Documenting the relationship
between people, nature and place.

This mornings snowfall didn’t alter those that live in the alternative universe of an endless summer on Long Island South Shore.

People sometimes ask if I ever get bored: the same walk, the same views, the same dunes, the same lighthouse. The truth is, I don’t.

The heart of the park is the Connetquot River itself — fed by quiet tributaries, marsh flats, and shadowed wetlands. Trails roll from sandy carriage roads to tight footpaths knotted with roots and planked crossings that skip over wet ground.

Every tree tells the story. Pitch pines lean in permanent agreement, their branches swept eastward like brushstrokes pulled by an unseen hand.