony. A scene I normally might have passed without notice suddenly stopped me in my tracks. The glowing ferns, the towering evergreens, and the final rays of sunlight felt almost reverent, and I paused for a moment to pay my respects to the setting sun.

A Patagonia Sunrise in Three Movements

Sunrise at Mirador de los Cóndores revealed many moods of Fitz Roy as clouds drifted across the peaks and changing light transformed the landscape from moment to moment.

At first light, warm alpenglow touched the granite spires before the mountain slipped in and out of passing clouds. As the sun climbed higher, the moon slowly descended above a lenga forest glowing with the deep reds and golds of Patagonian autumn. Reflected moonlight mingled with the first sunlight, creating a fleeting harmony of cool and warm tones across the landscape.

Patagonia often feels untamed and dramatic, but this morning carried an unexpected stillness — a reminder that even the wildest places can offer moments of quiet grace

Columbia Gorge Super Pink Moonrise

Well I have to confess this was actually one day before the actual Super Pink Moon. At this particular location, however, the moon was actually brighter, and definitely surrounded by more pink! The moon rose somewhat earlier so that it would be in an optimal position over the Columbia Gorge Hills during twilight just after the sun set. Sometimes actual days do not matter and we must think a little out of the box and go with the flow! I just loved the way the moon light accented the texture and seed pods of the desert parsley in the foreground and brought out the brilliant yellows of the Balsam Root flowers-a most memorable experience.
Image 2021

Silver Falls in a Mossy Forest
Image 2022

Enchanted Pathway

Here are a few more glimpses of the springtime beauty at the Seattle Japanese Garden, where I walked a beautiful pathway through Azaleas in radiant bloom, past Irises rising above a sea of pink blossoms, and underneath an arbor covered by soft cascades of Wisteria blossoms. Each turn of the path felt like stepping deeper into a season of renewal, color, and calming touch of Mother Nature.

Where Dreams Meet Morning Light

As first light appears, winds gentle by Patagonian standards carry small icebergs silently across the luminous glacial-blue waters of Laguna Torre. Now and then, I hear the soft splash of glacier water against the smooth stones along the shore. A tiny harbor of rocks draws the eye across the lake toward the distant jagged peaks.

In that moment, I think to myself: I am living one of my dreams. Some say adventures like this must wait for another life. But here, beneath the rising light of Patagonia, I know there is only the present — and that dreams are not meant to be postponed, but lived one day at a time.