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Oceans of Prairie

“Tish-ah!” said the grass … “Tish-ah, tish-ah!” … Never had it said anything else — never would it say anything else. It bent resiliently under the trampling feet; it did not break, but it complained aloud every time — for nothing like this had ever happened to it before. …”Tish-ah, tish-ah!” it cried, and rose up in surprise to look at this rough, hard thing that had crushed it to the ground so rudely, and then moved on.”

— From Chapter 1 of Giants in the Earth, A Saga of the Prairie, by O.E. Rolvaag

I grew up in the short-grass prairies of Ziebach and Dewey counties in the 1970s and’80s. I remember dry years filled with grasshopper hordes and dust. Some of those summers, the pastures were only green for a few weeks out of the year. As a sophomore in high school we were required to read Giants in the Earth by O.E. Rolvaag. I remember musing over his description of the tall grass prairie Per Hansa and his fellow settlers traversed to get to their claim in southeastern South Dakota. It was hard to imagine grass growing chest high. Growing up in rattlesnake country, I was (and still am) wary of walking through grass taller than my ankles. I like to see where my next foot fall will be. It took a strong dose of imagination to picture making my way through the tall grass like those old timers did, but that is exactly what I’ve been doing over the last month and a half.

I first heard of the Nature Conversancy’s prairie preserves from Greg Latza, one of the area’s best and well-known photographers. I was looking for advice in finding and photographing my first pasqueflower in the wild. He suggested checking out Makoce Washte Prairie Preserve near Wall Lake in western Minnehaha County. I had no idea such a place existed. I remember first arriving and being a little crestfallen. It seemed to simply be a small pasture with a bit of wetland and a few gentle, easy hillsides. Corn and beans fields flanked the preserve and a small cattle pasture lay across the county road. I did eventually find a pasque growing there though, so I filed the place away in my memory for future photographic considerations.

This summer has been wetter than most, and too wet for many. Even so, the last few years of abundant moisture has caused the tall grass prairie preserves on the eastern side of the state to grow lush, thick stands of grasses dotted with wildflowers and forbs. The latter is why I returned to Makoce Washte as well as a handful of other preserves during the last month and a half. I’ve always been fascinated with native prairie flowers and they have a tendency to attract interesting butterflies, birds and insects. That means these prairie preserves are a treasure trove for a photographer with a macro lens (and plenty of insect repellent).

The untamed winds that push through the Northern Plains can make macro photography in the open prairie a bit difficult, but it also helps keep the biting gnats and mosquitos at bay. One of my main objectives on these recent forays was to find and photograph the blooms of the tiny flowers that the native tall grasses produce. In the past, I’ve not noticed the miniature bits of beauty these grasses provide, but once I saw them, I couldn’t stop looking. Despite their constant waving in even the gentlest of breezes, I got a few photographs that I’m happy to share. I recommend getting out and taking a look for yourself. There are still late summer and early fall flowers blooming on the prairie preserves, which are free to the public to hike. For more information visit www.nature.org.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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On the Rainbow Road

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high.” Chances are good that if you read or hear these words a familiar tune will pop into your head. Likely it will be Judy Garland’s signature melody from the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz. Or maybe it will be Hawaiian-born musician Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole’s ukulele version that has 768 million views on YouTube. This song may be the most familiar rainbow tune, but there are plenty more. I grew up hearing Kermit the Frog sing”Rainbow Connection,” and then learned to sing it myself in music class. One of my favorite country songs from The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band reminds listeners that,”If we’re ever gonna see a rainbow, we gotta stand a little rain.” Rainbows are special. They are ephemeral. Unique. Often amazing. Plenty of rain fell this spring and summer, so there were more than a few opportunities to chase rainbows.

That’s actually supplanted storm chasing as my favorite hobby. As awe-inspiring and downright scary as a good high plains thunder boomer can be, my favorite part of summer is catching that first light after the storm. That’s when glorious things can happen in the heavens above. I don’t consider myself a storm chaser anymore. I’m a rainbow chaser.

