Picture It I See photography

11/26/2025

Remembering just how great my abundance really is this Thanksgiving. Please take the time to read and take the time to share with others.

It happened so long ago that the memories of that place and time are now littered with cobwebs in my mind.
Those memories were part of my past that I cherished as a kid. They lay dormant in my mind for more than 20 years. It was the cold north winds of November and the sight of a faded old red barn that bought them back to life for me.
Heading home for the holidays on the interstate, those memories surged up with in me. Too much and too often, they could not be ignored. Suddenly, I found myself turning off the interstate and heading down a gravel road. It was more than the memories that had me driving 60 miles off course. This year more so than any other, I had to be reminded once again just how great my abundance really is on this Thanksgiving Day.

An hour of driving had me standing alongside a mailbox that once bore my uncle's name. The farmstead he had owned was deserted now. Gnarled weeds and wild animals have taken the place of the people and livestock who previously called it home. All that is left now are the warm recollections of a 50-year-old man who has finally come home again.
My last vivid memory of this place was on Thanksgiving Day when I was 10 years old. There is just something unique about a country farm during the holidays. With generations of relatives filling the house and the aroma of home cooking drifting on the breeze, there was no better place to be. Traditions were made on days such as this.
Back then, money was as scarce as new clothes. Making do with what you had was just a way of life. Milk came from the cow, the turkey was homegrown, and fresh eggs were gathered every day. The grocery store was red in color and called a barn. There were no cable TVs or computers. As boys, we made our own entertainment in the form of slingshots. Plinking at tin cans whiled away many an hour.
Thanksgiving was a time to catch up with people we would see only once a year. It was, as my uncle said, "a time for remembering." Growing up during those times, I thought like most kids did. A promise was a promise - it was something that was kept.
When told to do something, we did it. A little hard work beat a trip to the wood shed any day.
Back then, people seemed to live forever. Old people to us were more than a nuisance - they were a wealth of information.
Remembering was all I could do now as I looked at the tree in the back yard. The men would gather there after the Thanksgiving meal, rubbing their sides. They would brag about the cooking. Pipes were lit, and stories were told of hunting and fishing. Some were full of truth, and some full of lies. I guess back then, they weren't really lies - they were more like whoppers where the truth was stretched just a bit.
Then, I remembered something that wasn't so pleasant. It was news that came from my father. "It's become too crowded here," he said. "Next year, we start having Thanksgiving in town at grandma's."
In that single moment, my life surrounding holidays changed forever.
I still saw relatives, but not all together like on my uncle's farm. Grandma lived on Main Street in town, and slingshots became too dangerous to shoot there. Suddenly, I found myself bored. There were no chores to do, so the smells of fresh hay and livestock became strangers to my senses. They faded, much as my memories have of this old place.
A neighbor's dog barking down the road slowly brought me back to the present. I found myself with my arm draped over the mailbox, stroking it much like you would an old dog.
Through the screen of weeds and barbed wire, I saw my car parked where I'd left it along the bream of the road, and I told myself that I was going to have to leave these memories once again. Getting into my car, I was sorry that people were `missing from my uncle's farm. It seemed to be almost like losing a drop of native blood.
Late for dinner, I walked into my cousin's house two hours later. I quickly noticed the absence of young children. It was full of adults and teenagers who seemed bored. The traditions
mainly with the food we ate. There was no tree in the backyard for the men to gather around and share their stories. Dishwashers have replaced the wives' and daughters' chatting while they washed the dishes by hand.
With dinner over and a full belly, I walked outside and sat on the porch. I sat there alone, thinking about the day's events when the words of Frederick Buckner came to mind. He wrote: "Listen to your life, see it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness; touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis, all moments are key moments and life itself is grace."

By Joel David Schwader

11/24/2025

Coyotes are everywhere in Wind Cave National Park. The mama coyotes are dispersing their young to go be out on their own. They are young and dumb, but learning fast the ways of the wild.

