This Is My Backyard
Today I drove into downtown Dunnellon for ordinary reasons.
The post office.
My family doctor.
Groceries at Walmart.
Nothing about the day suggested disaster.
And yet, before I even parked, I saw the smoke.
Smoke drifting through the trees. Even from a distance, it burned the eyes and followed me indoors.
By the time I reached the doctor’s office, I could smell it. The air burned my eyes. It followed me indoors. This was not something happening “somewhere else.”
After the post office, I drove closer.
I parked near the smoke and saw several trucks from Hull’s Environmental Services. A woman stood nearby. I asked questions. She was kind. Focused. Doing her job. I took photographs, though branches blocked much of the view.
Cleanup begins at the edge of Dunnellon. Environmental response vehicles staged near the site where treated railroad ties burned—and where far more remain.
I went back to my car and gathered what I had—water bottles and a six-pack of Coke—and brought them to the workers. Cleanup work is exhausting. Care matters. She showed me where to place them, on a bench already holding donated drinks. Others had felt the same concern.
Crews working among smoke, debris, and railroad ties. A reminder that cleanup is difficult, dangerous, and human.
I asked if I could photograph from a little closer.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll take you there so you don’t get hurt.”
She led me to the edge of the woods. There was a slope leading down toward the railroad. She warned me not to get closer than fifteen feet. As I climbed down, I turned to reassure her that I understood.
She was gone.
I stood there alone, with the rising smoke.
And then I saw it.
Untouched by fire, yet still infused with toxic preservatives. These piles remain.
One of many piles of treated railroad ties. Some burned. Many did not.
Not just burned debris—but mountains.
Piles of railroad ties that had not burned.
Still intact.
Still toxic.
Still dangerous.
They sat there quietly, waiting.
If the fire this weekend felt catastrophic, then understand this: what remains is far worse. Multiply that destruction by ten. That is how much treated wood—wood infused with creosote and other toxic chemicals—is still sitting there.
Scale matters. If the weekend fire felt catastrophic, this shows what still remains.
And as I took photographs, anger rose—not reckless anger, but the kind that comes from realizing something deeply wrong has been allowed to exist.
Because this is my town.
This is my backyard.
Rainbow Springs State Park lies just beyond this site. The Rainbow River flows there. Wildlife depends on it. And beneath it all is the aquifer that provides drinking water for our community.
The fire has passed here. Its effects have not.
Toxins do not respect fences.
They do not stay where they are placed.
They seep. They move. They accumulate.
A landscape altered in a matter of days. Recovery will take far longer
So I ask the questions that must be asked.
Who is going to clean this up?
Where will this material be taken?
How will it be handled safely—when it is toxic no matter where it goes?
How long will it take for the surrounding land to recover?
When will contaminants appear in well water—five years, twenty, fifty?
Can we safely swim in the springs again?
What about the communities southeast of this site—downwind, downstream?
Environmental disasters rarely announce themselves all at once. More often, they unfold quietly. Years later, patterns emerge—illnesses, losses—without clear answers because no one wanted to connect the dots.
More treated railroad ties. Quiet. Waiting.
This is why silence is dangerous.
This is not about panic.
It is about responsibility.
This site sits near forest, river, and aquifer. What happens here does not stay here.
Someone decided that treated railroad ties could be stored here—on the edge of a forest, beside a river, above an aquifer. That decision affects all of us. It affects our children. It affects our grandchildren.
To the people of Dunnellon: this is a moment to wake up—not in fear, but in awareness.
We have the right to ask questions.
We have the responsibility to demand transparency.
We have the ability to protect what sustains us.
Hope does not mean looking away.
Hope means standing still long enough to see what is truly there.
I will continue to document what I witness.
I will continue to ask difficult questions.
And I will continue to believe that this land, this water, this life is worth defending.
Because this is not just a place.
It is home.
All photographs © Zsuzsanna Luciano. Captured on site in Dunnellon, Florida.
Dunnellon railroad-tie fire: what happened, what’s burning, and what it could mean for air and water near Rainbow Lakes Estates
In the early morning hours of Feb. 1, 2026, a large stockpile of chemically treated railroad ties caught fire in Dunnellon near E. McKinney Street and N. Williams Street. Local officials said the fire began around 2:45 a.m. and strong winds helped spread the fire along the rail line.
