Acadia is not the biggest national park, but for sheer variety, it has a lot to offer: great hiking, mountains, oceanfront scenery, with ponds and rivers galore.
The park helped me appreciate the benefits of Canon’s lighter mirrorless kit. When you’re hiking up and down mountains, the portability of the EOS M series was definitely a benefit. And the image quality never suffers.
It’s a shame Canon discontinued the M series. With the R series, cameras got bigger, lenses got bigger, and apart from a few of the APS-C and point-and-shoot bodies, there’s nothing like the M series in the lineup anymore. Trips like this highlight the need for a smaller kit.
We worked our way around the park and by mid-day, we finished up and headed into Bar Harbor, Maine, for dinner.
After leaving Canada by way of New Brunswich and the border, we landed in Brooklin, Maine, our home for the next week.
We arrived at nightfall, so we had no glimpse of the peninsula where we sat.
Not until I got up early the first day and went to the beach.
This was the Maine I remember. And for that first morning, I had it all to myself.
I did what I always tend to do and went exploring – up and down the coastline, through the set of cabins on this part of the shore, taking advantage of the early morning light.
Then the family woke up, and we explored the jagged, rocky beach together.
The tide was a new thing for us Michiganders. Here on the peninsula, we had to pay attention: there were several islands you could walk out to at low tide. But come high tide, you might get stranded.
And the bay’s ocean water, just like in Nova Scotia, was freezing. So we mainly played on the rocks.
Later that night, after dinner, we took a stroll back down to the coast to watch blue hour come in at high tide.
Maine was different. More rugged. A little more wild. And there was lots more to see.
To us Americans, Pictou, Nova Scotia’s Lobster Carnival was nothing short of a wonder.
Pictou is a small town. But walking around on the last day of our Canadian trip, you’d think the whole town had turned out. And why not? On the East Coast, lobsters are a big deal.
Pictou made them a big deal.
A mini fair, with rides and games, a concert in the park, and one of the best lobster rolls I had so far this trip – Carny had it all.
We couldn’t have picked a better way to say “goodbye” to Canada.
Before we left town, we stopped and had ice cream. Tomorrow? Through New Brunswich and on to Maine.
Shot on the Canon EOS M6 and EF-M 22mm f/2 and 32mm f/1.4.
Imagine a New England state-size island, full of its own little towns and natural wonders, and that’s Cape Breton – off the eastern coast of Nova Scotia.
It was a bit of a drive to get there, but boy, it was worth it.
First, we took some nature trails and discovered Egypt Falls along the western section of the island.
For the kids, it was a grueling hike up and down the trail. But at the bottom? One of the most beautiful waterfalls I’ve ever seen.
After Egypt Falls, we hiked the Lewis Mountain trail, a hidden gem behind a set of power lines. To get there, you take a lovely drive around Bras d’Or, the large inland body of saltwater.
The trail, a gentle incline through a beautiful northern forest, followed a stream where (I’m proud to say) my family took a swim.
Driving around the island, there was plenty to see.
To close out the trip, we had dinner in Baddeck, where I couldn’t resist eating an entire lobster.
Shot on the Canon EOS M6 with the EF-M 22mm f/2 and kit zoom lenses.
As we approached the shore, we noticed the fog rolling in off the Atlantic. This would be a theme for our vacation.
It was certainly a vibe: a rocky, jagged coast, a little fishing village, and not much visibility. We could barely see the lighthouse from the parking lot, but the visibility improved the closer you got.
Reds and greens. Blues and teals. Here, colors popped out of the fog.
Driving from the coast, we made a few stops along the way to see what else the fog was hiding.
Some of it? We couldn’t see. It’s still a mystery.
You haven’t experienced a national holiday until you’ve seen Canadians celebrate Canada Day on July 1.
The first clue came when we were driving into Halifax.
“Everyone’s wearing red,” I noticed. Like, everyone.
