Eagles around Kodiak are plentiful as crows during the winter. Perched shoulder-to-shoulder with their fellow raptors, they haggle over fish scraps, those leftover bits that fall below seafood processor radars.
Eagles around Kodiak are plentiful as crows during the winter. Perched shoulder-to-shoulder with their fellow raptors, they haggle over fish scraps, those leftover bits that fall below seafood processor radars.
Portraits and landscapes make up the majority of images we see. They’re also the most difficult to take. Why is that? I have a theory.
As I left the greenhouse and walked toward the house, I heard a loud puhhh-HUP behind me. I twisted around and took two steps toward the ocean, just in time to see an orca whale’s black, dorsal fin disappear below the surface. I’m always humbled…
Every winter, Marty and I exit Alaska in search of new hiking trails and a Vitamin D fix. This year was different. First, we traveled by land-yacht (RV), and second, I vowed to play with my iPhone’s photo apps. How did it…
It’s 10:30 PM on December 31 in Kodiak, Alaska. Dogs are barking outside, thanks to fireworks. Yes, I’ve received invitations to parties, but I’m not going out tonight. Rather,
Excited at the prospect of photographing snowflakes (one of my favorite winter activities), Marty and I booked flights to Anchorage, Alaska. Though it’s only a 60-minute flight north
If you’re off to a party, consider placing a wreath made of violets, roses, myrtle, parsley and ivy on top of your head. According to Pliny the Elder, a corona convivial was thought to counter the effects of intoxication.
This story is about a photograph taken in Homer, Alaska, shared by a friend of mine, LA Holmes… On a clear winter day, Cy and I loaded the “toter” Toyota pickup truck with our laundry for the weekly cleaning event.
Ever had a roommate that changed your life? In 1976, I lived in a small 2-bedroom apartment in north Seattle’s Green Lake district. My roommate, Cathy Childs, was 15 years older than me. She had long blonde hair
My best times in the garden happen in the early morning: Dew-kissed strawberries, slow bumblebees (an oxymoron, I know) and flowers backlit by the new-day sun.
I’m Marion Owen. I work, relax, and love life in Kodiak, Alaska. I’ve worked on research ships, created photographs that hang in The Smithsonian, given up cheese and meat, and enjoy watching bumblebees and snowflakes. And somewhere along the line, I co-authored the New York Times bestseller, Chicken Soup for the Gardener’s Soul. I’m learning how to not do too much. To be authentic, embrace joy, and not burn the oatmeal.
Thank you for being here,