It seems obvious, but to be a rainbow chaser one must stay weather aware. Storms toward the evening with little cloud cover behind them provide the best opportunities for horizon-filling rainbows. With sunlight shooting into the back of a rain cloud, the chances of rainbow creation are greatly increased. As a bonus, once the sun sets you have a chance to see that warm sunset light color the towering storm clouds from behind. It is an amazing sight to witness a changing — almost living — yellow, orange and red skyscape amble across the sky.

That’s exactly what happened when I met a strong storm that passed through Huron and was heading southeast towards Sioux Falls. I caught the front side of the storm somewhere north of Carthage. The wall cloud was menacing, so I skirted around to the south and then drove up the backside. A dazzling double rainbow was my reward. I trailed the storm to a country steeple northeast of Howard and then stayed for the cloud show. The scene before me was an artist’s masterpiece. An elegant spire standing tall in the midst of the slowly changing colors of a summer sunset painted on a storm cloud. It was a Psalm 19 kind of moment.

A panoramic of Belleview Lutheran Church following a thunderstorm in rural Miner County.


A couple weekends later, I met another summer storm and its rainbows. The magic happened east of Stickney in Davison County and then spilled over into Douglas County about 8 miles west of Dimock. This time the rainbow stuck around while the clouds turned sunset red. Chain lightning played across the horizon for an extravagant finishing touch. Visions like that are probably why there are so many songs about rainbows. On that particular day, I did indeed find the rainbow connection.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Backroad Tripping

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” — JRR Tolkien

Unlike Bilbo in Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring, I have always loved a good old-fashioned road trip. I grew up on a small dairy operation and the daily chores kept us homebound for much of that time. Anytime a road trip presented itself, it was a chance to see the outside world and other country sides. To this day, I’m perfectly happy driving through”new to me” country, taking in the sights on any given vacation.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve noticed that the love of the road is not unique to me. Not by a long shot. Popular music, from country to rock, all have a good share of songs praising and lamenting life on the road. South Dakota musician Jami Lynn penned a song inspired by her favorite stretch of Dakota road along Highway 34 in the Bridger area called”Cheyenne River Bottoms.” A favorite line from the tune is”Seems Highway 34 could drive me straight into the afterlife.” I’ve been on roads like that. Sometimes it’s the scenery, sometimes it’s the sky — and when it’s both, that is when the view outside the windshield can enter into the mystical.

And now it is road trip season again. Long light days, warm weather, new life and simple wanderlust has taken me all over South Dakota this spring and summer. I’ve become a big fan of backroads and two-lane highways. I’ve especially grown fond of roads with their own names. Back in my old stomping grounds of Ziebach County, there is a road called Leedom Pike that takes you right up to and through the Moreau River and out to Thunder Butte road. This may always be my favorite passage in the state, although I’d not recommend going after a good rain because the gravel eventually turns to slick gumbo in the river hills. I know this from experience. Thank goodness for prairie grass in the ditch or I may have never returned from that trip.

Other roads I’ve come to know and love include the Bixby Road in Perkins County, the JB Pass in Harding County, Jim River Road in Yankton County and the Bad River Road going southwest out of Fort Pierre. I recently drove by Hidden Timber Road in Todd County and nearly stopped just to see what lay yonder over the hill. Maybe next time. Maybe you have a favorite scenic byway that you love. If so, drop a line in the comments and hopefully someday I’ll take a drive in that general direction. In the meantime, here is a verse from Bilbo’s road song to celebrate our love of the road.

“The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.” — JRR Tolkien

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Up Close

Memorial Day morning was downright cold and damp. I was traveling to see friends and family from Spearfish to Bison to Mobridge. A thick morning fog bade me farewell as I left Spearfish and headed north. My first destination was the Slim Buttes of Harding County. By the time I got there the fog was gone, and a light, chilly drizzle was just dissipating. I took a short detour along the graveled portion of JB Road. Soon, I was in wildflower heaven.

