Anthurium in Bloom: Tropical Architecture Up Close

Pink. Glossy. Unmistakable.

The Anthurium is one of those flowers that looks almost too perfect to be real, like something designed in a studio rather than grown in soil. But here it is, in full bloom, doing exactly what it was built to do.

What you’re looking at is technically not a petal. That heart-shaped, waxy structure is called a spathe, a modified leaf whose job is to draw attention to the finger-like spadix rising from its centre. The tiny bumps on the spadix are where the actual flowers are. Understated, functional, and quietly brilliant.

Anthurium are native to tropical rainforests of Central and South America, and they thrive in warmth and humidity. In cultivation, they’ve become a favourite of interior designers and photographers alike, and it’s easy to see why.

Next time you pass one, take a closer look. Nature rarely wastes a line.

 

Earth Day 2026: One Planet, Three Continents

Earth Day looks different depending on where you're standing.

I've been thinking about that a lot this week. I grew up in Eugene, Oregon, surrounded by old-growth forest, winter fog, waterfalls you could hear before you could see them, and the particular smell of wet moss that still, to this day, immediately transports me home. Then I spent 22 years in Okinawa, Japan, where I learned to scuba dive and discovered that what's happening below the surface of the ocean is at least as extraordinary as anything above it. Now I live in Kigali, Rwanda, where I regularly encounter things through a camera lens that I still haven't entirely processed.

For Earth Day, I wanted to share six photographs from across those three chapters. They weren't chosen to be a "best of," they were chosen because each one reminded me that this planet is worth paying attention to.

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Caption: Proxy Falls, Oregon Cascades — Nikon D7200 | Tokina 11-16mm f/2.8

This is Proxy Falls, somewhere deep in the Oregon Cascades. I grew up near places like this. I hiked through forests like this on weekends as a kid without really understanding what I was looking at. It took leaving, 22 years in Japan, and now Africa, to appreciate what the Pacific Northwest actually is. There is nowhere else on Earth quite like it, and I don't think I knew that until I was gone long enough to miss it.

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Caption: Cape Perpetua Overlook, Oregon Coast — Nikon D7200 | Nikkor 18-200mm f/11

The Oregon Coast in summer marine layer. The forest runs right to the edge of the cliff, then drops into the ocean. I've stood at this overlook dozens of times, and it never looks the same twice. The fog does something to the light that I've never quite managed to fully capture; this comes close.

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Caption: Kerama Islands, Okinawa, Japan — Nikon D7200 | Nikkor 18-200mm f/11 | Panoramic stitch

The water in the Kerama Islands is genuinely this color. No filter, no adjustment beyond what I'd apply to any raw file. I moved to Okinawa not knowing much about it, and within a few years, it had fundamentally rearranged my sense of what "beautiful" meant. Learning to dive here changed everything. It opened up a second world, one that most people never see, existing right below the surface of that turquoise water.

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Caption: Tomato Clownfish, Okinawa coral reef — Underwater dive shot

This is a tomato clownfish tucked into its anemone. I took this on a dive in Okinawa. The reef looked healthy that day. Parts of it still are. But I've watched the same reefs I dove ten years ago bleach and recover and bleach again, and I am aware, every time I'm underwater, that I'm looking at something that is not guaranteed to be there in the same form for the following generations. That awareness doesn't make it less beautiful. If anything, it makes it more so.

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Caption: L'Hoest's Monkey, Nyungwe Forest, Rwanda — Nikon Z6 | Nikkor 24-200mm f/4

Nyungwe Forest in southwestern Rwanda is one of the oldest montane rainforests in Africa. I spotted this L'Hoest's monkey in the canopy on a morning walk. It looked at me for a long moment, one of those moments where you feel briefly, genuinely assessed and then moved on. I think about that moment more than I'd expect. There's something about being looked at by a wild animal that recalibrates things.

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Caption: Plains Zebra, Akagera National Park, Rwanda — Nikon Z6 | Nikkor 24-200mm f/4

Akagera National Park in eastern Rwanda is a genuine conservation success story. Lions were reintroduced in 2015, black rhinos in 2017. The park, which had been heavily impacted by the aftermath of the 1994 genocide, has been systematically restored over the past decade. This zebra, standing in golden savanna grass at the edge of the park, didn't seem particularly burdened by any of that history. I appreciated its perspective.

