Throwback

I took this photo towards the beginning of the summer. My son came with me on a family shoot I had scheduled weeks prior and the weather was too nice to leave him at home - even though he wasn't super interested in coming with me.

I love stumbling across photos you forgot about...old ones and new ones. It sharpens the memories a little more so they aren't lost in the back of my mind as I shop for groceries or schedule vet appointments. These overlooked little gems are like tiny diamonds, once again cutting open that forgotten pathway to my heart.

Looking back at this photo, I can almost smell the ocean. I can feel the humid evening wind as it gently tousles his hair to and fro. I can remember the milky light that evening and the warmth of the sea. It all just comes back - melting into one memory and sealing it's way into my heart once again.

By the sea

We are happy by the sea.
Just you and me.
And a friend
or three.
Let's stay here and dance
in the waves
and romance
the notion of better days
and better nights ahead.
 

Thirteen

Here we are again...another year has gone, tucked away into our memories now. Hidden behind Christmases, vacations and birthdays and beachtrips. These days that pass often seem so long when we are in the middle of them while life steals precious seconds away from us. But our years together seem much too short for my aching heart as I watch you change overnight these days.

You are 13 now. Thirteen. Well on your way to becoming a man. No longer the little baby I held so close all those terribly short and fleeting years.

Where did it all go? It slipped by us in a flash, didn't it?  Karate lessons, school projects and carpool have given way to the young man I am looking at everyday now. Years slip by too quickly. But they have yielded a lovely and empathetic boy who is growing and already taller than me. It doesn't seem possible. This is never what I imagined. Yet, here we are. At thirteen.

I am not sure where we go from here. I am not sure what the next years look like. I fear the speed will start to pick up at a pace I cannot keep up with. Soon, college will be looming and I will not know what happened to these sweet, long days filled with cartoons and and too many screens. I will wonder why I didn't drag you kicking and screaming to the beach to watch more sunsets and let the warm waves wash over us. I will wonder how I have known you for so long, yet is seems like yesterday they handed me the chunky little baby who didn't look at all like a newborn in that hospital room all those years ago. Thirteen years ago.

Thirteen is new territory. It marks a definite change in things...in you. No longer a little boy. But yet not quite grown up. I stand here clinging to the past, yet so excited to see what the future holds for you. I know it will be filled with love and joy and strength - just as you are.

I hope this world doesn't change you too much. I hope you remember to stay as you are -  strong yet soft, curious and cautious, big with the knowledge of how small you really are in the grand scheme of it all. Mostly, I hope you remember all these wonderful gifts you have carried since birth. You have so many gifts - and they are far too big for wrappings and bows. They are real. They are what counts.

Today, I wish for you to blow out the candles on your cake and dream big. Make it count. And don't let anyone tell you that you can't have those dreams - not even me. Especially not me! I am sure I will do it. We parents make silly mistakes. We have our fears and beliefs. And we try to protect you from them as well. But those dreams are yours. Own them! They are real. Today is the day to start believing that. Today is the day to start believing in yourself even more than you ever have before. Because you are going to do great things. You are capable of anything.

Remember that I love you. There are 13 years between us on this planet, but an endless amount of years I have known you in my heart. And everyday, that love grows impossibly and exponentially bigger.

Happy Birthday, Graham. I am looking forward to every single long day and short year ahead.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

A photo of my dad - taken 12 years ago today.

It never gets easier. The hole is always there, waiting to be opened up again. It's all at the surface - or just below - waiting for me to trip across some memory. Waiting for me to remember how many days, weeks, months, years it's all been since we last held hands...since you last called me "Love."

Years. How can it be years?

It is though....long days yield their way to short years. And it still all feels so fresh.

But today - today we celebrate. Because if it wasn't for you, none of us would be here. Not these babies you held in your lap so proudly. Not me. Not my sweet house on a quiet street with the light fixture we wrestled with that hot afternoon that still hangs over the table - just a little dustier now. The memories wouldn't be here of swims in the warm, southern ocean or grilled fish in the evening sunlight in the sweet house by the sea.

Without you, I wouldn't care about golf or tennis. I wouldn't have memories of roller coasters or road trips. I wouldn't know about puzzles or checkers or cards or counting change from the dryer. Toasting bread in the fire on those long, northern winter nights never would have happened. And I never would have learned how to sled or shovel snow or cuss like a sailor when I stubbed my big toe.

Who would have taught me to ride a bike or swim or sing silly songs in the late afternoon light. Who would have tucked me in safe to bed each night when I was always wanting to stay up just a few more minutes. And who ever would I have loved as much as all the stars in the sky and grains of sand in the ocean?

So today, I rejoice in you, Dad. I remember the good and not the bad. I remember the joyful and the sad. We had such great times together - so much time I am grateful for.  I only wish we could have carried on that party a little bit longer, just a little bit later into the night...just a few more minutes.

Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss you ever so much.

Silver Linings

A gorgeous Lowcountry Sunset on James Island.

There are days that feel so hard and overwhelming that I spend the better part of them looking for some illusive silver lining. I wait so anxiously to get to the end of it so I can just see a tranquil sunset or find some moment of joy after the drudgery is over that I forget to appreciate what the struggle is teaching me.

Today has been one of those days. I am spinning my wheels, frustrated by circumstances instead of breathing into the lesson. It doesn't mean I can't look forward to the end of it to watch the sky turn magical hues of rainbow sherbert and cotton candy. It just means that maybe in these moments of pushing against, I should try breathing into it and surrendering to the lessons.

Maybe that's where the silver lining of my day is actually hidden - inside these little life lessons I have been trying to get through so quickly.

Time to breathe. And appreciate the day.

Part of my reality

It's funny to me how social media has changed our perspectives on reality. And I fall for it every time... "Why does their life look so amazing?" "Why am I not doing that?" "I need to step up my photography/life game." "They are SO lucky." Thoughts of an inadequate life rush into my head. Doubt begins to trump confidence and I stand on shaky ground.

Ironically, when I look back through my own Facebook photos and Instagram feed, I look like one of those people I seem to be wishing my life emulated. How can this be? What am I missing that I feel like my life doesn't look like this?

I think perhaps the reality of Life happens in between these delicious moments and take over the share of our brain. Laundry, grocery lists, and errands become front and center rather than these sweet spaces in between the shadows.

I know most of my life tends to look like a vacation according to Facebook. My Instagram account looks like a dream. And my Steller account make me appear to be the globe trotter I wish to become one day. But the reality is, that's only part of my reality. It just happens to be the parts I want to remember. I don't want my life to be a story of laundry and errands. I would much rather remember the lingering moments of joy that connect the rest.

Memory

Yesterday we went for a ride. It wasn't long. Or significant. It was just...different. We don't have a great neighborhood for biking and exploring. It's rather small and bordered by some busy streets which makes it hard for us to explore the rest of the surrounding areas. So I love getting out of here and doing something a little new. So yesterday, I decided we needed to ride bikes through the local county park for a change of scenery.

I haven't been doing nearly enough of this over the course of this summer...or even my life. And the older He gets, the more out of reach it all feels. But these days are fleeting. I have realized that more this summer than ever before. I can feel it coming like a summer storm over the horizon. He is getting older. Changing daily. He is becoming more and more weary of my company - as teenagers do. But I persist and demand...because I can. After all, this is part of the growing process, isn't it?

So while I struggled to push the pedals around on my rental with low tires, I watched him glide effortlessly in front of me, pointing to flora and fauna, asking questions, remarking on things, and speaking of things 13 year-old boys speak of. And I watched and listened and responded when I could. And struggled along behind, trying to keep up with him - as I feel will be the theme over the next 5 years. 

So now, the memory is there. It's permanent and locked away in my heart. Nothing can take it away. I may not remember the details surrounding it all. But I will remember the feeling I have today - happy I had a few more moments to steal. Happy to spend time with the one I love the most. Happy to be forever his momma - no matter what path life takes us down.

A Summer Walk

Scenes from a summertime walk. Sticky weather. Salty air. And sulfury smells.

I wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

Building Castles

“If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. ”

— Henry David Thoreau

Love in a Roadside Stand

One of the things I love most about rural America is good roadside stand. In California, I stumbled upon this crusty Russian gentleman selling all things nuts and dried fruits (and a few cold drinks out of coolers for weary summer hikers). He was passionate about his products and let us taste anything we wanted to. He had pride in his work and was excited to tell us about his locally sourced products the most. 

I love to see passionate people. The ones who are so passionate about their product, they will risk the elements to sell their wares. They are often the best you will find anywhere around...most likely because they put all they have into this one small thing to make it perfectly like no other. They find the best resources, put the most love into it and know all the secrets to make what they are selling the best around - be it the most prolific pecan tree or the best fishing hole around. They know their products.

That quality, passion and attention to detail are what can set whatever you are working on apart from the rest of the world. Whether you are a mom or a marketing genius, a farmer or a photographer...it's the love, pride and attention of what you are producing is what makes the final outcome something the rest of us can believe in.

So that, to me, boils down to one thing - love. That's it. Pour your heart in and get something great in return. It's as simple as that.

It's in the details.

If you ask me, I think it's the details that make any photoshoot where I am telling a story complete. But this is particularly true at a wedding. Those small shots. The close ups. The tiny sidebars that tell fill in the details on the bigger picture. I always felt like they were the most interesting part. They are adjectives in the stories and the subtle punctuation at the end of each sentence you tell as you recount the day.

Other parts come into play as well...candid shots and final edits really make it complete and set a tone. But those details make you remember what the day felt like, and most importantly - how you felt in it.