A few days before, I had stopped at Buffalo Gap National Grasslands east of Badlands National Park and spent some time along the rim of Sage Creek Wilderness looking for spring wildflowers. It seems that every time I do this, I find something I’ve never seen — or at least never noticed. Wildflower season was delayed with our cool and late spring, but the blossoms seemed abundant. In the Badlands, I found large patches of white spreading phlox, good stands of star lilies and something called ballhead gilia that was new to me.

Earlier in May, I was at the Dells of the Big Sioux south of Dell Rapids looking for migrating birds in a light rain. While there, I grabbed my macro lens to take a few photos of raindrops on the new spring leaves and honeysuckle just beginning to bloom. The intricate detail bejewelled by water droplets reminded me of how amazing it can be to get up close and personal with spring’s new growth. Which brings me back to JB Road in the Slim Buttes.

After I turned off Highway 79 and headed west, I spotted pasqueflowers going to seed. I made a note to stop on my way back (hopefully after the rain stopped) to get a photo or two. A little further down the trail — in a little clearing surrounded by sage, hardpan and the beginning of a draw — I spotted prairie smoke. This little beauty made me stop. Until last year, I’d only seen prairie smoke flowers in a tended garden, so I get excited seeing them in the wild. Soon I came across mountain bluebells, spotted mission bells and stemless Easter daisies, all coated with raindrops. My pants and shoes became soaked and muddied, but it was pure joy. It reminded me of a Dakota tribal story called, “The Song of the Twin-Flower.” It tells of an old Dakota man who finds the first pasqueflower of the year. It reminds him of his childhood, when he wandered over the prairie hills, carefree and happy. After smoking a pipe of meditation and memory, he picks that first flower and takes it home to his grandchildren.

In the Dakota tradition, every species has its own song. Since pasqueflowers are first to bloom, their song calls out to other wildflowers and plants to awaken from their winter slumber and grow. Stories like this strike a chord with me, because now I know what it is to kneel among the wildflowers, study their beauty and meditate on the beauty of our native prairies. In this column, I’ve gathered 24 of my favorite spring wildflower photos from the last month. Every photograph was taken with a macro lens so you can get up close and see the wonder just as I did.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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In Full Swing

For the last seven years, I’ve tried to visually document the first signs of new life in “spring journals.” From the first wildflowers to the arrival of songbirds, rambling nature walks through parks in southeastern South Dakota have become increasingly fun. In years past, I usually started documenting signs of spring in March — and sometimes as early as February — but the last two winters have been long and trying. This time, I started my journal entries on the day after a major blizzard struck on April 12. It is amazing how much changes on the Great Plains in a 30-day window. We’ve gone from feet of snow on the ground in mid-April to a near 80-degree day in mid-May, with birds and bumblebees in the air instead of snowflakes. All this change makes it quite difficult to not get caught up in spring fever … and I’m OK with that.

April 13

I found a patch of snow trillium in Newton Hills State Park living up to its name standing strong above the recent snow accumulation.


April 15

I decided to take a walk around Palisades State Park. I discovered a mixed flock of golden-crowned and ruby-crowned kinglets foraging in the cedar trees above the quartzite cliffs. These tiny birds were fearless and foraged all around me as if I wasn’t there.


April 19

The evening sun warmed the first butterflies of the season at Union Grove State Park, including this eye-catching Eastern comma.


April 21

On Easter Sunday I travelled through the glacial hills between Eureka and Leola in McPherson County on my way home from visiting family. I took a couple gravel road detours to look for pasqueflower stands and was not disappointed.


April 24

For only the second time ever, I found blooming white fawn lily (or trout lily) flowers at Union Grove State Park. Although not a rare wildflower in general, it is rare for our state. It has only been documented along Brule Creek in Union County.


May 2

My first spring hike at Big Sioux Recreation Area near Brandon turned up brush flowers and yellow rumped warblers catching insects out of mid-air above the hiking trails.