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Three continents. Very different ecosystems. The same conclusion every time I raise a camera: there is so much here worth protecting.

Happy Earth Day.

All photos © 2026. Shot on Nikon Z6 and Nikon D7200. If you'd like to see more from Oregon, Okinawa, or Rwanda, follow along on Facebook, Instagram, VERO, Bluesky, X, Mastodon, or Pixelfed.

One Year in Rwanda: Welcoming the Rainy Season Again

April has a way of announcing itself in Rwanda without subtlety. The skies grow heavier, the air thickens, and before long, the rain begins to fall, steady, persistent, and sometimes overwhelming. The rainy season is here again.

There’s something transformative about this time of year. The hills seem greener, almost impossibly lush, as if the country itself is being renewed. Roads can turn muddy, plans can change at the last minute, and the rhythm of daily life adjusts to the sound of rain on rooftops. It’s a season that demands flexibility. You learn quickly to carry an umbrella, to leave earlier than usual, and to accept that sometimes the weather will simply have the final say.

The rainy season also reveals a different side of Rwanda. Markets continue to bustle, children still find ways to play, and life moves forward with a kind of quiet resilience. There’s a beauty in that, how people adapt, how routines shift but don’t break. The rain becomes less of an inconvenience and more of a backdrop, something woven into daily life rather than disrupting it.

It feels especially meaningful this year because it’s almost been a full year since I moved from Japan to Rwanda. That realization is hard to grasp. A year ago, everything felt unfamiliar: a new climate, new routines, new ways of doing things. Now, many of those once-strange details have become part of my normal life.

I’ve gradually gotten used to the weather, including these long stretches of rain. I’ve adjusted to the pace of life here, which feels different from Japan in ways that are both challenging and refreshing. The food, once unfamiliar, has become something I look forward to. Even the language, which initially felt like a barrier, is becoming something I can navigate more comfortably day by day.

The culture and the people have also become more familiar over time. There’s a warmth here that stands out, a sense of community that reveals itself in small, everyday interactions. And perhaps most importantly, I’ve been fortunate to build connections along the way. Finding friends within the Japanese expat community has made a big difference, offering both a sense of home and a shared understanding of what it means to live between cultures.

Looking back, this past year feels like a gradual process of settling in, not all at once, but piece by piece. The rainy season feels like a fitting symbol of that journey. At first, it can seem overwhelming, even inconvenient. But over time, you learn how to live with it, how to move through it, and eventually, how to appreciate it.

As the rain continues to fall this April, I find myself reflecting not just on the season but on the year behind me. What once felt new is now familiar. What once felt uncertain is now part of daily life. And in the steady rhythm of the rain, there’s a quiet reminder of how much can change in a year.

Orchids & Uninvited Guests in Kigali, Rwanda

 

I was drawn in by the color first that almost electric magenta against the out-of-focus green of the surrounding foliage. The Nikon D7200 with the 105mm Nikkor macro is genuinely one of my favorite combinations for this kind of work: the rendering is clean, the background separation is beautiful, and you get just enough working distance to avoid disturbing what you're shooting.

It wasn't until I was reviewing images on the computer that I noticed the ant. A tiny dark ant, completely unbothered, tucked right against one of the deep maroon buds.

Those are the frames that stay with you.

Camera: Nikon D7200 · Lens: Nikkor F 105mm Macro · Location: Kigali, Rwanda

Portfolio Day 2026: From the Savanna to the Streets of Kigali

Today marks #PortfolioDay, and I’m excited to share a gallery of my latest work. Being a professional photographer in Rwanda provides a unique canvas. This collection showcases the technical discipline of my wildlife work, highlighted by a recent Plains Zebra study, alongside the vibrant, fast-moving energy of professional events and birdwatching in Kigali.

• Using the Nikon Z6 and a range of Nikkor lenses, I aim to bring the viewer closer to the beauty of East Africa. Check out the full gallery below

Plumbago in Kigali, When Common Becomes Invisible

There's a phenomenon familiar to anyone who has lived in the same place for a while: you stop seeing it. The details that struck you as remarkable when you first arrived become background noise.

