A little about me: First of all, it's pronounced “Lucky”. “Luckie”. That's “Luck-E”. As in “Luckē”. Not “Luukie”, not “Luke”, not “Luck”. However, if you can come up with a pronunciation that I haven't heard in my life, I pay $25. I haven't paid out in over 20 years.
While I have done some [read: very damn little] portrait photography, my main love is capturing the timeless beauty of outdoor & landscapes. I love the outdoors, in any weather... those who know me often voice their wonder (and frequently, their concern) as to how I can survive in frost and snow running around in my typical clothing of shorts, T-shirt & tennis shoes (often without socks!). So far, I still have all my fingers and toes, and none of them have dropped off from frostbite. I've stood in that sort of get-up for hours with my tripod set up waiting for the light on a windy beach or coastal promontory, while others are shivering and loudly bemoaning the cold, all the while being wrapped up like Nanook of The North. I, on the other hand, wonder how they keep from roasting.
Computer-wise, I use Mac computers exclusively in my photographic workflow, and have been a die-hard Apple user since I built the first Apple from a kit, signed by Woz himself, no less. Over the years, I've owned (often several models at a time), the original Apple, an Apple ][, an Apple ][+, an Apple //e, an Apple //c, an Apple //gs (and helped pioneer the hack which allowed its over-clocking to 8 mhz, an unheard of speed at that time), a Mac SE, a Mac IIfx, a Mac IIvx, a Mac LC, a Mac 8600, an APS M*Power 604e200 Mac Clone (yes, Apple allowed clones for a short period of time, before retiring to their anal-retentive marketing strategy of not allowing anyone else to create compatible hardware), a Mac G4 Tower, an iMac G4 20", an iMac G5 20", and now a MacBook Pro 15" i7 Dual Core. I currently have the MacBook Pro, and the iMac G5 (which is set up as a backup and print server).
The ability to learn more quickly from my mistakes with digital start-to-finish, without the costliness of film, developing & printing, makes the job a lot easier. So does having a great mentor.
My mentor is a gentleman I am gratified to call a friend, and who has time and time again traveled with me around the great Pacific Northwest indulging my fantasy of becoming a real photographer. I'm also delighted to apparently have also instilled in him a new desire to get back out for more photos... he frequently tells me that he was becoming complacent and not doing much photography until I started nudging him to help me learn. This 28 year veteran of professional photography's name is Gary Clay, and I am proud to also have designed, set up, and continue to host and maintain his photographic website (after having finally talked him into getting one set up). You can visit his website here. I met Gary at art shows frequently enough (and often being in the next booth or just across an aisle) that not only did we become good friends, we could do each others’ spiel (him for my stained glass stepping stones, me for his photographs) without flaw. 
Gary has been, and taken pictures of, many, many places that I still hope to go. As for me, at present, in addition photographing Northwest scenery and flora (don't mention the fauna, see below), I'm planning a four month trip in 2017 to the British Isles, including England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, to photograph castles and ruins (along with the odd bonnie Scotch lassie), and am hoping to persuade him and his wife to join me, at least for part of the trip. In his mid-seventies, he gets around much like a teenager, and often puts me to shame climbing mountains, hills, and sand dunes. I gladly tag along to eke out a few more scraps of knowledge from one who has been taught by such well known names as Bryan Peterson and others. I really don't mind the shame. It's just that the leaf mould, sand, and twigs that I have to keep scraping off of my tongue after I get my breath back, and coughing the pine needles out of my lungs that I have stripped from surrounding trees with my wheezing, sometimes take a little away from the moment, not to mention scaring wildlife away for three surrounding counties.
Did I mention wildlife? Me? Wildlife photographs? Hah! I wish. Animals of all kinds normally avoid me when I am armed with a camera (unless, of course, the battery happens to be dead or the memory card is full at that moment, then they prance and cavort in front of me at not much more than arm's length). I did far better when I hunted them for real with loud and noisy firearms. Never seemed to bother them. Birds, especially, despise me. Or at least ridicule me mercilessly (but I shouldn't anthropomorphize animals, they hate that). I radiate some sort of electro-magnetic field which they can sense with unerring accuracy that is the exact image-filling shot radius of whatever lens I happen to have on the camera at the time. It doesn't matter if it's a short, wide angle 16-35mm lens or a 600mm telephoto lens with a 2.0x teleconverter. I can get to a spot, see a bird, get the camera ready, focus, and reach for the shutter button. In that split second, the bird flies away with a chortle, a snicker, and a guffaw, and I might be lucky if I get a blurred shot of its feathery butt. I used to say that if you ever saw a good picture of a bird on my site, it was probably taken at a zoo where the damn thing couldn't fly away, and even then it was likely backed to the far corner of the cage or enclosure trying to get away from me (only kidding, of course... I wouldn't use caged animals for sellable shots, that seems as if it's cheating to me). OK, I lied. At that point, I had one... count it, ONE... shot of a wood duck that was reasonable. 
Well, you probably didn't come here to read all this tripe about me, so if you've gotten this far, you're made of sterner stuff than I would anticipate is the norm. You could easily tolerate the Soft Cushions, or perhaps even the Comfy Chair. What's that? You didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition? Of course not! As one of my favorite T-shirts proclaims, “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition”. And now (as John Cleese would definitely say) for something completely different.... A man with a tape recorder up his.... no, no, that's wrong. And now.... It's... [cue Sousa's “Liberty Bell” music].... (and yes, I realize that NONE of that probably makes any sense to any of you who are not die-hard Monty Python's Flying Circus fans... sorrowful lot that ye be.)
(click on the Portfolios link above to see the pretty pictures,
if you haven't figured it out already)