The ties involved were treated with creosote, a wood preservative commonly used for railroad ties. Crews and emergency managers have emphasized that burning creosote-treated wood can create heavy, irritating smoke and raises environmental concerns.
Officials later reported the fire was contained, though smoke and odors may linger.
What we know (verified facts so far)
What burned
A large stockpile of railroad ties treated with creosote. Creosote is a pesticide/wood preservative used outdoors (railroad ties, utility poles) and is derived from tar distillation.
Where and when
Near E. McKinney St. and N. Williams St. in Dunnellon. Reported start time: ~2:45 a.m. Feb. 1, 2026.
Official response & current status
Marion County Fire Rescue Marion County Fire Rescue responded and worked the incident as a public-safety and potential environmental issue because of smoke and contamination risks. The fire was reported contained, with ongoing attention to air testing first, then other environmental concerns including water pollution.
What caused it
As of the latest reporting, the cause has not been released / remains undetermined.
Why creosote smoke and runoff matter
When creosote-treated wood burns, it can produce thick, irritating smoke and release harmful combustion byproducts. That is why responders urged residents to avoid the area and keep doors/windows closed.
Separately, creosote behaves more like an oily, tar-like material than ordinary wood. A key risk in suppression is contaminated runoff—water used to fight the fire can pick up pollutants and move them into stormwater systems, wetlands, soil, and waterways if not contained. Concerns about runoff reaching the Rainbow River watershed Rainbow River were explicitly raised in public reporting and prior fire-service warnings.
What water could be affected (based on the site and known drainage concerns)
No agency has publicly confirmed water contamination yet (testing and assessment are part of the ongoing response).
But based on what officials and reporting flagged as plausible pathways, here are the most relevant water resources to watch:
Nearby stormwater ditches/culverts and low-lying wetlands near the rail corridor (these can move runoff quickly during suppression or rain). The Rainbow River watershed (named in warnings as a concern if contaminated runoff is generated). Connected local surface waters around Dunnellon, including areas tied to recreation (e.g., Rainbow Springs State Park Rainbow Springs State Park) and the broader river system.
What this means for Rainbow Lakes Estates (practically):
If you’re on a private well, immediate risk is usually lower than for surface water, but not zero over time—groundwater impacts (if any) tend to be delayed and depend on whether contaminants reach soils that connect to the aquifer. The near-term concern is more about smoke exposure and keeping children/pets away from soot/ash fallout, plus watching for any official advisories about waterways used for swimming/kayaking/fishing.
Which towns/neighborhoods could be affected by smoke (based on wind)
Smoke impact depends heavily on wind direction and speed at the time and can shift hour to hour.
What the wind was doing today (most defensible, sourced)
The National Weather Service National Weather Service forecast for Dunnellon on Feb. 1 showed breezy northwest winds (about 11–15 mph with higher gusts) during the day.
A wind from the northwest generally pushes smoke toward the southeast/east-southeast of the fire.
Likely downwind areas (directional, not a guarantee)
If winds are NW → SE, the places most likely to see smoke drift are:
Dunnellon (especially areas southeast/east of the rail corridor) Neighborhoods and rural areas SE/ESE of Dunnellon, potentially reaching parts of the broader Marion County corridor depending on plume height and mixing.
What about Rainbow Lakes Estates?
Rainbow Lakes Estates is not necessarily in the primary downwind line under NW winds; however:
Smoke can still reach you during wind shifts, calm periods (smoke settling), or when winds turn more westerly/southwesterly. Because responders noted strong winds helped spread the fire, smoke could have been blown in varying directions during the incident.
If you’re smelling strong odor or seeing haze, treat that as a real exposure signal even if you’re “upwind on paper.”