May 4

While returning from a hike at Newton Hills State Park, I pulled off I-29 at the Canton exit to go west a few miles. I caught a striking spring sunset over West Prairie Lutheran in rural Lincoln County.


May 7

Another hike at Palisades State Park turned up a rare look inside a raccoon den in a hollowed out tree. This young coon looked like he was just waking up from a nap, and I was a bit jealous. He looked quite cozy in there with his siblings.


May 9

I took a walk around sunset at the Japanese Gardens of Terrace Park and saw a female common yellowthroat warbler frolicking on the edge of Covell Lake.


May 10

While walking a trail along the northeastern cliffs of Palisades State Park, I was buzzed by my first ruby-throated hummingbird of the season. I turned to follow and found a good nectar source (Missouri gooseberry shrub blossoms). I waited for more than half an hour as the sun sank lower in the sky. Just as I thought I had missed my chance, the hummingbird returned with a couple friends; one of them allowed me to get this photo. It was a memorable close encounter with nature, and I was thrilled to come away with a photo (in focus) to remember it by.


May 11

There is a lot of water around this spring. Too much water for many people. I was crossing a very full and fast moving Skunk Creek just west of Ellis at sunset, and the colorful sky reflected on the rushing water looked like an abstract painting.


May 12

After church on Sunday morning, I took a walk at the Sioux Falls Outdoor Campus and got a nice look at this blackpoll warbler. He, like the majority of warblers migrating through this time of year, has made his way north from as far as Central America and won’t stop for the breeding season until reaching the boreal forests of Canada.


May 13

There are few aromas I like better than plum blossoms on a spring breeze. This orange-crowned warbler at the Big Sioux Recreation Area also likes flowerings because they attract nectar-seeking insects that must be quite tasty.


May 14

The temperature was near 80 degrees in Sioux Falls, and I spent some time walking through a very busy Terrace Park after work. With lilacs just beginning to open and ducklings on Covell Lake, spring appears to be in full swing on the upper Great Plains, and that is very good news.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Pasqueflower Pursuit

When I decided to seriously pursue capturing outdoor, nature and wildlife photos back in the summer of 2009, one of my highest priorities was to find and photograph the pasqueflower. I had known since grade school that this little prairie flower was our state flower, but I had never seen one. I didn’t know that they grew on the sides of buttes in the part of the state where I grew up. I didn’t know they usually appeared before the pastures turn green. I didn’t know that the truly wild ones only grew on land that has never been tilled. Now, nearly 10 years later, I have learned all these things, plus how to study the weather and snowmelt to gauge when and where to find little patches of one of our first harbingers of spring.

The pursuit of the pasqueflower has now become one of my favorite activities. Depending on the year and the weather, pasqueflowers can appear from as early as mid-March through mid-May all across the state. I’ve seen them in the Black Hills, the Slim Buttes, along the James River, near Big Stone Lake and in the Coteau hills. I found my first pasque of 2019 just a few days ago in Hanson County. This particular patch south of Alexandria near Lake Hanson has been one of the more reliable places to find and photograph the flower. For this column, I thought it would be fun to show and tell a little about the first pasqueflower I’ve found in each spring going back to 2010, as well as share a few more of my favorite pasque portraits. I hope you enjoy the photos half as much as I’ve enjoyed capturing them.

April 6, 2019

The first pasque of 2019 was found at my favorite patch in Hanson County. A couple of honeybees were there before me, enjoying the sweet delicacies of fresh wildflower.


April 8, 2019

With a much ballyhooed winter storm approaching later this week, I decided to go back to shoot my favorite patch in the late evening light on Monday while I still had sunshine.


April 11, 2018

The first of 2018 was found on April 11 in Hanson County. Interestingly enough, April 11 is the date on which I also discovered the first pasques of 2010 and 2011.