Plumbago (Plumbago auriculata) is one of those things for me in Kigali. The pale blue-white flower clusters grow everywhere in this city, spilling over garden walls, lining public paths, brightening courtyards. I have walked past hundreds of these plants without registering them.

This week, with the Nikon D7200 and Macro 105mm in hand, I stopped.

The Shot

Late afternoon light was coming in at a low angle, creating warm separation between the flower cluster and the dark green background. I worked through several focal points before settling on the primary cluster, letting the single flower at lower right sit slightly soft as a secondary element.

The Plant

Plumbago auriculata is native to South Africa but grows throughout tropical and subtropical regions worldwide. The common name comes from the Latin plumbum (lead). One theory holds that the plant was once thought to cure lead poisoning. The sticky calyxes visible in the image are a defense adaptation rather than a pollination mechanism.

It's a plant worth looking at. I'm sorry it took me this long.

📷 Nikon D7200 | Nikkor Macro 105mm | Natural light | Kigali, Rwanda

#Photography #FlowerPhotography #MacroPhotography #Rwanda #Kigali #NaturePhotography #Botany #Plumbago #NikonZ6 #TravelPhotography

Did Someone Steal My Fuel in Kigali?

Last night, I experienced something that left me confused, frustrated, and, honestly, a bit uneasy.

I live in Vision City here in Kigali, a place known for having relatively strong security. That’s part of why what happened feels so strange.

What Happened

Yesterday, my car was showing about 3 bars of fuel remaining, with an estimated range of over 100 km. The day before, it had shown around 82 km remaining, so everything seemed normal.

Throughout the day, I drove only a short distance, no more than 10–20 km total.

Nothing unusual.

But this morning, when I started the car, I was shocked.

The display suddenly showed:

• Less than 8 km remaining

• A low fuel warning

That’s an extreme drop overnight, far beyond what normal driving or fuel consumption would explain.

My Immediate Reaction

My first thought was:

“Was my fuel stolen?”

With rising fuel prices and the ongoing gas and oil situation, it’s not impossible. Still, given the security where I live, it feels unlikely, but not impossible.

Unfortunately, in my frustration and urgency (not wanting to risk getting stranded), I immediately went to refuel. I didn’t take photos or document the situation beforehand, which now makes it harder to prove anything definitively.

Trying to Make Sense of It

Since then, I’ve been thinking through the possibilities:

1. Fuel Theft

This was my initial concern. If someone siphoned fuel during the night, it could explain the sudden drop. However, I didn’t notice any obvious signs of tampering.

2. Sensor or System Error

Modern vehicles calculate “range remaining” dynamically based on recent driving behavior, terrain, and fuel efficiency. It’s possible the system recalculated suddenly and inaccurately.

3. Mechanical Issue

A leak or fuel system issue could also cause unexpected loss, though I haven’t seen or smelled any signs of this yet.

A Missed Opportunity for Evidence

Looking back, I wish I had:

• Taken photos of the dashboard

• Checked for physical signs around the fuel cap

• Reported it immediately to security

Without that, it becomes a situation of uncertainty rather than proof.

Moving Forward

For now, I’m taking a more careful approach:

• Monitoring fuel levels closely after refueling

• Tracking distance driven vs. fuel usage

• Paying attention to any repeated irregularities

If it happens again, I’ll document everything immediately and check with local security about possible CCTV footage.

Final Thoughts

Whether this was a technical glitch or something more concerning, it’s a reminder of how dependent we are on systems we don’t always fully understand, and how quickly trust in them can be shaken.

Has anyone else experienced something like this?

I’d be very interested to hear if others, especially here in Kigali or with similar vehicles, have noticed anything unusual with fuel readings or security-related concerns.

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If you’re reading this and have insights or similar experiences, feel free to share. Sometimes the best clarity comes from comparing notes.

🌕 A Lunar Eclipse, A New Space Age, and the Nikon Connection

In September 2025, I stood under the night sky in Kigali and captured a moment that felt both timeless and fleeting, a lunar eclipse slowly unfolding above.

That night reminded me of why I fell in love with photography in the first place.

