The Year in Photos 2020: Scenic Iowa

Jupiter (left) shines bright in the sky as the Milky Way is seen in Walford, Iowa, on Tuesday, Aug. 11, 2020. A good thing about the power outage following the Aug. 10 derecho storm was the lack of light pollution. I took a few minutes to stand in my driveway and photographed. It was kind of meditative as I counted the seconds in my head for when I needed to close the shutter. I got a bonus of an airplane streaking across the sky. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

I've worked the New Year's Day shift for almost every year since I started at The Gazette. It's one of my favorite days to work because I usually get to cover a New Year's Day hike at one of the parks nearby. There's nothing like starting a new year in the dead of winter by conquering the cold and exploring the outdoors with others, and challenging myself to capture that feeling in a photo. As I walked along the path and saw the sunlight catching this clearing, I waited for a group of people to step into just the right spot, framing them in the natural wilderness. Families explore the land and Turkey Creek during a New Year's hike at Turkey Creek Nature Preserve in Solon on Wednesday, Jan. 1, 2020. Bur Oak Land Trust, which owns the property, offered guided tours, a bonfire and hot cocoa in addition to a nature scavenger hunt for kids. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

Early in the coronavirus-related shutdown, the photo staff launched Shutter in Place, a weekly column encouraging creativity at home. For my first installment, I spent an hour sitting in my garden watching the crocuses open as the sun rose. In seeking to inspire our readers, I found inspiration and peace in my own backyard, amid the uncertainty and stress. For this image I exposed for the white petals and pulled back slightly to show more of the garden as the sun had just begun to hit the flowers at the top of this frame. With a low position — nearly on the ground — I was able to layer flowers in the foreground and background. Photographed in Cedar Rapids on Monday, March 30, 2020. (Liz Martin/The Gazette)

Independence's social distancing firework display is seen from the Heartland Acres Agribition Center in Independence on Saturday, July 4, 2020. Usually, I would rely on a crowd of people or someone looking up at the sky to make an image of fireworks just a little more interesting and newsworthy. Personally, I love watching fireworks and they can certainly be fun to photograph but they can also all start to look the same if you're only pointing your lens toward the sky. Being unfamiliar with the size, scope and length of the Independence firework show and working on deadline I was a bit nervous but even more so knowing I needed to try to make Independence Day images without really being close to anyone celebrating. It was one of many odd moments for me in 2020 and while it wasn't a night of drama by any means, it stands out to me as does this photo as a subtle representation of how everything this year was changed by COVID-19 once it arrived. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

Danny Stone enters the pasture at Hercules' Haven in Springville on Monday, Jan. 20, 2020. The new 40-acre property allows the rescue to host guests and produce hay for the animals. (Liz Martin/The Gazette)

A bald eagle flies above the Mississippi River keeping an eye on the shoreline alongside LeClaire Park in Davenport on Tuesday, Feb. 11, 2020. Tuesday morning I traveled to Davenport to photograph the trial concerning the 1979 stabbing death of Michelle Martinko, a Kennedy High School student, for which Jerry Burns is charged with murder. I arrived to the Scott County Courthouse and discovered jury selection was going to continue the rest of the day, a process I of course cannot photograph. Senior visual journalist Liz Martin suggested I make some photos of Davenport and the Mississippi River to have on file. A bit frustrating, I admit, since I thought I'd already made just about every photo the riverfront had to offer having lived and worked in Davenport for three years prior to joining the Gazette staff. As if intent on proving me wrong, this eagle appeared the moment I pulled my car into a spot adjacent to LeClaire Park. I assure you, I never had that kind of luck while living just a few blocks away. I walked closer to the river and within about five minutes had this frame of the eagle and about an hour later circled back for two sunset photos. It couldn't have gone much better for me that evening. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

Ice begins to melt on the surface of Lake Macbride in Solon as seen on Sunday, Feb. 23, 2020. This particular Sunday morning I had just returned from a week in Des Moines covering the 2020 Iowa high school state wrestling tournament. Having been indoors at Wells Fargo Arena for long days throughout the week, the first thing I wanted to do was get outside. I wandered around for a bit on trails before finding a split log at this spot that made for a perfect bench to watch the eagles fly overhead and listen to the drip of melting ice flowing toward the lake. I sat for a little over an hour only flipping through about ten pages in my book — distracted by the fresh air and beautiful light. As the sun set and I picked up to head back to the car I stopped and realized just how much I've truly grown to love this state since leaving the mountains in my rearview mirror in 2015. I never would have guessed it then. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

I was driving home from an assignment in Vinton and noticed the sunset over the golf course in Shellsburg. I thought there might be a cool reflection off the water in the creek to make a nice photo. I shot some frame of just the creek and the sunset but I needed a foreground element to tie the whole photo together. I thought the wisps of stems were a nice design element.The sun sets over Bear Creek and the Wildcat Golf Course in Shellsburg, Iowa, on Wednesday, Feb. 26, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