11/23/2025

It was still an hour away from sunrise. I was In Custer State Park when I came across this Buffalo. I wanted to take a picture of him standing in the fog in the worst way. However, it was too dark. My camera would not pick up the buffalo. They’re just simply wasn’t enough Light. It was then I got a bit of inspiration. I drove my vehicle out into the prairie dog town and shown my headlights up upon the buffalo. I then got out of my vehicle ran out in front of the buffalo took several pictures. I adjusted the lighting the best I could with my camera, and this was the end result. Sometimes you have to learn to think outside the box. If you enjoy this picture, please share it. The whole past week the weather’s been warm the buffalo and the Elk have been out roaming and the coyotes. if anyone is interested in purchasing this print, here is the link. Click on open in browser View my photo at https://joelschwader.smugmug.com/Buffalo/i-fMSsdBP

11/23/2025

https://youtu.be/puVSqFoF-ao

I wrote this poem About my first kiss. Every time I listen to it I get that funny feeling down in a pit of my stomach like butterflies. When I listen to this, I feel young so incredibly young and so alive. I hope you all enjoy it. Take the time to listen you’ll be glad you did.

by no means do I intend to infringe on any copyrights. No money is or will be made from the video

11/23/2025

This past week I became friends with this young coyote pup. I was in Wind Cave National park. This coyote had absolutely no fear of me whatsoever. I walked up close enough to him that I could’ve spit on him and he just laid there watching me take his picture. It was a great day to be me.

11/22/2025

I was lost on a gravel road, out in the middle of nowhere, yet I reassured myself that this road must lead somewhere. Indeed, it did – to her. She was getting the mail, and I pulled up beside her. I asked for directions and wanted to know where I was. She smiled softly and said, 'Boy, you are here, right here with me.' She chuckled and mentioned that the blacktop I was searching for was two miles down the road, and that road would take me where I needed to go. I then asked her where the road I was on led, and she replied, 'Nowhere.' I shook my head, reiterating 'nowhere,' and she confirmed, stating that I should know, having lived on this ranch all my life. I was born and raised here, and here is where I will die, but what a life it has been. She leaned on the fence post and began reminiscing about a life well-lived, filled with love, laughter, and adventure. She discussed attending a country school and the joys and challenges that came with it. She then got married, had three children, and emphasized that ranching is not an easy life but it is a labor of love. The unpredictable weather and fluctuating cattle market filled her with worries, but she persevered, and her family thrived. Would they have enough money at the end of the year to sustain themselves? She had often wondered if a better life awaited her at the end of the road. Her 20s and 30s passed quickly, and by her 40s, life had become relatively calm, but still challenging. The children left home, started their own lives, and her 50s felt like a new beginning with just her husband. Now, in her 60s, her grandchildren fill the cracks of her broken dreams, and she was grateful for every moment. She acknowledged that she knew what lay ahead – old age and eventually death – but she was at peace, knowing that she had lived a life of purpose and meaning. She let out a deep sigh, looked at me, and asked what I was doing lost on this country road. I explained that I was a freelance photographer, capturing fragments of my life, soul, and connection to the land, the world, and Mother Earth, and she smiled, knowing that our paths had crossed for a reason. I never make plans on where I'm going to go or what I'm going to see. I just turned onto a gravel road, knowing that eventually, I'll find what I'm looking for. Today, I found her, full of hope, love, and compassion. She had a connection to the land, just like I do. I could feel it illuminating in her like a beacon in the night. Sometimes getting lost in life isn’t always a bad thing. I always seem to find some thing or some person that makes me stop and think am I really lost or is it just the world that’s become lost and confused.

11/21/2025

What happened to me on the prairies of Wind Cave National park yesterday morning was nothing short of a miracle. Pictures to follow in the coming days. STAY TUNNED!!!