April 1, 2017

Not an April fool’s joke, the first pasqueflower of 2017 was found on April 1 after a morning of photographing prairie chickens at Fort Pierre National Grasslands.


March 11, 2016

An unusually warm February and March saw tiny pasqueflowers emerging in the Slim Buttes on March 11, 2016. This is the earliest I’ve ever encountered wild pasqueflowers above ground.


March 20, 2016

This photo is probably my most famous pasqueflower portrait because it ran in a couple of National Geographic‘s online user generated photo columns. The assignment was to photograph what the first day of spring looked like where you live. This was what it looked like at my favorite pasque patch in Hanson County.


March 31, 2015

The first of 2015 included this pasqueflower bouquet found along the Vermillion River hills in McCook County.


April 10, 2014

First pasques of 2014 along a creek that empties into the James River in Hanson County.


April 21, 2014

This is one of my favorite pasque portraits. It was found in the evening sunlight in a rocky roadside ditch in the Coteau Hills of Grant County.


May 5, 2013

This is the latest day for my first pasqueflower (found near Lake Vermillion Recreation Area). This was also the year that produced the devasting ice storm that plagued much of the region in April and set much of the growing season back significantly.


March 14, 2012

The first flower of 2012 was found in a ditch on a hill along a secondary road at the Lake Vermillion Recreation Area.


April 26, 2012

Nearly a month and a half after finding the first of 2012, I found a nice stand in the northern Black Hills above Roughlock Falls near Tinton.


April 11, 2011

The first flowers of 2011 were found in the early evening light just south of Lake Vermillion along the river hills.


April 11, 2010

My very first pasqueflower find and photos were from a sunny April 11 near Hartford Beach State Park in Roberts County.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Blizzard Buster

It started on the afternoon of Saturday, February 23. I was hiking through shin-deep snow at the Big Sioux Recreation Area near Brandon when the first wind gust arrived. It wasn’t much. A rustle of branches at the top of the cottonwoods, a shiver in the tall grass still above the snow, then quiet again. Even so, it didn’t take long for another gust to arrive, just a bit stronger and more ominous. That was my cue to head home. I’ve been caught in South Dakota ground blizzards before, and I have no stomach to drive in one again.

Later that night, the wind rattled my bedroom window, waking me up a couple times. By Sunday morning, new drifts and travel advisories covered much of eastern South Dakota. I stayed in, cooked bacon with my eggs and happily sat it out. At least, that was the plan. By mid-afternoon I was tired of being cooped up. The wind still howled, but it was waning. The sun was out, accompanied by bright sun dogs. That was all it took for me to find my coveralls, my camera and head out the door.

I visited a few country churches within a 10-mile radius and accessible by paved county roads. I only got to one. In many places, the roads had only a single lane plowed and even that was quickly drifting shut. I was first stymied south of Benton Lutheran near Crooks. I could see the church, but I couldn’t see a clear path beyond a long stretch of drifting to the south. The gravel going west from town was impassable, as were most gravel roads in the area, so I headed north to West Nidaros Lutheran.

After re-acquainting my face with the joys of subzero wind-chills and getting a few shots of the church and the Old Nidaros replica, I tried for Willow Creek Lutheran just up the road. Nope. It wasn’t going to happen. I only made it a few miles north when I had to turn back and seek more plowed roads. From there I got on the interstate and headed for Brandon. Just south of town is an old, curiously shaped tree on top of the Eminija Mounds, an ancient Native American burial site that has always fascinated me. With drifting snow, sun dogs and a setting sun, I thought it would make a unique photograph. The snow was knee deep, and after nearly going face first into the white abyss I quickly realized that shorter strides work better in deep snow, no matter how appealing the scene is before you.

After the sun went down and I had a belly full of slow-cooked roast beef, carrots, onions and potatoes, I looked out the window and saw light pillars in the air above town. This winter is the first time that I’ve photographed this cold-weather phenomenon. Tiny ice crystals get blown aloft on high wind, subzero days with recent snow. These crystals catch the man-made light and turn it into magnificent light pillars that stretch high into the night sky.