First, we hit the waterfront district because that’s where the action was. Food, activities, vendors – and tons of people dressed in their Canada Day gear. It was super fun to see, especially coming from the United States, where our relationship with our northern neighbor has been rocky since January.
“Good for Canada,” I thought with a little sense of pride.
Our kids had fun seeing the big ships coming into the Halifax harbor and the giant wave sculpture.
Then we left the waterfront to walk around the Public Gardens.
Later, trying to find a place for dinner, we wandered around the north part of the city until we found a stellar cidery, the Chain Yard – complete with a DJ.
This situation – visiting a new city in another country on a special day – is exactly what I mean when I tell people I use photography as an excuse for adventure. It’s my favorite setting: a new place with new people, where I get to use my camera as a sort of third eye, capturing and getting to know the things I see.
Speaking of which…
From Halifax, we drove to Peggy’s Cove for some fog and lighthouse action. More on that next.
Shot on the Canon EOS M6 and (mostly) the EF-M 15-45mm kit zoom lens.
Here in Brooklyn, Michigan, where I grew up, you can’t spit without hitting a lake.
Clark Lake is the popular one, especially at the members-only Consumers Energy Boat Club. A few friends invited us to spend a warm summer Sunday by the beach with them.
Swimming in the Atlantic Ocean was new enough for our kids. But swimming in the northern Atlantic?
That water is cold.
The frigid ocean didn’t stop us, though, at Rushtons Beach, a scenic, sandy beach on the north side of Nova Scotia.
We spent half of the day relaxing on the beach. For the other half, we explored one of the rivers flowing into the Atlantic. The kids discovered you could tiptoe across the water to the near shore.
I took the boardwalk and went to explore around the provincial park a bit.
After brushing the sand off, we went into Pictou for dinner and ice cream.
Not a bad first day exploring the Maritimes.
Shot on the Canon EOS M6 and EF-M 22mm f/2 and 32mm f/1.4.
The first leg of our two-week vacation was along the north shore of Nova Scotia, in a little town called Marshville. It was a total throw-a-dart-at-a-map-and-hope-it-works-out location.
It totally worked out.
We’re an AirBNB/Vrbo family, and we try to get cabins on the water. This one was close enough – a short walk down a drive, then a set of stairs down a bluff, and we were oceanside.
The neighborhood was filled with quaint sea cottages, many of which proudly displayed their Canadian pride.
As always, I took the first day or two to explore the cabin and the neighborhood, exploring the light where I could find it.
Marshville was a good launching point for all our adventures. We had plenty to see along Nova Scotia’s North Shore, and it was centrally located to easily make our future drives to Halifax and Cape Breton.
Every morning, the kids watched the tide ebb and flow. And every evening, we went down to the beach to see the sunset.
We saw the ocean in California last year, but not like this – not every day, and not this close to shore. After the kids overcame their fear of the little brown jellyfish and embraced the cold northern water, the ocean became part of their spiritual rhythm.
The Canon M6, paired with either the EF-M 22mm f/2, EF-M 32mm f/1.4, or the M kit zoom, made for a light and satisfying travel kit.
We spent our first evening getting to know the place. The next day, we’d travel to a local beach to really take in the ocean view.
All of our summer vacations have lasted a week. Weekend to weekend, about 9-10 days max. This year, we tried something different: taking a two-week vacation out East.
We hit the road in late June for an epic road trip to the Atlantic Coast – first to Nova Scotia, Canada, for one week, then to Maine for the second week.
To get there, it meant driving 20 hours through Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, and finally Nova Scotia to our first cabin. We split the drive in half, staying overnight in Trois-Rivières, Quebec, at a lovely hotel on the St. Lawrence Seaway.
I took six years of French in high school and college, so it’s been a while since I spoke it fairly fluently. It was pretty humbling to walk into a gas station on the edge of Trois-Rivières where the checkout team spoke nothing but French.
Petrol, s’il vous plait?