I consider it my mission to get windmill photographs. I've never been happy with any of the ones I've taken over the years. I actually conceived of this photograph as a black and white shot with my 4x5. I was taking a few photos with my DSLR to get a meter reading. It was funny that I was so preoccupied with getting the perfect shot of this windmill that I totally ignored the thousands and thousands of Sandhill cranes making their way to roost in the Platte River. Sandhill cranes are specks in the sky as the late afternoon golden light illuminates a windmill in a field near Prosser, Neb., on Friday, March 20, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

I've seen the Alliant Energy building lit up in patriotic colors before but I've always been on my way to other assignments for the timing just didn't work. I thought now would be a good time. It was a pretty straight forward photo as far as exposure. If I were to do it again, I would wait for a clearer night as well as use a wider lens than 16mm. I would have been able to introduce the streaks of light from the headlights and tail lights of the vehicles driving along First St. SE. That would have added a nice foreground element. Photography is a continual effort in improvement. The Alliant Energy building is lit up in red, white and blue to show solidarity and support amid the coronavirus outbreak in southeast Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on Wednesday, March 25, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

Colors of sunset reflect off the water of the Iowa River at the Hawkeye Wildlife Management Area in Swisher, Iowa, on Monday, March 30, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

A farmer plants a field as the sun sets north of Walford, Iowa, on Monday, April 20, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

A path leads to an old dam in the Cedar River at Palisades-Kepler State Park near Mount Vernon, Iowa on Thursday, April 23, 2020. State Park facilities and campgrounds are currently closed, but people have continued to get out for hikes and picnics. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

The Cedar River rushes through an old dam at Palisades-Kepler State Park near Mount Vernon, Iowa on Thursday, April 23, 2020. State Park facilities and campgrounds are currently closed, but people have continued to get out for hikes and picnics. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

Blaik Swailes of Marion and Drake Hess of Marion climb a tree kat Palisades-Kepler State Park near Mount Vernon, Iowa on Thursday, April 23, 2020. State Park facilities and campgrounds are currently closed, but people have continued to get out for hikes and picnics. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

I spent some time at a local state park this week and saw that many of our woodland spring wildflowers and plants are starting to bloom, like these Dutchman's Breeches, a sweet cluster of flowers shaped like upside-down pants. Like you, I'm growing tired of looking at the inside of my house and missing my friends and family, so seeing things continue to change in nature is a reminder that time is indeed passing and offers a bit of relief. Dutchman's Breeches grow at Palisades-Kepler State Park near Mount Vernon, Iowa on Thursday, April 23, 2020. State Park facilities and campgrounds are currently closed, but people have continued to get out for hikes and picnics. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

A rock formation is reflected in the water of the Cedar River at Palisades-Kepler State Park near Mount Vernon, Iowa on Thursday, April 23, 2020. State Park facilities and campgrounds are currently closed, but people have continued to get out for hikes and picnics. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

A bee visits flowers on a tree in my front yard in Cedar Rapids on Sunday, April 26, 2020. Since moving to Cedar Rapids in September I have viewed the tree standing in my front yard as a definite highlight. When the leaves turned and I found myself raking for hours I loved to look up at all of its colors. While using a snowblower for the first time I would look up at the thin layer of snow blanketing each otherwise bare branch. Now, with more time than ever to sit on the front step and look out I find myself fascinated by the spring buds popping up on the tree. As much time as I have spent appreciating trees wherever I've lived, I've never realized just how fast they change in the spring. Any tree is a great reminder that I am really quite small and that nature, while delicate, is forever mighty. Right now as I feel life has slowed down so much, it is nice to see nature pressing on, faster than I ever saw. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

Boaters make their way north on the Mississippi River in Marquette, Iowa on Sunday, April 26, 2020. Clayton County will be able to reopen some services and businesses starting May 1. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

M

A classic Ford appearing to be a 1950 Crestliner or perhaps a 1949 Ford sedan is seen in a field outside of Solon off Highway 1 on Saturday, May 9, 2020. Sometimes one of my favorite things about my job is how much I get to drive around the area between photo assignments. It can be inconvenient at times, sure, but ultimately I get to see a lot I wouldn't ever notice if I worked behind a desk all day. This particular Saturday I was driving from the Coralville Community Food Pantry where meals were being handed out off to Palisades-Kepler State Park to search for campers taking advantage of the recently opened state campgrounds as coronavirus pandemic related restrictions were eased. I wasn't on a tight schedule so when I came across these cars parked out in a field I couldn't help but stop and take a look. I've since passed by a few times, the truck is gone and I hope on its way to being restored and given new life. I'd love to hear if anyone knows the story behind either vehicle. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

A motorcycle rider passes along Highway 30 near Newhall as a severe thunderstorm producing heavy rain and hail is seen drawing near on Saturday, July 11, 2020. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