👉 View the photo here:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/mlyon/54775010752/in/dateposted-public/

There’s something deeply humbling about photographing celestial events. You’re not just taking a picture, you’re witnessing orbital mechanics, light, and time itself playing out in real-time.

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🚀 Watching History: Artemis II

Fast forward to today, and that same sense of wonder has come rushing back as I follow the Artemis II mission led by NASA.

For the first time in over 50 years, humans are traveling beyond low Earth orbit toward the Moon again. Artemis II launched on April 1, 2026, carrying four astronauts on a journey around the Moon and back to Earth.

This mission isn’t about landing, yet. It’s about proving that we can safely send humans deeper into space again, testing life support systems, navigation, and spacecraft performance in a true deep-space environment.

We’re witnessing the beginning of a new chapter in space exploration, one that will eventually lead to sustained lunar missions and, ultimately, Mars.

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📷 Nikon in Space (Yes, Really)

As a photographer, one detail makes this even more exciting for me:

Nikon cameras are being used in space.

The Artemis II mission includes imaging systems, among them cameras from Nikon, tasked with documenting everything from life aboard the spacecraft to views of Earth and the Moon.

That’s something I genuinely love.

There’s a special connection in knowing that the same brand I use on Earth is also being trusted to document humanity’s return to deep space. It’s a reminder that photography, whether from your backyard or from lunar orbit, is about storytelling.

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🌌 From a Backyard Eclipse to Lunar Orbit

When I look back at my lunar eclipse photo now, it feels different.

At the time, it was a quiet, personal moment, just me, my camera, and the Moon.

But today, that same Moon is being observed up close again by astronauts, cameras, and instruments pushing the boundaries of human exploration.

There’s a powerful connection between these two perspectives:

• A photographer on Earth capturing reflected sunlight during an eclipse

• Astronauts in deep space capturing the Moon directly

Both are part of the same story.

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✨ Why This Moment Matters

We’re living in a time where space exploration is no longer just history; it’s happening again, right now.

The Artemis program represents more than technology. It represents curiosity, collaboration, and the human desire to explore.

And as photographers, we play a small but meaningful role in that story:

We capture the sky, the moments, and the inspiration that connects people to something bigger than themselves.

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📸 Prints & Closing Thoughts

To celebrate this moment and the inspiration behind it, I’m offering 10% off prints of my lunar eclipse photo.

👉 View and purchase the print here:

https://mlyonphotography.darkroom.com/products/1804422

Use code: LUNAR2026

Whether you’re a space enthusiast, a fellow photographer, or someone who simply loves the night sky, I hope this image brings you the same sense of wonder I felt capturing it.

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🌙 Final Thought

From a quiet night in Rwanda to astronauts orbiting the Moon…

We’re all looking up at the same sky.

And right now, that sky is more exciting than ever.

Happy Easter! A Time for Hope, Joy & New Beginnings 🌷

Easter arrives each year like a breath of fresh spring air, full of color, warmth, and the gentle promise that things can begin again.

Whether you celebrate Easter as a deeply spiritual occasion, a beloved family tradition, or simply a welcome excuse to gather around a table with people you love, the spirit of the day is universal: hope is real, renewal is possible, and joy is worth sharing.

🐣 The Wonder of Easter Morning

There's something magical about Easter Sunday. Maybe it's the pastel colors and chocolate eggs. Maybe it's the way families come together, children squealing with delight during egg hunts, kitchens fragrant with baking, tables set with care. Or maybe it's the deeper, quieter truth at the heart of the day: that after every winter, spring comes.

🌸 A Season of Renewal

Spring is nature's most persuasive argument for optimism. Trees that stood bare for months are suddenly alive with blossoms. Birds return. Days stretch longer. The world, quite literally, comes back to life.

Easter falls at the perfect moment, right when the earth is reminding us that darkness doesn't have the final word.

Whatever your winter has looked like, in your life, your work, or your heart, this is an invitation to look toward the light.

💛 Wishing You a Joyful Easter

From my corner of the world to yours: Happy Easter! May your day be filled with laughter, good food, the company of people you love, and a quiet moment to appreciate the beauty of this season.

And yes, may you find the good chocolate. 🍫

-With warmth and Easter wishes ✨