What residents can do right now (high-signal, low-regret steps)
These match or extend official guidance without speculating:
Reduce smoke exposure Keep windows/doors closed. Run HVAC on recirculate if possible; consider a HEPA air purifier in a main room if smoke is noticeable. Limit contact with soot/ash Keep kids/pets from playing in visible ash. If ash is on outdoor furniture/vehicles, wet-wipe or hose gently (don’t dry-sweep into the air). Be cautious with nearby waterways If you recreate on the Rainbow River or connected waters, consider postponing until agencies report results of their environmental checks. Track official updates Marion County Fire Rescue and the Marion County Sheriff’s Office posts have carried public-safety messages and updates. The Florida Department of Environmental Protection Florida Department of Environmental Protection presence on-scene was reported as part of the post-containment assessment.
Bottom line
This was not a train derailment in current reporting; it was a fire involving a stockpile of creosote-treated railroad ties. Cause has not been released as of the latest updates. The two big concerns are toxic/irritating smoke and potential contaminated runoff, with officials indicating air testing first and then evaluating water/environmental impacts. With northwest winds reported in the forecast, smoke would most often drift southeast/east-southeast, but local shifts can still affect Rainbow Lakes Estates.
January Milestones, Gallery News & Upcoming Shows
Fine Art & Conservation Photography by Zsuzsanna Luciano Master Photographer
January was a big month — and I’m excited to share what’s been happening and what’s ahead!
Celebrating a Major Milestone
I’m thrilled to share that in January I received my Master Photographer degree from Professional Photographers of America (PPA) in Nashville. This has been a long-term goal and a deeply meaningful moment in my photographic journey. I’m incredibly grateful for the support, encouragement, and community that helped make this possible.
Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it. This moment represents years of growth, perseverance, and the incredible people who supported me along the way.
This moment is about more than a medal — it’s about the people who believed in me, supported me, and celebrated right alongside me.
Looking ahead, I plan to bring the artistry and craft behind this achievement into every image I create and every teaching experience I offer.
Gallery News — Dunnellon, Florida
I’m also delighted to announce that I’ve joined Rainbow Springs Art Gallery in Dunnellon, FL. My work is now part of their permanent display, and I’m honored to be represented by such a wonderful local gallery.
Coming soon: beginning March 5, I’ll be teaching a photography class right at the gallery! This is a chance for you to dive deeper into the art of photography, refine your skills, and explore creative expression. I’ll share registration details and more information soon — I’d love to see you there.
Where art, nature, and storytelling meet.
Where You Can Find Me & My Work
Here’s my February & March show schedule — I hope to see you at one of these art festivals and events!
Jan 31–Feb 1, 2026 — 51st Annual Mount Dora Art Festival
Feb 7–8, 2026 — 38th Annual Downtown Sarasota Art Festival
Feb 14–15, 2026 — 20th Anniversary Coconut Point Art Festival
Feb 20, 2026 — New Artist Reception at Rainbow Springs Art Gallery
Feb 21–22, 2026 — 60th Key West Arts & Crafts Festival
Feb 28–Mar 1, 2026 — 38th Annual Las Olas Art Fair Part II
Mar 7–8, 2026 — 36th Annual Art Fest by the Sea
Mar 14–15, 2026 — 4th Annual Downtown Sarasota Fine Art & Craft Fair
I’ll also be sharing reminders and behind-the-scenes moments on social media — follow along for updates, visuals, and more.
Thank You for Being Here
Your support means the world to me. Whether you’ve subscribed, visited a show, sent a kind message, or followed along on social media — thank you for being part of this creative journey.
If you have questions about the gallery, upcoming teaching opportunities, events, or my photography, I’d love to hear from you!
Connect With Me
Riding the River Into the New Year
The New Year did not arrive for me with fireworks or sudden resolutions.
It arrived quietly, carrying the weight of a long season of healing.
Both of my knees were injured last May—meniscus tears that turned ordinary movement into something slow, deliberate, and often painful. Healing has not been linear. It has been humbling. Some days my body whispered patience; other days it demanded it. I still cannot run. And yet, in that limitation, life kept inviting me forward.
Summer arrived anyway.
It was bittersweet. Hiking—one of my greatest joys—was reduced to shorter, carefully measured trails. There was inflammation, swelling, and the constant negotiation with pain. But instead of focusing on what I lost, I learned to ask a different question: How fully can I still show up?
The answer surprised me.
