Mountain Natural Living Festival

One of the things I love about my friend Mary is that she is always looking for a way to do good in her community. This year she made the enormous commitment to host a "Mountain Natural Living Festival" in Wrightwood. Local farmers hosted booths along side artisans, homeopathic healers, and booths with information on native plants and gardening. 

When she asked me to help with a little bit of advertising I was thrilled. I met some wonderful farmers who welcomed me into their home and onto their farm. I met a woman who sells organic (read: delicious/amazing) honey and cheese. And I met a lot of people willing to spend their time and energy to make this happen.

It was a huge undertaking; live music, yoga classes, kids' art projects. But it was also a huge success. 

The Morning Birds

So, it's funny who you meet....and it's so often the right people at the right time. Dave and I just started photographing together (again, after about a decade or so) and he met "The Morning Birds," a husband/wife team (plus Estevan aka Steve) who were looking for photographers.

I'd never been to Idlewild. I'll be honest, it felt like going home. It looks a lot like the mountains above Logan. But it was more than the landscape. I love working with Dave, and it seems pretty obvious that Jen and Sam have that same energy.

Juliet and Jun

We spent a few hours photographing with a make-up artist in Garden Grove yesterday-thanks Linh! We had a great time  (I got to taste fresh sugar cane and Linh gave me a start for my garden!) Juliet was our beautiful model...and she brought her Romeo, too.  

love the Audrey Hepburn look

I've known Bethanne since she was sixteen (or fifteen or something like that) She was a wonderful student and all these years later has become a wonderful friend. And now she's a wonderful mom to little mister Jackson.

Sara in Blue

I remember reading Anne of Green Gables and hearing the word "Titian" to describe a hair color. Five years of art school left that visual firmly planted in my head. Sara has that look. Quietly elegant. Strong.

Legally Blind

I've been legally blind since the fifth grade. Or at least that's the first time I remembering hearing that phrase. By then I was a veteran contact-wearer, but I do remember the moment I first got glasses. I was six years old and when I put those things on (those hideous, purple-tinted things that my six year old self LOVED!) I  could see. I could see everything. I could see leafs on trees. I couldn't believe it-there was this amazingly detailed world out there that I hadn't known about.

But I've never been sorry that I don't have perfect vision. I've always loved that when I take off my glasses the city lights spring into bokeh (even before I knew what that word meant I loved it, I called them my pac-men.) I've always loved (again, before I knew what it meant) that I only see with a shallow depth of field-such a limited focus means I can only see what is (literally) right in front of my face.

And I've never felt like life needed to be completely in focus. I'm ok (in fact I prefer) when you have to guess a little, figure it out for yourself, leave it open for interpretation.

I don't know, I was bawling too.....

I just got off the phone with my Dad. We covered the basic stuff (doctor's visits, sunsets, camera equipment) and then he told me a story. He told me that he had gone to Uncle Bob's (and by Uncle Bob I mean the man nobody told me wasn't actually my uncle until I was twelve. Don't tell me blood is thicker than water, this simple isn't true.)

Anyway, Uncle Bob's son Shane just retired from the service and had a retirement party and Dad (a veteran himself) attended. Uncle Bob is a BIG MEAN COWBOY. That's right; a rodeo-riding, horse-shoeing, cowboy. Really. And the world's biggest softy. Dad said he watched Bob (also a veteran) sitting in the corner crying while he watched his son receive his honors.  When they left for the after-party (or whatever you call it) Shane said to his dad (because he was just holding on himself, I'm sure) , "and you! over in that corner crying! Did you see that Joe?" and my Dad said, " I don't know, I was bawling too."

Uncle Bob and Dad. Summer 2007.

Just a note; I am the daughter of a veteran. I am the niece (biological and otherwise) of veterans. It isn't Veterans Day. It isn't Flag Day. But it isn't a bad day to honor those who protect and serve.

Everett 'a la Silhouette'

Everett is almost two; he has the longest eyelashes and tumbling curls. 


I started this shoot this with the strobe lights, but the beautiful soft light coming in from the window was too much for me to resist and I ended up liking these photos (the very last ones we took) more than any of the others. 

This image reminds me of the Victorian paper cuts in silhouette-an inexpensive and popular method for recording the portrait in the 18th century. It's popularity waned when the daguerreotype allowed for an exact photographic likeness.

Still, the silhouette has it's charms; I love how you can concentrate on the curve of his nose and chin, all that roundness in his face that will pass as he grows. 

Sweet Stuff

Mallory was my student ten years ago and now she is my colleague, teaching English and coaching volleyball at our school. She is also a new mom and I was so excited when she asked me to take some photos of her family. 

Dance, Brittany! Dance!

I remember watching my high school's Dance Team try-outs; I must have been there watching my friend Camille because I can't think of any reason why I would have done this otherwise. 

They had a routine they learned right before they auditioned and a portion of what they were evaluated on was remembering the choreography. As they performed, another girl, Brittany, forgot the steps. You could see her look around and try to figure out what was going on. And we all know that feeling, right? It's awkward to watch, and the soundtrack in your head is saying, "Oh, thank god that's not me."

While Brittany was trying to figure it out, I heard her friend behind me scream, "Dance Brittany! Dance!" And she did. She just started dancing. And she made the team. 

It's a good lesson. Sometimes you forget the steps, maybe you never really knew them. And maybe rather than crumbling or crying or whatever you feel like doing, maybe you should just dance. I mean, really, why waste the music?

The Laughing Cousin and the Utah Man

The summer after my mother died my father and I travelled through Utah photographing. We spent about five weeks together-probably more than since I left home. Cousin Venna, my mom's cousin, is called the laughing cousin at our house. Venna and her sister had to leave their own fathers funeral service because someone (my dad, I believe) told them a joke that made them laugh so hard they were snorting. Awesome. 

Uncle Walt was the pilot of The Utah Man in World War II, flying 236 hours of combat. The most noted bombing raid he participated in was the mission to bomb Hitler's oil refineries; his plane returned with 365 bullet holes. There is no way to do justice to his service record in a blog post, so I'm linking to Hill Air Force Base http://www.hill.af.mil/library/factsheets/factsheet.asp?id=5824