I'm glad I looked toward the grandstand to see this photo. The combination of the sun, the people in the stands and the dust kicked up by the speeding race cars into the air created an ethereal quality to the evening's event at the Super Sunday races at the Benton County Speedway in Vinton, Iowa, on Sunday, July 19, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

Prairie flowers sway in the breeze at Morgan Creek Park in southwest Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on Tuesday, July 21, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

The road turns, revealing silos on a farm south of Sharon Center on Friday, July 31, 2020. (Liz Martin/The Gazette)

A Rantizo DJI Agras MG-1P drone sprayer finishes a demonstration flight outside of Iowa City on Tuesday, Aug. 4, 2020. The barn in the background was built in 1893 by Robert 'Mac' Williams. (Liz Martin/The Gazette)

Ali Hval works on a new mural in Czech Village in Cedar Rapids on Friday, Aug. 7, 2020. The mural is based on a public domain work by Alfons Mucha, with added references to Iowa and the Cedar Rapids such as wildflowers, a goldfinch, and bicycle wheels. (Liz Martin/The Gazette)

The sun sets behind a tree, damaged in the Aug. 10 derecho storm, in rural Vinton, Iowa, on Thursday, Aug. 27, 2020. According to the Iowa Department of Agriculture and Land Stewardship, 36 counties were hardest hit by the storm. Within those 36 counties, the storm severely damaged 3.57 million acres of corn and 2.5 million acres of soybeans. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

A fisherman pulls in a catch along the shoreline of Lake Macbride as haze from wildfires on the West Coast fill the sky at sunset in Solon on Monday, Sept. 14, 2020. After noticing haze in the sky all day I decided to push back an afternoon kayaking on the lake so that we'd be on the water around sunset. It was a surreal sight. It isn't the first time I've seen wildfire smoke from the West Coast in Iowa but it hits closer to home this time. The small town of Detroit, Oregon, appears to have been completely lost to one of the fires. The town lays alongside Detroit Lake, a five square-mile reservoir attracting anglers, recreational boaters, hikers and campers to the area. I grew spending countless hours of summer there and regularly camped nearby in a forested park that I hear is largely destroyed as well. As we continue to recover from the derecho in our area, I'm heartbroken to see more and more loss all along the West Coast as record-breaking wildfires rage on. With many of my family and friends stuck indoors due to unhealthy air conditions, it only felt right to enjoy what we still have in Lake Macbride. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

Fish swim below water lilies in the garden of Janis Russell in Iowa City on Tuesday, Sept. 15, 2020. (Liz Martin/The Gazette)

Evergreen branches, blown into the photographer's yard during the Aug. 10 storm, on Sunprint paper in Cedar Rapids on Tuesday, Sept. 22, 2020. (Liz Martin/The Gazette)

A maple tree shows its fall colors at Pinicon Ridge Park in Central City on Tuesday, Oct. 6, 2020. The park offers trails, camping and outdoor activities along the Wapsipinicon River. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)

I was making my way home after a disappointing search for fall color photos in northeast Iowa. I rounded a slight curve and looked to my right and saw the setting sun. I literally (safely) came to a screeching halt. The sun sets so fast that I was scrambling to switch lenses. I put on my 600mmm to compress the farmland and forest in the valley below. I'm still kicking myself for not leaving just a few minutes early or taking that wrong turn down a gravel room. Otherwise, I would have gotten the golden, round orb. The sun sets over the northeast Iowa countryside along Highway 13 near Farmersburg, Iowa, on Sunday, Oct. 11, 2020. (Jim Slosiarek/The Gazette)

The sun sets behind a tree standing despite having lost a few branches in the Aug. 10 derecho at Cleveland Park in Cedar Rapids on Tuesday, Nov. 17, 2020. I look out my window daily to a number of trees like this one, some in worse shape, some in better. It's a constant reminder that things aren't back to normal over three months after the derecho in Cedar Rapids. Things do feel better for most of us — I don't have a pile of debris in front of my house anymore, neither do my neighbors. But, even contrasted by such a beautiful sunset, the trees stand to remind us that things are indeed different. Cedar Rapids is forever changed. For me, personally, it's a bit comforting (or maybe just validating) to have that reminder. We did go through a lot as a community. The regrowth of our tree canopy will be a generations-long venture. It may not be so easy to see, but we will get too watch our community grow and continue to recover post-derecho and eventually, post-pandemic. My measure for those may not be as simple as a glance out the window, but I look forward to finding out what it may be. As things have been tumultuous, to say the least, this is something I've looked toward to keep me going. (Andy Abeyta/The Gazette)

Contrails can be seen in the afternoon sky against a backdrop of damaged trees at Bever Park in Cedar Rapids on Thursday, Nov. 19, 2020. (Rebecca F. Miller/The Gazette)