We traveled. We explored. We laughed. I maximized every return on effort—not by pushing harder, but by being more present. Family adventures unfolded that I will carry with me forever. New photographic editions emerged by the dozens. Chicago-area art festivals filled my calendar, not as obligations, but as celebrations of connection and creativity.
And then there was Yellowstone.
Something ancient awakened there. I made discoveries that felt less like photographs and more like conversations—with land, with light, with time itself. I fell in love with grizzlies, not as symbols of power, but as teachers of presence and respect. Later, in Sturgis, I created a photojournal of biker characters—raw, human, unapologetically themselves. Different worlds, same truth: authenticity always leaves a mark.
All of that work—every mile walked slowly, every image created through discomfort—quietly bore fruit. Those summer discoveries carried me across the finish line for my final three merits with PPA. They led me to something I had worked toward for years: the Master Photographer title, awarded by the oldest nonprofit photography organization in our field.
Not as a finish line—but as a confirmation.
As if that weren’t enough, just yesterday an email arrived from Rainbow Springs Art, our local gallery in Dunnellon. They accepted my work for permanent exhibition. Beyond the honor, what moved me most was who they are: an organized, talented, generous community of artists. They even offer a classroom within the gallery—and when I proposed teaching photography on location, they welcomed both the idea and my curriculum immediately.
The doors are opening because I am ready to walk through them—calmly.
Today, I’m sitting at the Palm Beach Gardens show, talking with customers, sharing stories of travel, wildlife, resilience, and art. There is an unexpected peace here. On Tuesday, I will walk a stage in Nashville, Tennessee, to receive that Master of Photography title—and instead of nerves, I feel grounded gratitude.
This year, I made myself a promise:
I will not let a single day—or a single opportunity—slip by unnoticed.
I will ride this great river of life at whatever speed it asks of me—fast when it surges, slow when it teaches.
We are leaving behind the Year of the Snake and entering the Year of the Fire Horse.
And yes—I feel on fire.
Not the frantic kind of fire, but the steady burn of purpose. Something in my core is brighter now. I finally understand why I must share my passion—not to impress, but to illuminate.
We are not here to suffer through life.
We are here to evolve.
Suffering and pain are inevitable. But meaning is a choice. Growth is a direction. I share my struggles not for pity, but for truth—so you can see that even in the darkest seasons, nothing is wasted. Everything has its place.
Piece by piece.
Discovery by discovery.
Lesson by lesson.
I may not be able to run right now—but I discovered swimming. I discovered flow. I discovered trust.
And perhaps that is the real mastery:
Not conquering pain—but allowing it to guide us toward a deeper alignment with who we are becoming.
Here’s to the river.
Here’s to the fire.
Here’s to a year lived fully—exactly as it unfolds.
Three Final Merits & a Lifelong Dream: I’m Now a PPA Master Photographer
I’m thrilled (and a little stunned) to finally type these words:
Professional Photographers of America (PPA) has awarded me the Master of Photography degree.
This degree represents the highest level of image-making excellence that PPA recognizes, and it was completed by the last three Merits I earned this year for my night-sky images:
Beacon of the Infinite Echoes of Eternity Ethereal Descent
In January 2026, at Imaging USA in Nashville, TN, PPA President Mark Campbell, M.Photog.Hon.M.Photog.Cr., CPP, API will officially present the degree. I’ll be walking across that stage carrying not just a medallion, but nearly two decades of hard work, travel, late nights, and faith in the power of photography.
What the Master of Photography Degree Means
The Master of Photography degree is an achievement of the highest caliber. It means the artist has met the standards of excellence set by PPA, earning Merits through image excellence, advanced education, and service to the profession.
For me, this degree says:
My images have consistently met a national standard of craftsmanship and storytelling. I’ve invested deeply in education, competition, and the community of photographers who push each other to grow. My work in conservation-focused fine art is recognized among a select group of photographers committed to elevating the craft.
It’s an honor to see Luciano alongside other Masters and to know that these images—born under dark skies and in wild places—have carried me there.
The Three Merit Images That Completed the Journey
Each of these black-and-white nightscapes earned a Merit in the 2025 PPA Merit Image Review, and together they completed my requirements for the Master Photographer degree.
⭐ Beacon of the Infinite
A lighthouse in Door County, its beam cutting into the Milky Way like a prayer made of light.