My first good shoots were taken on the north side of Sioux Falls looking south into the city’s bright lights. Then I headed downtown to get shots over Main Avenue. I encountered drifts nearly as tall as me along the stairs of Tower Park. I don’t think I have ever worked so hard just to get down a stairway. After catching my breath, I drove up to the bluff beyond the Big Sioux spillway for my last set of photos for the day. And what a day it was. I don’t want to make a habit of battling blizzards for interesting photography, but I can’t say it wasn’t fun. I can’t say I’m not whole-heartedly ready for spring either.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Lighting Up the Night

I grew up in the country. Going to town always felt like a treat, especially before I started school. Every December, Isabel’s Main Street, which also happened to be a state highway, was adorned with holiday decorations hanging from the light poles. It wasn’t much, just a swirl of a wreath above a red bell and colored lights that turned on with the streetlights. It was, however, enough to make the trips to town for ball games, evening church services and other activities a little more enjoyable. Songs at church turned into carols and were sung a little louder. Soon there were get-togethers, baked goodies and gifts.

At one time, our town had two grocery stores. One of them had few aisles of general store items where you could find shoes, clothing and other odds and ends. There was also a hardware store, a cafe, a candle shop and three gas stations. When Christmas rolled around, you could find gifts right there in town. Of course, most people would take the trip to Mobridge, or Bismarck, North Dakota or to Rapid City to do the serious Christmas shopping, but it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Between circling what we wanted in the Sears catalog and pointing out which fishing lures and how many .22 shells we wanted at the hardware store, you could get Christmas done just fine in our little town.

Later, as I outgrew toys and grew into high school athletics, the addition of holiday lighting on Main Street meant something else: the start of high school basketball season. I’d see those lights go up and know that the first games of the year were right around the corner. Back then, the Little Moreau Conference had its tournament at the beginning of the season, and it was held in Isabel for all my high school years. Our team fared well with the hometown advantage, good players, good coaches and great fans. The Isabel Community Hall would be rocking on those nights in early December and Main Street would be full of cars, cheer and those holiday decorations. Those are great memories.

Back in 2013, I happened to be on Phillips Avenue in Sioux Falls during an early December snowfall. It was a snow globe kind of evening, with giant flakes and no wind. It was so beautiful I had to get my camera out, step into the middle of the street and snap a few photos. I’ve never been one to shoot a lot of city scenes, but there was something special about all the lights and leading lines of the street falling off away from me. This December, I resolved to revisit a few smaller towns to capture a bit of this simple beauty on our main streets during the Christmas season. I used a tripod and shot long exposures with a high aperture to get the star filter effect and the light streaks from passing cars. I think they add visual interest. On my last loop from Salem to De Smet to Flandreau just a few nights ago, I stopped in Lake Preston and was both surprised and happy to discover that their decorations are the same as the ones we had in Isabel. I couldn’t help but be swept back into a wave of holiday memories.

Decorations and fond memories are fun, but the simple beauty of colorful lights reminds me of why Christmas celebrations come around in the first place. On a starry night long ago, we all were given the greatest gift of a babe swaddled in a lowly manger, and,”In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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In a Thanksgiving Mood

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been compiling this online photography column for seven years. I’m thankful for the opportunity the folks at the magazine gave me back in the late summer of 2011. Contributing has given me a concrete reason, besides my general wanderlust, to explore South Dakota. Meeting column deadlines with something worth sharing has honed my photography style and skills. For that I am truly grateful. Since it is the season of Thanksgiving, I thought it might be apropos in this edition to list a few more things for which I am thankful.

First, since this November has come in rather cold and windy, I’m thankful I own a couple good pairs of long johns, plenty of warm socks, a good jacket and waterproof boots. That winter wind is tougher to be thankful for, but without the cold and gray, how would we appreciate those perfect June days?

