"Shed of autumn's garb,

posturing, a quiet landscape

awaits winter."

~ Paul Rogers

     STICK SEASON, an on-going Vermont photographic project, refers to the leafless season between fall foliage and the first lasting snow of winter. Working statewide during this transitional period (generally the month of November), Vermont native PAUL ROGERS (BFA, School of Photographic Arts and Sciences at Rochester Institute of Technology, 1982) documents natural and man-made landscapes, people, and cultural activities.These photos are his visual observations on Vermont in this season.

    Stylistically, the work tends toward the documentary - including the photographer's choice to neither add nor subtract (or reposition) subjects, either in the scene or in post-production. Some perspective corrections are made in architectural subjects, and some panoramas are merged from multiple images. Please browse his 12 year Stick Season gallery.

    This page is accessible through stickseason.com, but is more user-friendly through paulrogersphotography.com. Thanks for visiting!

   Portfolios of Paul's Stick Season photos were printed in the Winter 2014-15 (pp. 96-101) and Summer 2019 (pp. 98-103) issues of Stowe Guide & Magazine, published by Greg Popa and the Stowe Reporter. You may see them online by clicking on the magazine images below.

Stick Season Sampler

Stowe Guide & Magazine Winter 2014-15 (view on Issuu)                          Stowe Guide & Magazine Summer 2019 (view on Issuu)  

My November Guest, by Robert Frost

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be;

She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:

She's glad the birds are gone away,

She's glad her simple worsted gray

Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,

The beauties she so truly sees,

She thinks I have no eye for these,

And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow,

But it were vain to tell her so,

And they are better for her praise.