This image captures what I feel during my midnight sessions on the shoreline: the sense that we are tiny, yet deeply connected to something far larger and more mysterious than ourselves.
⭐ Echoes of Eternity
Photographed in Yellowstone’s Grand Canyon, where the waterfall roars through the heart of the earth while the Milky Way rises silently above.
The contrast between that tremendous sound and the stillness of the stars made the scene feel timeless—like the land itself was remembering.
⭐ Ethereal Descent
Silky, long-exposure waterfalls pouring through the frame under a canopy of stars.
Water becomes mist, motion becomes sculpture, and the night sky crowns it all. This piece feels like a bridge between earth and sky, gravity and grace.
These three images aren’t just photographs; they are the distilled essence of years of seeking out dark skies, driving thousands of miles with my family, and refusing to let go of a dream—even when I was sore, exhausted, or doubting myself.
A Personal Milestone in a Bigger Story
If you’ve followed my work, you know my heart is in conservation photography—using art to help people fall in love with the wild world so fiercely that they feel compelled to protect it.
Earning the PPA Master of Photography degree doesn’t change that mission; it strengthens it. It tells galleries, collectors, and conservation partners that this work stands on a foundation of professional excellence as well as passion.
To my husband and son, who’ve camped, driven, hiked, and stayed up through many freezing, mosquito-filled nights so I could chase starlight—this degree belongs to you, too.
To my collectors, festival visitors, and fellow photographers—thank you for believing in this path with me.
Who Is PPA?
For those who don’t know, Professional Photographers of America (PPA) is the largest and longest-standing nonprofit photography trade association in the world. Founded in 1868, PPA now supports over 35,000 professionals with education, resources, and advocacy—always working to bridge the gap between photographers and the people we serve.
I’m proud to be part of that community and even prouder to carry the title Master Photographer within it.
Thank you for celebrating this milestone with me.
The next chapter is already forming under the stars—and I can’t wait to share what comes next.
– Zsuzsanna Luciano
Master Photographer
EquiShui, Where Healing Begins With Horses
For me, the journey began behind the lens.
Standing in the quiet fields of Central Florida with a camera in my hands, I thought I was simply there to photograph horses — their movement, their spirit, their beauty.
“Strength wrapped in stillness.
This rescued stallion carries the story of survival and surrender — the wild heart that chose peace.
In his calm gaze lives the power of every horse who has learned to trust again.”
But as each horse stepped toward me, something unexpected happened.
Their presence softened places inside me I didn’t know were still hurting.
Their calm steadiness touched wounds from a childhood shaped by fear and silence.
And with every shutter click, I felt a piece of my own story lift, breathe, and release.
One photograph at a time, these horses helping me heal.
And as I witnessed them — survivors of their own pasts — learning to trust again, it felt as if our journeys were mirroring each other.
The horses were healing.
And so was I.
Where Healing Begins With Horses
In the quiet fields of Central Florida, a herd of extraordinary horses is rewriting what it means to transform trauma into healing. Their stories begin long before they arrived at Windhorse Stables, where the land opens wide and the energy feels ancient — a place where the horses are not just cared for, but honored.
Many of these horses carry a Native American lineage, known for intuition, sensitivity, and spiritual presence. They are survivors of difficult pasts, each with their own journey, each with a heart still open to connection. Today, they are the soul of a growing sanctuary whose mission is rooted in harmony, energy, balance, and a simple guiding truth.
“Grace in motion, strength in stillness.
This rescue horse runs not from fear but toward freedom — a living symbol of resilience and renewal.
Each stride carries the memory of survival and the promise of peace.”
Horses With a Purpose
Some of the horses arrived thin, wary, or wounded in spirit.
Others carried the unmistakable qualities of wild ancestry —
watchful eyes, powerful bodies, and the ability to read emotion before it’s ever spoken.
But here, everything changed.
At Windhorse Stables, they found safety.
They found space.
And they found trust.
Now these magnificent animals are stepping into new roles as partners in Equine Assisted Learning, through the non-profit EquiShui, helping people reconnect with themselves through presence, grounding, and the simple truth that horses never pretend. They respond to energy, sincerity, intention — and that is why the work is so powerful.
