I didn’t realize it could be so overpowering, that it could knock me off my feet or steal my breath away…but the first time my little boy, Alexander, called me “mama” (after a long, sleepless night of teething, no less) my cranky, tired heart grew three sizes. This motherhood gig is wild, often thankless, and simply the very best thing that has ever happened to me.
I believe with every fiber of my being that the most important job in the world is done in the smallest moments at home. As a mom, it’s the little things I cherish because I know how quickly they slip by: quiet mornings at home, a toothy-smile from my baby boy, or rocking back and forth in the small hours of the night as his head grows heavy against my chest.
I feel incredibly blessed by the life I lead. My husband is my very best friend, and our marriage works because we agreed that whoever cooks, the other person has to do the dishes. Unrelated: I’m a really good cook. I’m a pastor’s daughter with a lifelong love of Jesus and liturgy, and I inherited my devotion to language and music (and a rogue stubborn streak) from my mother. I can cry at sappy commercials or sweeping orchestral movements alike, and will never own enough books. I majored in English and Music at the University of Virginia, where I also sang in an a cappella group and never managed to return a library book on time.
I love people who love people, and desire deeply to tell others' stories with care and craft. We talk a lot about mindfulness today, probably because digital life moves at an impossible pace, and sometimes auto-pilot is a method of survival. But photography makes me stop…focus… and seek the people and relationships that matter most. Photography is my prayer of gratitude for getting to live in the middle of these extraordinary, ordinary days, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
the beach. any beach.
decent coffee (doesn’t have to be great, just caffeinated)
live concerts, but only if I get to sit during them because I am 92 years old
the Blue Ridge Mountains
commentating through terrible movies
pretending to know things about wine
slow Saturday mornings in bed
wishing I had a green thumb
that first view of Pittsburgh through the Fort Pitt tunnels
inviting you over for dinner