11/19/2025

It was the first week of November I was out by Cewlew Lake. Something kept calling to me deep inside. It seemed to be the long lost spirit of a young boy. I pulled up to the lake shore then I got out and started walking. The smell of mother Earth was pungent in the dead leaves and the muddy waters. I was walking along the shoreline, looking for something. I wasn’t really sure I was looking for. It was then they appeared like a ghost of a long lost memory. The single pair of tracks in the mud were undeniably made by a mink. All the years, all the time spent tracking Mink as a young boy of 12 seemed to disappear. I suddenly felt young again. The pain in my joints seemed to disappear and the thirst for knowledge about these animals that trappers called a Slew-foot swelled up inside me. I spent my childhood as I got older trapping mink. It was away for me to make money and enjoy the outdoors and make that connection with mother Earth. Somehow through some 40 years of growing old that connection at times seemed to fade in my advancing years. I didn’t follow the tracks for long because I knew what I had to do. I drove back to Rapid City. I went online and bought me a bottle of mink lure. It was the kind of lure trappers used to call a mink closer to his trap. However, my purpose was not for wanting to trap these animals. I wanted to take their picture. The following week I went back out to the shoreline where I saw the mink tracks earlier. I got out the bottle of lure, I poked a stick down into the bottle and stuck it down in the mud in the grass and then I left. I repeated this motion for two more mornings reluring the stick then put it back down in the exact same spot. On the third day I got up before sunrise and I perched myself laying on the bank of the lake. I was laying on my stomach. I had a small bag of straw, I used has a pillow. I laid their cold and damp, waiting for that mink to appear. I knew he would because I could tell by the tracks in the mud he found my stick. He walked around the clump of grass over and over again wondering what that odor was. It was just a waiting game between he and I. I wasn’t exactly sure how long I laid there. I left my cell phone in my van. I did not want any distraction. Hours past, my body was so stiff and sore, I could hardly move. It was then I saw him from a distance coming down the shoreline, looping the way mink do when they run. A flood of memories ran through my mind for a brief moment I was young again and I was free. I had no bills to pay, no worries.
I smiled with anticipation as the mink grew closer and closer. Finally, I thought he was close enough. I snapped a few pictures. He froze. He looked startled, and then he disappeared into the tall grass. I tried to get up my back was so sore from laying on my stomach I could hardly move. Suddenly the days of my youth those carefree days disappeared and this tired old man was now trying to find ways to stand up. When I finally did stand up the ache in my knees and my back reassured me I was no longer dreaming, but I was back to reality. I walked to my van and stood alongside it. I took deep breaths, taking in that smell of mother nature, the damp grass and leaves, and I remembered everything I possibly could. My connection here to nature to the wild things that inhabit the outdoors, It was still alive, and I proved it this morning. Under a pile of bills and the struggle to survive this young boy of yesterday was still kicking around inside me. Tears weld up in me as I pounded on my chest and softly spoke the words I am here, I am here. I drove back to Rapid City thinking about my connection to all things wild, to all things born free, and how they have became such a large part of who I am and what I feel. Somehow, through the years of growing up that connection was lost from time to time. However, on this cold November day, it was alive and well and it spoke out loud to me when I pounded on my chest and spoke the words I am here. I am here.

11/17/2025

If you follow my page and consider me your friend you might learn a thing or two about me by reading this.

My mom, she was the glue that held us together as a family. She was traditions and love and respect and honor all rolled into one. When she died, the part of us that was a family died with her. I love my children, but to be honest, they can’t stand to be around one another, and they use the excuse Im busy to avoid doing things as a family. In today’s world, it’s all about me the world has become self-centered  and no one wants to make time for anyone else because we’re just too busy. Think about that for a minute, a long hard minute and ask yourself why are you too busy? You’re too busy working, you’re too busy shopping. You’re too busy cleaning, you’re too busy just trying to get through the day to think about hanging around family which should be the first priority in life has become the last. Like I said we become a world that is self-centered and it’s all about me. You see I don’t have a life and I can’t use that excuse that I’m too busy. I can’t work for a living other than doing my photography so I have no job to go to, I have no friends at work that I hang with. I have free time, but most importantly I have time that I always make for others. I guess I’m glad things worked out the way they did in life. I always thought my accident and my severe head trauma was always a curse but in reality if I look back at it. I see it as a blessing. I don’t have good balance. I don’t have a lot of money. I don’t have a lot of friends. One thing I do have is time and if I don’t have time I make time for what’s important my family and my friends. I guess that’s what makes it so hard for me to understand why people struggle with making time for whats really important in life. When someone says we’re too busy or we don’t have time, do they understand what they’re actually saying to you? They are saying that you’re not important that I won’t and I can’t make time for you. They just look at you and say it’s just the way it is learn to deal with it. I had lunch with my son and daughter-in-law the other day it was the first time I sat down with both of them in a restaurant in years. I have a six-year-old grandson that I’ve never gotten to take to a restaurant. I’ve never got to take him to a jumpy castle or a playground. I’ve never done things alone with just him and I. I have older friends, my own age who you would think would understand the importance being a friend. Talking to somebody over the telephone once or twice a week that’s easy to do try being a friend that wants to spend time with you face-to-face and have a conversation face-to-face sit and have a beer with you or sit and just talk about life that’s the hard part about being a friend. I have a ton of friends that I can call and talk to on the phone anytime but I have very few of any friends who can find the time to go have that beer or go have lunch or just go do something fun together. So these days I try to forget about all that and I tell myself that it’s OK. I jump in my van and I drive out on the prairie by myself and I converse with nature, I converse with the animals, trees, the old buildings, the sky, and in there own way, they talk back to me and they become my friends the friends I don’t have in real life. They become my family, the family I once had. I talked to my van like it’s a long lost friend. I greet it every morning when I get inside and say what kind of adventure are we going on today? I’m a loner society and the world and my family has made me that way. I guess I’ll take being a loaner any day of the week. It sure beats getting your feeling hurt week after week hearing those hurtful words from people you love and respect that I’m just too busy.

