Remember your first fort?
Remember your first hideout? Mine was a tangle of laurel deep in the wonderland of my british backyard. Fairy bowls fashioned from the shells of rocksmashed walnuts and delicate floral arbors decorated the leaf littered floor. Entwined within knotty branches. I was invulnerable. It is a privilege to walk in the presence of the deep imaginings of childhood. I am grateful for the rare invitation.
Remember your first fort?
When I first met my husband’s parents I was terrified. His family plays cribbage. They don’t just play, they Play. It is serious. Every day. They were just so cool. I, on the other hand, don’t really play anything. Especially anything involving arithmetic. My heart would pound when I sat at the table. Will it be…
My father bought this kimono for me on my first trip to Japan when I was 14 years old. We opened the door of the kimono shop on that cold morning in March and the light filtered through the dust to shelves of subtle shades of silks and racks and racks of heavy wedding kimonos. I…
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The garden behind Notre Dame is one of my favorite places in Paris to photograph. It is quiet and peaceful and there is fantastic light just under the trees. It was such a privilege to spend the afternoon photographing the incredible Kendra Etufunwa in clothing from the Portland Garment Factory in this lovely spot.
What a wonderful day to wander the woods of Sauvie island Oregon photographing sisters Christine and Chelsea on the eve of Chelsea’s departure for Yellowstone. I got to know Christine over many a morning coffee at St. Jacks. Always charming and ready to listen with rapt attention to my six year old’s tales of Lego…