“Where words fall away, understanding begins.
In the quiet light of morning, a rescued horse leans into human touch — a moment of trust reborn.
At the EquiShui Sanctuary, healing flows both ways: from hand to heart, from horse to human.”
The Heart of EquiShui
The nonprofit EquiShui was inspired by the blending of two ancient philosophies:
Equine wisdom Feng Shui, which promotes peace, prosperity, and well-being
Together, they shape a healing approach where the horse becomes a mirror, a guide, and a calming force.
No words needed — just breath, space, and connection.
Through EquiShui, visitors may experience:
Mindfulness sessions among the herd Equine-assisted emotional processing Quiet meditation in the grove Herd-observation and natural communication
Here, horses choose how they participate.
Their emotional wellbeing and consent come first.
Raising Awareness for America’s Wild Horses
Across North America, wild horses face challenges that threaten their survival — shrinking habitats, roundups, and the loss of their natural way of life.
EquiShui is committed to raising awareness for:
The fragile future of wild herds The need for humane, ethical solutions The importance of protecting free-roaming horses
The EquiShui horses’ stories inspire advocacy, empathy, and action.
When we help horses, horses help the people.
The EquiShui motto is:
“Helping horses, helping people… one stride at a time.”
Healing, One Stride at a Time
Healing unfolds in quiet, powerful moments:
A horse lowering its head into a human hand.
Two mares stepping together into the golden light.
A once-fearful stallion lifting his gaze with renewed confidence.
These moments cannot be forced — they rise when hearts align.
This is the magic and mission of EquiShui.
And this is only the beginning.
“Together they walk toward the light — survivors, companions, healers.
These two rescued horses now roam freely at the EquiShui Sanctuary, where every sunrise brings a new beginning.
Their strength reminds us that healing is not just possible — it’s contagious.”
🌿 Support the Horses of EquiShui
Your contribution directly supports:
Feed and hay, Veterinary care, Safe fencing and shelter, Ethical training, Community healing programs, Advocacy for wild horse protection.
Every donation helps these horses continue what they were meant to do:
to heal, to teach, and to inspire.
“Eyes that have seen both freedom and fear — and now, peace.
“Imagine: Where the City Meets the Stars”
Reflections from the 60th Space Coast Art Festival
This past weekend at the 60th Space Coast Art Festival, I experienced one of those moments that fill your heart with gratitude and reaffirm why you create in the first place. My photograph “Imagine” — a Chicago cityscape crowned by the Milky Way — was selected by the jury for final judging, and on Sunday morning, I learned it had received an Award of Merit.
Zsuzsanna Luciano smiles while holding her “Award of Merit” ribbon toward the camera, standing in front of her artwork “Imagine” — a striking photograph of Chicago’s Cloud Gate (“The Bean”) beneath the Milky Way. The reflection of the sky and city buildings shimmers across the glossy surface, symbolizing the harmony between urban light and the star-filled night.
To say I was overjoyed would be an understatement. But beyond the recognition, what truly moved me was the reaction of people who stopped in front of the piece. Many stood in silence. Some whispered “Is that real?” Others smiled and said, “I’ve never seen stars like that.”
And that — right there — is why I created Imagine.
A Dialogue Between Earth and Sky
I have always believed that the night sky speaks a language of connection. Every star, every faint wisp of cosmic light, is a reminder of how small we are and how magnificent the universe is. It humbles us, inspires us, and invites us to look beyond the boundaries of our everyday lives.
Photographing the Milky Way over a city like Chicago is not an easy task — it’s both a technical challenge and a metaphorical one. Cities pulse with energy, noise, and light, while the Milky Way thrives in silence and darkness. To bring them together is to imagine balance — harmony between human creation and the timeless expanse of the cosmos.
That’s what Imagine represents to me: a bridge between the modern world and the eternal sky.
The Vanishing Darkness
Sadly, true darkness is disappearing. Over 80% of people in the world live under light-polluted skies. Many children grow up never seeing the Milky Way at all — never experiencing that quiet awe that has guided dreamers, artists, and explorers since the dawn of time.
