Honor System, July 2025
This is my favorite way to buy fresh produce and support local farmers. Pay on the honor system. Choose a melon. Put money in the red lock box. Put a few extra dollars in—if you stay and take pictures. Always carry $10 in ones if you think you might stop at produce stands along Route 301. This is really good advice.
Braehead Farm, July 2025
I’ve taken some version of this picture several times over the last few summers. The photo varies based on where the farmer plants the flower field. This year it’s in a perfect spot, photographically speaking. With the silo and barn in the background. It’s not easy to photograph Zinnias or Black-eye Susans on a hot summer day. Those bright colors, richly saturated, can appear as big blobs of colors when recorded on a digital sensor. It takes a little finesse to edit this type of photo so that the color is still vibrant and the details become visible. I’m never quite sure I’ve got it right, but I love trying.
Taking the same picture over and over reminds me of a lesson I’ve learned. My whole life can change in a year. I know now that I deserve to live a life that is mine. Full of lightness, full of choice, full of the love I never expected but always knew I needed.
Ship in a Bottle, July 2025
One of the frustrating elements of creating a photo book is that there will always be something you’d like to add or change AFTER the book has been sent to print. This is the nature of the work and something I accept. I’m not even sure this image would have worked in A Guidebook for Small Travels, but it sure looks like a good fit. After all, what’s more small + travel than a ship in a bottle. Turns out, it is actually quite difficult to photograph through glass in this way. There’s some kind of wavy distortion thing going on (which I will look up since I am a science nerd). But I kinda like it. It feels like a mirage or an impression of travel rather than the sharp focus of a definite destination. And maybe that’s exactly what the best travels give us . . . a change of perspective.
Deconstructed Breakfast Burrito, July 2025
Just because my breakfast tasted delicious and felt satisfying and didn’t upset my sensitive GI system. And just because I love supporting a local business. And just because the vendors at the Farmers Market are helpful and kind and don’t mind my taking pictures. And just because I love making things.
And even though I was still in my pajamas. And even though I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth or my hair (who am I kidding, I never brush my hair). And even though I have “real” work to do on my list for today. And even though I worry that more still life images are somehow not enough, somehow too predictable, and too easy. And even though I really should be doing my daily exercises (and I haven’t for days).
I took this picture (and 30 more that were incredibly similar save for small variations in light as the sun peeked over and around and through the trees in my front yard). I had an impulse to take such a photo as I was eating my breakfast. I wanted to thank the fine cook who made the salsa and baked the sourdough tortillas so that I could be happy and fed. I wanted to reach out and give her a hug, and taking this photo seemed the next best thing. For a short while, I pretend that I am a product photographer. Except that I do not have a client to please. And this is not a job, so I will not be paid. And the only vision to consider is my own. And I think maybe she will like this picture and she will like knowing that someone appreciates all that she does and all that she is. Because I like it when someone does this for me. I email the picture to her.
It’s not complicated. When we feel loved and cared for, it’s easier to love and care for others. And when we act out, it’s most often because we are sad and hurt, and we feel overwhelmed by that pain. But making something is like a way to silence that alarm. And a really beautiful way to begin this day.
Tortillas and Salsa, July 2025