I almost didn’t bring my camera on this trip.
Between radiation recovery and very limited energy, photography felt like more effort than inspiration—until a Yellowstone bison standing in the winter mist reminded me why I never truly stop seeing.

Finding Beauty in the Storm: Lessons from a Yellowstone Bison

There is a reason my photography business is called Grateful Journeys.

The name didn’t come from a marketing strategy or a branding exercise. It came from life. It came from learning that every day—no matter how easy or difficult—is still a gift. Some days that gift arrives wrapped in sunshine and laughter. Other days it comes wrapped in challenge, uncertainty, and storms.

But it is still a gift.

Photography is one of the ways I live out that gratitude. It allows me to pause long enough to notice the beauty that still exists in the middle of everything.

A deeply rooted passion of mine—whether through my fine art images or my pet photography sessions—is to create experiences where others can step into a joyful moment in time. Whether that moment happens on the back of a horse, alongside beloved pets, or within the rhythm of ranch life, I want people to experience something unforgettable. Moments that feel larger than life itself, yet deeply personal. Moments that remind us just how beautiful life really is.

Over the past few months, my own journey has included a recurring brain tumor and, most recently, six weeks of radiation. Recovery continues, and some days are easier than others. I’ve learned that healing, much like life, rarely moves in straight lines.

Which brings me to this photograph.

I chose a black and white image of a bison standing in the thermal mist of Yellowstone. At first glance, it might seem like an unusual choice to represent gratitude. There’s no vibrant sunset, no colorful wildflowers, no dramatic mountain glow.

Instead, the color has been stripped away.

And yet, there is something beautifully honest about that.

Black and white photography reveals the raw and authentic essence of a moment. Without color, textures become stronger, light becomes more meaningful, and what remains is simply truth.

Now here’s where a little humor enters the story.

The bison happens to be my favorite animal to photograph. They are powerful, resilient creatures that endure some of the harshest conditions imaginable.

And recently, I realized the bison and I might share something in common.

If you look closely, bison only carry thick hair on certain parts of their bodies. The rest can look a little… patchy.

Radiation has given me a somewhat similar hairstyle at the moment.

So you could say we’re both embracing a slightly unconventional look this season.

But humor aside, there is something deeply meaningful about this scene.

In winter, bison often gather near thermal areas because the warmth keeps the ground from freezing completely. That means food is easier to reach. While the rest of the landscape is locked in snow and ice, these areas provide nourishment.

They intentionally seek the place where warmth exists in the middle of winter.

That thought has stayed with me.

Storms come in many forms—illness, uncertainty, grief, exhaustion. And while we can’t always control those storms, we can choose where we go to be nourished within them.

For me, that nourishment has been my faith.

Just as the bison instinctively move toward the thermals in winter, I have found myself drawn closer to God during difficult seasons. Faith has become a place of warmth, strength, and quiet sustenance when life feels cold, stripped away and uncertain.

The mist in this photograph reminds me of that truth.

It holds both storm and beauty at the same time.

Even in the middle of harsh conditions, life continues. Strength continues. Beauty continues.

Sometimes the journey strips away color.

But what remains is something deeper, something more authentic.

I am grateful for the bison’s appearance in this metaphoric landscape not so commonly seen.

You see, I had no intention of taking my camera out on this trip. It simply felt too difficult—an amount of energy and concentration I didn’t feel I had at the time.

But when I saw this scene and what it reflected to me, something shifted.

The mist, the quiet strength of the bison, the resilience of life in winter—it all felt familiar somehow. It reminded me that even in difficult seasons, there is still beauty waiting to be seen.

Sometimes the moments we think we are too tired to capture become the ones that remind us why we keep going.

And for that moment—and for this journey—I am deeply grateful.

Sometimes gratitude isn’t found after the storm—it’s discovered right in the middle of it

Fine Art Print Availability

The image featured in this story is available as a signed fine art print in sizes 16×20 and larger.

If this scene spoke to you the way it did to me, I would be honored to see it live in your home.

Please feel free to reach out through my contact page to inquire about print sizes and availability.