I’m also thankful for the freedom to roam the back roads; the variety of public lands; city, state and national parks; and friends and relatives who allow me access to experience so much. I’m thankful for my pickup that isn’t quite paid for and tends to drink too much gasoline. I’m thankful for football games, podcasts and good music to keep me company while the miles roll away.

I’m thankful to my folks who encouraged my late-blooming interest in photography. I was in college when they went out on a limb and helped me buy my first”real” camera, a used Minolta Maxxum 7000 film camera with three lenses. They followed it up with a brand new Bogen tripod for Christmas that same year. I still remember Dad making it quite clear that he expected me to use the gifts and not waste the opportunity. Mom has been my biggest fan and often jokes about being my marketing person. And she’s not wrong. It was my mom who first encouraged me to reach out to South Dakota Magazine because she was”just sure” they’d want to print my photos. I distinctly remember telling her that I didn’t think that was how it worked, but, as usual, Mother knew best.

I’m thankful for mentors, friends and collaborators along the way. From exchanging ideas to working together to get specific results, I’m grateful for all the help I’ve had. I’ve also been pleasantly surprised to meet and become friends with so many folks because of this photography hobby of mine — accomplished musicians, inspiring entrepreneurs, church and community leaders and just good old-fashioned, hard-working farmers and ranchers. This ride has been a blessing, and when I actually pause to think about it, I can’t help but be overcome with gratitude.

That brings me to the end of another column in which I get to show off and celebrate South Dakota. I think that’s really cool because I’m truly thankful that I live in this place. There is beauty to be found even on cold, almost winter days when the wind cuts you to the bone. There is art evident in our sunsets, unfolding drama in the sky, exquisite detail in the undergrowth and a wealth of wonder in our wildlife. Thanks to the Creator and thanks to all of you for letting me share this place as my camera and I see it. Happy Thanksgiving!

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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After-Storm Chasing

“Sometimes I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter.”

– Ansel Adams

I’ve always loved a good summer thunderstorm. As a younger man, it meant a much needed drink for the wheat fields and pastures and a day off work for us (provided we got two-tenths of an inch or more). Not much has changed over the years. The scent of rain on the prairie wind remains one of my favorite things, but I’ve also come to love photographing the drama that can unfold in the sky. Storm chasing has become a well-known phenomena during my lifetime, from scientists learning more about severe weather to thrill seekers trying to spot their first tornado. I understand both lines of thinking. I also know that really bad storms cause damage, devastation and possible loss of life, so I hesitate to call myself a thrill seeker when I get the chance to chase a rumbler (below).

Still, I do find an almost unbelievable beauty and wonder in the sheer power and strength of summer storms. The real beauty I’m after is the first light after the storm. Somehow it is cleaner and shines stronger. If circumstances are right, sky filling rainbows can appear to add another layer of grandeur. My favorite post storm scene happens when you get behind the storms just before sunset and watch the golden hour illuminate and color the backside of the massive storm system. There is something mysterious and a little scary about the day’s last light catching and coloring mammatus clouds.

I found a couple such scenes this spring and summer and wanted to share the photos with you in this final column of the summer. In late May, I was driving out to Rapid City for the state track meet as a giant storm moved along the South Dakota/Nebraska border. From Interstate 90 around Presho, I started to see the beauty forming as evening drew on. I was compelled to pull over and drive south. By the time I reached the White River breaks the southern sky was ablaze.

In early June, I drove out to meet a storm heading east from Charles Mix County. Somewhere in Douglas County, I thought I might see my first tornado. The winds were picking up newly tilled dirt and raising it skyward and some eddies twisted and turned forming huge whirlwinds along the straight line wind front. Later in the evening, I arrived at Trinity Lutheran just a few miles west of Platte as the first light of evening broke free from the storm. The result was a sky of rare beauty accompanied by a quiet and peaceful scene only experienced after a major storm passes. In that moment I found what I was looking for — the rare vision of perfect light on a perfect South Dakota scene.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.