Light pollution doesn’t just steal our stars. It disrupts ecosystems, confuses migratory birds, affects nocturnal animals, and even impacts our own circadian rhythms. The glow of artificial light has slowly dimmed one of the oldest forms of human connection — our relationship with the night sky.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. With awareness and simple changes — shielding outdoor lights, using warmer tones, turning off unnecessary illumination — we can preserve our right to starlight.
Why I Keep Looking Up
Every time I photograph the night, whether in Yellowstone, the Tetons, or along the shores of Lake Michigan, I feel the same childlike wonder I felt the first time I saw the Milky Way. It’s not just about the photograph — it’s about the experience. Standing in the dark, hearing the whisper of the wind, feeling the rhythm of the earth beneath your feet — it reminds you that you belong to something infinite.
That feeling is what I hope to share through my work. When someone looks at Imagine, I want them to feel that connection — to remember that we are all part of the same universe, stitched together by light that has traveled thousands of years to reach us.
Gratitude and Hope
I am deeply grateful to the Space Coast Art Festival jury for recognizing Imagine with an Award of Merit, and to every person who stopped to look up — both at my photograph and, hopefully, at the real night sky when they went home.
May we continue to protect the beauty of darkness, celebrate the light of the stars, and never stop imagining a world where both can coexist.
✨
— Zsuzsanna Luciano
Zsuzsanna Luciano stands smiling in front of her art display at the 60th Space Coast Art Festival, proudly holding her Award of Merit ribbon. Behind her hangs her large photographic artwork titled “Imagine,” depicting Chicago’s Cloud Gate (“The Bean”) under a stunning Milky Way sky, symbolizing the union of city lights and starlight. Additional night-sky and waterfall photographs are displayed below, all printed on glossy aluminum panels within her booth.
💍 25 év közös kincsvadászat
A mai nap nem egészen úgy alakult, ahogy terveztük – és mégis, pont így lett igazán mi.
Előre lefoglaltuk a hajóutat egy szigeti kagylógyűjtésre, de útközben jött a hívás: a túrát le kellett mondani, mert hatalmas vihar alakult ki a Mexikói-öböl felett.
De ahelyett, hogy a vihar elűzött volna minket, mi üldözni kezdtük őt!
Gyorsan irányt változtattunk, és elmentünk a Honeymoon-szigetre, ahol a drámai égbolt igazi mesterművet festett a hullámok fölé. A mennydörgés és a sós szél közepette kincseket keresve sétáltunk a parton – tetőtől talpig elázva, nevetve, élettel telve.
Amikor a vihar végül elcsendesedett, az ég ajándékba adott nekünk egy szivárványt és egy naplementét – tökéletes jelképe annak, amit 25 év alatt együtt megéltünk: fény az eső után, szépség minden viharban.
Az estét egy meghitt vacsorával zártuk – tele nevetéssel, melegséggel és hálával. Ideális hangulat a 25. ezüstlakodalmunk megünneplésére.
És mert minden kaland megérdemel egy kis csavart, a nap végén moziba mentünk, ahol a Tron című izgalmas, kalandos filmet néztük meg – tökéletes befejezés egy naphoz, amely ismét emlékeztetett bennünket, mennyire szeretünk együtt felfedezni.
Hazafelé boldogan, elégedetten, lelkünkben és zsebünkben a nap kincseivel tértünk meg.
Íme 25 év szeretet, nevetés és kaland, és még megannyi felfedeznivaló horizont előttünk. ❤️✨
#Ezüstlakodalom #25ÉvEgyütt #HoneymoonIsland #Viharkeresők #Kincsvadászok #LucianoKalandok #ÖrökkéMi
💍 25 Years of Treasure Hunting Together
Today didn’t go quite as planned — and yet, it turned out perfectly us.
We had reservations for an island shelling boat ride, but as we were driving there, the phone rang: the trip was canceled due to a large storm developing over the Gulf of Mexico.
Instead of letting the storm chase us away, we chased it!
We quickly adjusted our plan and headed to Honeymoon Island, where the moody sky painted a masterpiece above the waves. Between thunder rumbles and salty wind, we wandered the shore treasure-hunting as the rain soaked us head to toe — laughing, drenched, and completely alive.
