There’s a certain comfort in the familiar, which is probably why it took me eight months to finally say goodbye to my Nikon gear. Even though I knew the Leica Q2 would be my next and only camera, the thought of change felt daunting after two decades of Nikon. Looking back, I used my D500 more during those last months than I had in years, a fitting farewell before fully committing to a simpler, more intentional kit. This post isn’t about a review; it’s a capstone to my Nikon era—filled with images that capture the everyday moments as much as the highlights.

After parting ways with the Fuji X100V, my search for the perfect camera led me down several paths before landing on the Leica Q2. A winter storm and some unexpected time off provided the perfect opportunity to test it out, side-by-side with my trusted Nikon D500. From the first shot, the Q2 felt like a revelation—its build, image quality, and simplicity reigniting my creative drive. Though it took eight months to officially make the switch, I eventually sold all my Nikon gear and committed to the Q2 Reporter. No regrets. The Q2 has become my only camera, and it’s a change I’m glad I made.

After years of familiar routines and predictable steps, I found myself at a crossroads, ready to take a leap into something different. This new path is less about following a set plan and more about exploring new possibilities, one step at a time. It’s a shift in direction that feels right, even if it means embracing the unknown.

As the trip wrapped up, we soaked in the last bit of Atlanta’s energy before heading home. From unexpected finds to familiar sights, the city delivered a mix of moments that made the journey worthwhile. This final leg was a reminder of the value in exploring, even if it’s just a few days away, and taking in the details that make each place unique.

With a full stomach and a few hours to spare, we set out to explore more of Atlanta’s downtown. We meandered through Centennial Park, taking in the city’s mix of history and modern energy, and I couldn’t resist capturing a few shots along the way. Between the afternoon heat and the buzz of the city, the day felt like a blend of work and discovery—a pace that suited our first day in town perfectly.

This trip recap will be a little different—rather than one long story, I’m breaking it into parts, capturing moments from my journey to Atlanta. Starting with a 3:45 AM wake-up call, I navigated the quiet San Antonio airport before touching down in a city far greener than the drought-ridden landscape back home. Day one brought the usual travel quirks, from jostling through airport crowds to grabbing an impromptu breakfast at Apache XLR, where live jazz and chicken and waffles stole the show. Here’s the first leg of a quick but memorable few days in Atlanta.

Just after my birthday, Sarah and I took an early hike through the Texas Hill Country, following familiar trails along the Guadalupe River. Thanks to recent rain, the river was higher than I’d seen in years, a rare sight for a Texas summer marked by relentless heat. Even with the sun bearing down, we enjoyed a quiet hour of exploring, winding from the riverbank up into the dry creek beds and hillside. The Hill Country, even in its scorching season, has a way of rewarding those who seek it out.

Sometimes work trips have their perks, especially when they take you to a place like Shiner, Texas. This time around, I got to mix business with a bit of fun, stopping first at Bedrock Truck Beds to check out some impressive builds, then heading over to Spoetzl Brewery—the home of Shiner beer—for a look behind the scenes. Armed with my Leica Q2, I captured the day as I went, blending snapshots of Texas craftsmanship with a few moments of downtime. Not a typical workday, but one I’m glad I made time for.

After a complete database meltdown and countless failed attempts at recovery, I finally threw in the towel on my old website. Frustrations with outdated platforms and overpriced tools led me to start fresh on Squarespace, a change that feels long overdue. It’s strange moving on from the setup I’d used for years, but sometimes you need a clean slate. Here’s to a new start, a simpler approach, and the first of many random entries to come.

A random series of images captured while on a Sunday morning hike last October.

I do not always travel for work, but when I do, it tends to be fun. Quick trip to Quincy, Illinois courtesy of Knapheide. Cameras were not allowed in the Knapheide facilities; thus all of the images were taken while on the move.

A week after my last hike, curiosity—and a bit of concern—pulled me back outside to see how the relentless heat and drought were impacting the landscape. Instead of the usual trails, I dropped into a dry creek bed, hoping to find signs of life clinging on. Surprisingly, in the few remaining pools, life persisted—frogs, fish, and even a few snakes in the dammed-up sections. With the heat climbing fast, I didn’t linger long, but I did manage to capture a few moments of resilience amidst the dry spell.

Last week—though at this point, it could’ve been any day in this relentless July—I managed to escape to the trails for a couple of hours. Even in the early morning, the Texas heat was relentless, but the shaded paths provided a bit of relief. The hike was a refreshing break, despite the reminder of just how harsh this summer has been on the landscape. Creeks were reduced to puddles, and the Guadalupe River was lower than I’d ever seen. Here’s hoping for rain, though I’m not counting on anything gentle when it finally comes.

Port Aransas isn’t just a destination; it’s a reminder of everything that feels right when life slows down. Between the beach walks, unplanned stops, and the town’s familiar, salty charm, this trip was less about getting away and more about getting back to basics.

When an arctic blast hit Texas, life as we knew it froze over. In a state built for sunshine, the snowstorm brought more than just record lows; it upended routines, tested patience, and forced everyone to find resilience in unexpected ways. Snowpocalypse Now is a look back at a time when heat, water, and comfort were anything but guaranteed—and how, through it all, we found connection and humor in the icy aftermath.

It doesn’t get anymore random than this.