the longer i look at this tree, thin and bare from winter, crusted in a layer of snow and ice, yet elegant against the stark, white background, the more i contemplate why i am drawn to it. it is one of those images that you tag from the beginning, but then you doubt it, question it’s beauty and power - its usefulness. but each time i looked at it, and began to make it my own, it grew in stature. it kept quietly beckoning me to look again.  where is it’s value, what could it become? why is it different from others?

and this morning, over coffee, looking out the window at the monochromatic winter landscape, contemplating the turn of another calendar year, i realized.  that blank white background feels like the coming year. full of possibilities, uncertainties, fear and wonder. a blank palette that i cannot see into, yet it will reveal itself in time.

and the tree, rests quietly, taking what the season gives it, gathering it’s energy for the time to grow and become strong..again.  it is a familiar cycle, and it evolves each time.  it gains years and strength, but also marks and bruises from time passed. those events leave lasting marks and also determine the direction and condition of new growth. it is strong under the weight, balancing what mother nature hands it, delicately, beautifully, gracefully. yet sometimes it breaks, and repairs itself, and continues. and from this outside view i am unable to see what happenings lurk within its hard exterior, planning, evolving, growing, changing, understanding.  

i forget what you look like when you are flourishing. i forget what fruit you bear and it’s sweet or bitter taste. i forget the shade you offer and the blanket of petals in the soft grass, as your delicate leaves and blossoms move in the gentle breeze. but i sense your strength and power and importance, and i am transfixed somehow by the changes you endure, and your growth and beauty with each of these changes. and if i tire of you, or neglect you, i always come back to honoring you.  you remain rooted and still reach your branches to the sky.

and i knew, little tree, you fascinate me because you and i are the same.


i love words. and books. and writing. i love others' words that inspire, and touch and connect. i like knowing that i am not alone in what goes through this busy head of mine. one of my favorite lines lately:

they do something that leaves footprints.

to leave footprints. an impression. an impact. 
a feeling.
old image. same feeling.


intricate patterns on my window, reveal simpler scenes beyond. where i let my eyes focus, tells a different story, for today.


home, sweet home.

i love this time of year. the winter skies are dramatic. the sweet smell of decaying leaves fills the air. the trees morph into their beautiful skeletal forms. the garden has been turned over and will rest until spring. and in this part of the country, soft falling snow tops the towering rocky mountains. i find myself pulling inward, working on projects at home, planning slow-cooking hearty recipes, pulling out the warm fuzzy sweaters. spending more time with friends inside with a hot cup of tea or a big glass of wine. anxious to see how this season and these feelings move my personal work.

it is  a time of retreat, contemplation, and rest. and i'm thankful for that.


from the blues and open water of alaska to the red rocks and high desert of sedona, arizona. locals claim there are 'vortexes' of subtle energy in and around this valley. there are ancient drawings on the red rocks dating back to potentially 6000 years ago. i witnessed more hues of greens among the desert flora than i ever imagined existed, layers of warm reds, oranges and blacks in the towering rocks, and beautiful, glowing, glorious light.


oh alaska! beautiful and genuine alaska.


endlessly waiting.


what i saw tonite. nitetime bikeriding. and lots in my head. it followed me everywhere.



First Friday!  I am part of a show called Missoula Now opening @ the Ceretana Studios.  Come check it out and support your local art scene!


many small gifts in my world...feeling thankful.


"it no longer serves you to push the shadow self aside."  - NAGI

the tarot cards quietly suggested not to ignore my shadow side.  darkness is as important as light. and the moon gives as much energy as the sun.  this idea of balance, rather than striving for one side of perceiving, action and mood. i am paying attention, i answer...to warm and cool, near and far, soft and hard, light and shadow. sometimes i just need permission to feel them all fully.



just posted this image recently but excited to say it made it into a contest for self-portraits curated by
aline smithson.   the contest was sponsored by the vermont photography workplace and can be viewed

this image was fully formed in my head before i could make it.  i was in a house in the outerbanks for several weeks and after many daydreams, failed attempts and misguided prioritizing, i made the image in my head.  feels good to get those ideas/obsessions out into physical space, whatever that means.

and what that means, i guess, is this image means alot to me.


homemade things. i love to spend an entire day making things.  this day it was food. and more importantly food to give.  zucchini bread for a neighbor recovering from an illness and salmorejo (tomato and garlic dip) and raspberry cheesecake tarts for a very special birthday picnic. 
i believe when we make photographs with an intention in mind, it surfaces in the work. and similarly, i believe when we make food with an intention of giving, that is felt as well.


summer love. weddings. i love the variety. here's a glimpse of two i shot recently. from the riverwalk and fiesta in san antonio, texas to mountain lakes and boyscout camps in western montana.

san antonio, texas.

western montana.

more of my wedding work...



hopscotch lessons.
outer banks, north carolina.


outer banks, north carolina.


finishing my 'real travel' series, ('real' meaning 'work', random hotels, cities i had to look up on the map, and that thing called responsibility)  i found myself, gladly, in a place meeting this
new dear friend, who happens to be the daughter of on old dear friend.
lauren illustrated for me the trials and tribulations of being a higher thinker. the mountains and molehills of being an artist.

the evolution of an idea...

thank you, little lauren.  for reminding me that we're not so different. girl power.   xox

oh right. and then some glimpses of your workspace. little lauren.


st. paul.

talking with you.
about the state of the world.
and where we fit in.
crunching leaves...

moving through. simply.

airplane graveyard.
you stand among the ruins.
delicate and hopeful and young. busted up fuselage. your dress so fitted and pressed.
motionless. burned out wings.
not knowing if the remains are yours.
injured girl.
rusting yellow metal in heaps. lush green grass grows around you. as the bright country sun lights up your hair.
sun flare obscures your face and shoulder.
but you remain.
a giant among the battered pieces.
of this airplane graveyard.
and your world.

once we were best friends. without even knowing.
it's your turn to turn off the light.

once we were alike. without even knowing.
watching thunderstorms on the patio.

once we were confidantes. without even knowing.
we didn’t know what secrets were.

once we were happy. without even knowing.
that goodness meant we were together.

. you whispered. i heard it. i am sure.

grow. i whispered back. on the breeze that blew between us.

grow. i feel it. but i sit here in defiance.

grow. you know it. and you thrust out your shoots, without intention.

grow. i want it. but i am swimming in the thickest sea.

grow. you must. so you reach through the power lines for your sky.

grow. i can. but these tendrils hold me to this merciless earth.

grow. you will. and i’ll look for shelter below you.

grow. i will. but first let me rest my body against you.

grow. you have. and i cannot imagine this world without you.

grow. i am trying. but i cannot keep up with you.

grow. you show me. let me learn from your strength.

grow. i whispered. did i hear it? i am sure.