Quebec was a brief stop on the way, but it is a huge Canadian province, and most of our driving ran along the St. Lawrence until we hopped over the river in Quebec City and then on through New Brunswick.
This is the first in a series of posts outlining our big summer adventure. I brought along the Canon EOS M6 with a full kit of EF-M lenses. I also kept the Canon EOS M in the car for road photos, and the few you see above in Trois-Rivières.
An epic road trip to the East Coast sporting the Canon M line. Lots more to come.
Inside the welcoming walls of 21 Blooms Tattoo Studio, Dylan Sodt (he/they) is quietly reshaping how people see themselves, one piercing at a time.
Dylan is a piercer, but that barely scratches the surface. For them, piercing is not just a form of body modification. It’s a practice of empowerment, trust, and transformation.
“I can build a little home with people in 30 minutes,” they say. “It creates a ritual environment. It’s an energetic exchange. They’re trusting me—and that’s when I think I have the best job.”
Born and raised in Jackson, Dylan’s path to piercing was anything but linear. He started by sketching the human figure as a kid and later found creative expression as a drummer in local bands. For much of his adult life, Dylan worked in restaurants, eventually managing the bar and kitchen at Sandhill Crane Vineyards. But even while building menus and leading teams, a deeper pull was growing.
“I hit a point where I needed something new,” he recalls.
Just two days after leaving the vineyards, he began a piercing apprenticeship.
“Piercing found me,” Dylan says.
Precision Meets Purpose
That leap of faith led them into a world where artistic intuition and technical precision are inseparable. Their practice is steeped in anatomy, geometry, and material science.
“It’s engineering on a smaller scale,” Dylan says.
Before he started working with Lauren Maureen of Emerald Sun Studios, Dylan had to start at the beginning: an apprenticeship.
Apprenticeship is the cornerstone of ethical piercing, and Dylan’s journey was a slow and deliberate one.
“You don’t even touch a needle for months. You learn the biology of wound healing, jewelry angles, and sterilization.”
But even more than technique, piercing is about people. Dylan specializes in body reclamation: helping those who have experienced trauma, abuse, or body dysmorphia reconnect with themselves.
“I want clients to feel more empowered when they leave here,” they say. “I’ve had clients squeal when they see themselves in the mirror. That sound? It means everything.”
Their work is artistic and deeply personal. Dylan observes each client closely: how they dress, carry themselves, the undertones of their skin, hair, and eye color.
“I have 30 minutes to clock your style,” he says. “It’s like painting on someone else’s canvas. Then it walks out the door and lives a whole life.”
From simple lobe studs to advanced curated ear setups, every piece is placed with aesthetic intention and precision measured in millimeters.
“We have to create the illusion of symmetry. If it’s off, people will feel it. Others will notice.”
Confidence, Care, and Ritual
Empowerment doesn’t come without responsibility. Dylan sees self-confidence as a professional obligation.
“You need a god complex to do this work—not arrogance, but self-respect,” they say. “You have to put clients at ease. There’s no room for shaky hands.”
They draw on Buddhist practices like breathwork and meditation to stay grounded and present, offering their clients not only a piercing, but also a moment of calm and clarity.
Outside the studio, Dylan finds creative joy in cooking—“an art form that doesn’t belong to me,” they say. “It’s all colors and flavors, and then it’s gone in 15 minutes.”
They surround themself with earth tones, thrifted treasures, and houseplants, always seeking to breathe new life into the old. That ethos flows directly into their work.
“What I do gives people a new image of themselves,” they say.
Community and Collaboration at 21 Blooms
At 21 Blooms, Dylan has found a creative home. The studio, owned by Emily Radke and envisioned as a hub for full-time piercers, is more than a workplace.
It’s a collaborative sanctuary.
“We push each other here,” Dylan says. “We talk through designs, hold critique nights. There’s a vulnerability in that, but it makes us all better.”
