A sawgrass prairie where the horizon is lower than anywhere else in this guide, and the sky is nine-tenths of every photograph.
A concrete box with a geodesic glass bulge on the St. Petersburg waterfront. The building is either the background or the subject, and it cannot be both.
Formal gardens stepping down to the St. Johns River, at the northern end of Florida where the oaks are larger and the year actually has four parts.
Japanese gardens in south Florida, where the design itself tells you where to stand — and one frame that uses it exactly as intended.
A tropical botanic garden where the planting is organised by family — which means the quality of shade changes completely from one section to the next.
A west-facing Gulf resort where the sunset is both the reason people come and the hardest lighting problem on the property.
An Atlantic-facing resort on a barrier island off Miami — which means the sun comes out of the water, not down into it.
A 1920s hotel on the downtown St. Petersburg waterfront, and one frame that needs the building's lights and the sky to sit a stop apart.
A large pink building on a white Gulf beach. The colour is not a detail; in low sun it becomes the light itself.
A bayfront estate on Sarasota Bay — a Venetian Gothic house, a colonnaded museum courtyard, and a west-facing shore that gives the sun to the water.