When the storm finally softened, the sky gifted us a rainbow and a glowing sunset — a perfect symbol of our 25 years together: light after rain, beauty through every storm.
We wrapped up our evening with a cozy dinner, filled with warmth, laughter, and quiet gratitude — the perfect atmosphere to celebrate our silver wedding anniversary.
And because every adventure deserves a twist, we finished the night at the movie theater, watching Tron — an unexpected, electric finale to a day that reminded us how much we love our shared adventures.
We came home fulfilled — hearts full, spirits renewed, pockets (and souls) filled with treasures of the day.
Here’s to 25 years of love, laughter, and adventure… and to all the new horizons ahead of us. ❤️✨
#SilverAnniversary #25YearsTogether #HoneymoonIsland #StormChasers #TreasureHunters #LucianoAdventures #ForeverUs
Florida’s Black Bears in October: A Season of Urgency and Abundance
“The golden light of fall catches the sheen of a bear’s coat — a reminder that even in Florida’s warmth, nature prepares for change.”
October in Florida is a month of transition—not only for people trading swimsuits for light jackets, but for the state’s black bears, who enter a season of intense preparation. As the air turns slightly cooler and the daylight shortens, these wild residents of Florida’s forests, hammocks, and swamps shift their focus entirely to one thing: food.
Feeding for the Future
Unlike their northern relatives, Florida black bears don’t face months of deep snow or a long, frozen winter. Still, they instinctively prepare for leaner times by entering a phase called hyperphagia—a biological frenzy of eating. During October, a bear’s day is ruled by its stomach. They spend up to 20 hours foraging, searching tirelessly for high-calorie foods to build fat reserves that will sustain them through the cooler months when natural food becomes scarce.
In Florida’s oak and palmetto forests, acorns become the prized treasure. Bears crunch through the underbrush searching for patches of fallen nuts, sometimes traveling miles between feeding spots. They also feast on saw palmetto berries, wild grapes, beautyberries, and the last persimmons of the season. Opportunistic and highly adaptable, a bear will also dig for grubs, raid anthills, or peel bark for beetle larvae. Every calorie counts.
Solitary Wanderers with Overlapping Paths
Florida black bears are mostly solitary by nature, but during this time, their paths cross more often than usual. When food is abundant, multiple bears may feed in the same area with a quiet tolerance for each other. You can almost sense an unspoken truce—a mutual understanding that October’s bounty won’t last forever.
Mothers with cubs often stay close to reliable feeding zones, teaching their young where to find seasonal foods and how to prepare for the coming months. Young males, on the other hand, begin wandering farther—sometimes covering dozens of miles—to establish their own ranges. This seasonal wandering often brings bears closer to human communities, especially in suburban areas where trash cans and fruit trees mimic easy natural meals.
“Florida’s bears are excellent climbers — they’ll scale trees to escape danger, nap in the canopy, or scout for ripe fruit.”
The Conservation Challenge
For wildlife biologists and conservationists, October is a reminder of how crucial natural food sources are to the bears’ survival. When forests produce good mast crops—especially acorns and palmetto berries—bears stay deep in the woods. But in poor crop years, they’re more likely to follow their noses into neighborhoods. This is when education and coexistence matter most.
Securing garbage, removing bird feeders, and harvesting fruit from backyard trees may seem small, but they’re acts of conservation. Every human choice that keeps bears wild and wary helps preserve not only their safety but also the delicate balance of Florida’s wild spaces.
A Quiet Pause Before Winter
By late October, as the bear’s body grows heavier and their fur thickens, the pace begins to slow. In some northern parts of the state, they’ll retreat to sheltered dens—under fallen logs, in dense thickets, or beneath the roots of old trees. In the subtropics, where winter is mild, many remain active year-round, emerging on warm days to forage or explore. But even there, a calm descends over the forests—a sense that the rush of the season has passed.
Florida’s black bears remind us that even in the heat of the South, the rhythms of nature endure. Their October dance of hunger and preparation is as old as the land itself—a story of resilience, adaptation, and the quiet intelligence of wild creatures who still find a way to thrive in a rapidly changing world.
“A Florida black bear on the move — October’s mission: eat, explore, repeat.”
Luciano Photography 