For them, the studio is also a commitment to raising the standard in Jackson.
“This city deserves a proper piercing space. If you get pierced by me, I consider you a client forever. I’m an island of proper piercing.”
Looking ahead, Dylan is pursuing certification with the Association of Professional Piercers (APP), a national standard of excellence in the field.
“There’s no ceiling in this work. You can always get better,” they say.
From the restaurant floor to the piercing chair, and no matter their tools, Dylan has always been in the business of care.
“I’m in service of an idea,” they say. “That people can see themselves differently. That they can walk out of here and feel like they belong to themselves again.”
I’m not here to sell anyone on getting a day job, and I am plenty conscious that day jobs aren’t necessarily easy to come by right now. But there’s definitely something liberating about not relying on your art to pay the rent.
My decision to hold onto a steady job while building a creative life is a structure that lets me do both things well (most of the time). It honors my creativity and my sanity.
Twenty years ago, on my first big road adventure across America on Route 66, I noticed something when I got back:
As soon as I took the highway exit to get back into my hometown, I was disappointed. “Back to reality,” I thought. It’s dramatic to say out loud, but getting back home left me with the feeling that the trip was all make-believe. It was like I never left.
That feeling, that disappointment, has never gone away. In fact, just this summer, when we returned from the Atlantic coast, it felt the exact same way taking that exact same exit off the highway.
I’m not saying we didn’t have a wonderful time, nor am I saying it would’ve been better if we never left. I am saying that coming back home to all the to-do lists, work, and obligations can be a bummer.
It feels so good to travel, to see new places and experience new things. And then you drive away, leaving it all behind with photos and memories to keep you going until the next big adventure. Luckily, we have our fair share of future travel plans.
Real life feels like the in-between moments before the next getaway.
That’s why I advocate for taking little adventures along the way – taking a day and going hiking, say, or driving to a new small town and making pictures there.
Whatever helps until the next escapade.
Shot on the Canon EOS M6 and EF-M 22mm f/2 in Brooklin, Maine.
Do you know that thing with film cameras where it may take you weeks, months, or even years to shoot a whole roll of film?
And then you get the film photo printed, and it’s like rediscovering everything you photographed over that time period?
I do that on my digital cameras, too. I have my front-seat camera, the Canon EOS M, and my around-the-house camera, the Canon 5D. Sometimes, I’ll go weeks without importing the photos into Lightroom. There’s no rush, so I let the images collect on the card.
That time and distance help me evaluate whether I like the pictures or not. So does forgetting about photos in my Lightroom catalog. I can go years without looking at some photos, and then I look through my catalog and remember moments, scenes, trips, and light.
The trick is to actually look back at your archive and see what’s buried there.
I can not stress how important it is not to let the pressure of posting a photo only to have no one pay it any attention stop you from enjoying what you do. You can jump from service to service all you want but the only thing that will change the reactions you get is your own personal development and reputation as a photographer which, like anything, takes time and patience. Heres a little secret, the grass is more or less the same shade of green no matter where you go.
We managed to get away for our 10-year wedding anniversary.
It was chilly for the last weekend in May, but we returned to two of our favorite spots near the Lake Michigan coast: Virtue Cider in Fennville, Michigan, and The Kirby Hotel in Douglas, Michigan.
Virtue Cider
Virtue was one of my early “holy crap” ciders, where I took a chance on a six-pack of cans and was blown away.
Now we come back to taste the new ciders, grab a snack, and head outside for some acoustic guitar.
Kirby Hotel
We came to the Kirby on the coldest day of 2022, after the wassail celebration at Virtue Cider was cancelled because of the weather.
It was fine by us, because that winter, we had the place almost to ourselves and we got to chat with the chef and operator about their historic hotel.
This time, the house was packed for dinner, and we had several guests in the hotel. But the next morning, for breakfast? Just us and the chef again.
I love finding little places like this, where you become a regular and get to know the staff.