11/17/2025

Make your holiday greetings to friends and family something special this year. Create your own Christmas card with photographs from my website. https://joelschwader.smugmug.com/
click on a picture you like, click buy and a option will appear on the left-hand side of the screen. Click on greeting cards. It’s very simple, very quick. You get 25 cards and envelopes. Make Christmas special this year with Christmas cards from picture it I see photography. 

11/16/2025

During the fall months sunrise on the Badlands can look 100 different ways in 100 different spots. This has been an incredible fall that lasted so long with warm weather and beautiful fall colors from the Badlands to the Cottonwood trees to the parks in town it’s been a season to remember

11/15/2025

I could write 1000 more stories in my lifetime and yet nothing will ever be as profound as what I wrote right here years ago.

It's a feeling that never goes away - one I never outgrew and never forgot. It shines gently like a candle in the pages of his mind. That feeling is home.
At night across the prairie, darkness would fall and the wind would sweep down from the north. The wild things with their shiny eyes came to the edge of the farmyard. It was then that our house seemed like an island of light and love in a sea of darkness. At such an hour, the word home must have come into being - conceived by some creature that never knew a home. In his yearning, there must have come to mind the vision of a mother's face and a father's deep voice along with the smell of fresh-baked bread, sunshine in the window and the muted sound of rain on a roof.
Inside me there exists an image of a child of 7. He is nestled safe and warm under a down-filled quilt listening to the sounds of his world coming to life. The window to his room is open, and the air is chilled and filled with the fragrance of the night's summer rain. His eyes peer over the top of his quilt, and he watches in earnest. His room is brought to life by the light of the morning sun as it creeps slowly inside his
World. Alone, he listens to the footsteps of his sister as she passes outside his door and walks slowly down the wooden steps to the kitchen. He cuddles deeper into his bed and listens once again. The sounds of the kitchen are like music to his ears. The clattering of pots and pans and the deep baritone voice of his father reminds him that food is being prepared. Hunger rouses, him from his bed. His warm feet touching the cold wooden floor awaken his senses even more.
He gathers his thoughts along with his clothes and scrambles down the stairs. Bursting into the kitchen, he is meet with warm smiles and a feeling that this is home. Nearly every breath he has taken in his childhood still lingers somewhere in that house. There are memories so firmly imbedded in his mind that he will never forget them. I feel grateful that these memories belong to me. They have nourished me through trials and tribulations.
In the past, I saw home as where my family dwelled. I saw home as the place that contained my childhood, what I could remember and all I had forgotten.
A house is more than walls and floors, ceilings and a roof. It's all the words that were spoken there, all the cries and whispers, all the good times and the bad. Home is the feeling of spirit and the knowing of your soul.
In my travels through life, I have journeyed down many roads searching and abiding in houses built of brick and wood, houses that were big and small, and some that were cold and empty.
It wasn't until my last trip back home that I finally realized what I had been looking for has never really left me. When I stood in front of the old house, it seemed smaller than I remembered - mainly because I have grown and, in my mind, so too have my memories. In the backyard, a shallow hollow is all that is left of the tree that once held our tire swing. Cobwebs and dust have laid claim to our old weathered house that sits empty now. The ghostly laughter of children playing are all that remain of the family that once called it home.
Through out my life, I felt alienated to the world and the people in it. It is then that I call on my memory of home and the spirit and the knowing of my soul to take him back once again.
There, the stress of today’s world disappears and I can feel sheltered again. Family surrounds him there. Mother, father, sister, brother, we are whole again. The table is set and they gather together. Grace is said, and laughter is heard once again in my life. Today, in memory, I stand before that old gray house not as a child but as a man. It is that man who has come to realize that I can go home again in a much deeper way than I ever believed possible.

Joel David Schwader