I approach much of my photography like this: How will I tell this story in a photograph? Often, the job is to capture the story in one shot, one portrait. So then, a detail shot just isn't the thing. But I still try to make sure - no matter what to story I am telling - that you come away with a feeling.

Maybe then, the details are in the feeling you get from a photograph. The feeling is the theme, the adjectives and the punctuation. The feelings are hidden in the cake toppers and the colors, the little hands holding the rings and the crazy groomsmen busting a move on the dance floor. The details are hidden in the smiles and the eyes of everyone I photograph...just waiting to tell their own story.

Welcome home.

I think I found heaven on earth on my little excursion to California last month. Rolling hills. Mountains. Creeks. Forests. Farms. The ocean. And wine(!). Our trip to California was lovely in so many different ways - the climate, the people, the geography, the food, the culture - even the work I was there for that didn't totally feel like work at all. I will forever try to be getting back to this very spot for the rest of my days - lingering in farm life, sipping wines, and watching sunsets paint the vineyards magical colors.

Oh California - I miss you so. Thanks for welcoming me home.

Everything is beauty full

Look around you. There is something beauty full right around you.

You just have to want to see it.

Summer

Summer is about sandy feet and naps on the beach. It's about long walks in the woods and long nights by the campfire. It's about sun and salt and sea air. Or fishing poles and lakeside docks. It's about kicking off those shoes and doing something different, breathing into the extra space of longer days and even longer nights.

It's summer. Live in it. Love in it. Just enjoy every bit of it.

Luck

I don't believe much in luck. Luck leaves your fate to chance and silly superstitions laden in black cats, 4 leaf clovers and pots of gold at the end of rainbows. You are not in control of luck. It's in control of you. It chooses when and where and undermines your confidence and belief in yourself. If you believe in luck, you believe in giving your power away.

I do believe in gratitude and hard work. I know that the power of confidence and simply believing in yourself can take you to places you could never dream of and to places luck only dreams of.

You are in control of your very own destiny. You have the choice to put yourself where you choose by telling yourself a story luck doesn't understand. You have the power to make your life happen the way you see it - without the help of some random chance that a patch of clover can deliver.

I believe in the combined power of hard work and dreams. Because that is where our greatness lies.

That is where our power is. Hiding underneath it all, blocked by luck.

Giants

It is humbling...the presence of these trees. To stand in the glory of a giant Redwood tree is to be in awe of life as I know it. Their ripened age, their sheer size, the history they have seen.... It's an incredible experience. Once that I knew on my recent trip to the West Coast I must experience again in my lifetime.

Deep in the forest there is such a silence. Yet through the quiet stillness, you feel the energy. Water runs, breezes blow, birds busily build their nests, and creatures crawl swiftly across the forest floor in search of their next meal or their next home.

And yet, there they are - these grand trees. These Redwoods. The giants of our living world. There they stand - still and stoic amongst the bustle of life all around then. There they stand, supporting us all in their quiet stillness while they provide, shelter, nourish, and nurture - never asking for a thing in return.

To me, this is where I feel alive and protected. This is where I feel safe and still. These giants can't fail me. They can only protect. I know this in my heart.

And as I walk out of the forest, I am sure I can hear their gentle voices through the breezy afternoon whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

Baby Love

Baby love. On the beach.

Sweet, sweet baby love. This shoot with Monica and her sweet family seems surreal in a way. I knew her when we were both single, young professionals and our lives were much, much different. Now here we are, years later, with kids of our own and families to take care of. It seems like a lifetime has gone by in a few short years.

Lucky for both of us, it's a lifetime of love and memories.

I see the World.

I see the World right here. It stops and I am paralyzed for a moment.

I see lost treasures and hidden coves with magic inside. I see undiscovered places and healing hearts not longing or wanting for anything at all in the world. Mostly, I see love and a belonging that is unparalleled.

My hope for us all is this - to simply see beauty and love and kindness in as many places as we can. And then, when we can't see it, we have to make it for ourselves and share it with the world.

Create love. And share it. Isn't it that simple?

The one shot

Last weekend, I got to shoot the most amazing wedding I have ever photographed - on an estate in the middle of vineyards in Sonoma. On every level, this day was perfect - all the details and elements just seemed to fall effortlessly into place that day (thanks to MANY busy people!) All of the delicate details of this event were perfect in every way.

For me, this shot is the defining photo of Nick and Milena's special day. The whole day seems to stand still right here in this moment. It represents all of the their beauty as individuals, all of the loveliness of their special day, and all the inspiration on their journey as a new couple and family.

For me it's this shot...the one shot. 

I guess I can give them a few more, though.

Congratulations, Nick and Meeps! I am so honored and grateful to have been a part of this.

Beach Days

Tousled beach hair. Prickly, sticky, salty air. Twisty wind and choppy waves.

We are definitely in the thick of summer's beachy days.