Shot on the Canon M6 and EF-M 22mm and 32mm lenses.
Tucked in a cozy corner of Art 634 in Jackson, Michigan, Jason Heinrich’s Yesterdream Studio isn’t just a storefront. It’s a portal to comfort, creativity, and memory.
Admittedly, the space defies easy classification.
“It’s not really a furniture store, not really a record store, not really a gift shop,” Jason says with a laugh. “But it’s also all of those things.”
Growing up in a Downriver factory town in the 1980s, Jason was surrounded by the aesthetic leftovers of previous decades: glass lamps, mid-century furniture, the sound of rock and roll.
“Especially in finished basements and cottages, there was always that old stuff from the ’60s and ’70s. It was everywhere,” he says. “That became my comfort. I didn’t know it then, but I’ve always been chasing that feeling.”
At Yesterdream Studio, that sense of comfort is Jason’s goal. Everything in the space invites visitors to slow down, remember, and then use the items in the shop to make their own space comfortable.
“Transforming your space can transform your mental health,” Jason says. “If you’re surrounded by things that bring you comfort, it affects your mood. That’s a big part of why I do this.”
Finding His Way to Jackson
Jason’s journey here hasn’t followed a straight line. After starting out in fine arts, he spent several years as a laborer in the plumbing trades, his family’s profession stretching back generations. Later, he earned a certificate in graphic design and worked in marketing roles for various Michigan associations. That work included working as a graphic designer and social media manager for marketing departments
But every time he stepped away from art, something pulled him back.
“I’ve tried to reinvent myself so many times,” he says. “But creativity always finds its way back in. I don’t go looking for creative work. It just kind of finds me.”
He opened Yesterdream Studio in 2023 at Art 634, after years of collecting, designing, and repurposing, while continuing to work on freelance graphic design and marketing projects.
Jason says his work revolves around sustainability.
“One of the biggest parts of this place is to reimagine, repurpose, and reuse,” Jason says. “There’s no reason to buy brand-new when you can take something old, paint it funky colors, and give it new life. And it’s better for the environment.”
His love for natural patinas and vintage design finds its way into the usefulness and beauty of everyday objects. For an example, Jason points to a large metal tackle box on his shelf.
“People throw stuff away because they don’t see the value. But to me, this tackle box is beautifully designed. It could be anything—a painter’s box, a face painter’s kit, whatever,” he says. “That’s what I love about it.”
Everything Old Is New
Jason’s love of vintage also extends to running a local steampunk convention.
His journey from Renaissance fairs to Steampunk festivals began in the early 2000s. After discovering Steampunk in 2011, he launched monthly events and co-created the Gears, Beards, & Beers competition. Partnering with DJ Van Helsteam, they later hosted the Monster Hunter Bash.
When Michigan’s Steampunk scene slowed during the pandemic, Jason found new inspiration at Art 634. In 2023, he launched Steampunk on the Bricks, a one-day festival that blends workshops, live performances, and integrated vendor experiences. Now in its second year, the event draws hundreds from across the Midwest thanks to support from Art 634, Experience Jackson, and Manchester Underground.
AN Antidote to Intensity
Jason is productive, often jumping from project to project—painting, cooking, woodworking—and he rarely sits still for too long.
“It’s kind of like checking things off a list,” he says. “One minute, I’m carving a walking stick, and the next, I’m painting a side table. It’s all over the place, but it works for me.”
Above all, Jason wants Yesterdream Studio to provide an antidote to the intensity of modern life.
“The world’s gotten meaner,” he says. “People are stressed out, trying to survive. We’ve lost compassion and grace. I wanted to build a space that reminds people to slow down, to breathe.”
His space also invites other artists, including his colleagues from Art 634, to collaborate and network, which helps create a productive, inspiring space for Jason to dabble and create.
“I just want to be around authenticity,” he says. “No personas, no fakeness. Just real people being real. That’s what this space is about.”
