Tim Pokorny's photostream  

The sun setting red over the mountains behind Queenstown, New Zealand.

It's Autumn in Central Otago, and everywhere the leaves are turning red. Tonight, the sun tried to match it, and then some. It's early days of my trip and I've been in a real funk. The weather has got me down and I've just not been able to throw myself into things like I used to. I'm wasting precious time being a bit of a princess and really have to check myself at dinner to appreciate the position I'm in.

The sunset started to look promising right as I was racing around between Arrowtown and Queenstown. I thought maybe my luck was turning as I navigated to what I hoped was going to be a good spot, only to realize I'd gone in the complete wrong direction. Looking back on these shots many, many months later, I only now begin to appreciate what I've got here. I didn't see it at first, and the other frames from this session are, honestly, very bland. This was the last shot of the day, and felt like a bit of a throw-away as the light was leaving. There's a hard lesson in that for me. Time out with the camera is precious for the amateur. Looking back and seeing that the evening really could produce something I've come to love makes me sad that I didn't appreciate it more in the first place.

Snapshots are like frozen little memories. A candid moment, otherwise lost in the passage of time, captured to help bring back the memory years later. I don't know much about the little girl in this picture yet, except that I love her. I hope she feel as at peace as she looks, that she's comfortable and happy wrapped up in her mothers tummy. As the years pass, there will be many, many more photos, but this particular snapshot, our first real glimpse at her, will always remain something special.

Like all kittens, Missy was a mischievous little girl. Climbing under, over, through and onto anything she could find. Such an innocent face, despite being caught in a place she would struggle to get down from.

I love trees. They seem to have some sort of character and nobility to them that I can't quite explain. Perhaps it's just their longevity that engenders a feeling of wisdom or knowing. Whatever it is, they have always felt to me as something more than just a length of wood. Something special.

A collection of Red Tingle trees in Denmark, Western Australia

Sometimes it's just nice to lay in the grass and look at the world from a different perspective. The simple pleasures of home so often go overlooked or unseen entirely.