In some ways, the outdoors has always played a part in chapters of my life. When I was a child living on the Eastern end of Long Island, the beach in the summer was something that was just woven into my life. I rode bikes and played outside but more because that was just part of being a kid when I was growing up. I was just as content to sit inside with a book as I was to go for a bike ride.
It wasn’t until I was older, living in New Hampshire and had children of my own that the outdoors began to take its hold on me. Around 2012, being a mother with four young kids and not a lot of extra money to do much extra, I decided I needed to find something to occupy our free time. Living in the heart of the White Mountains we were surrounded by rivers and streams and paths and trails it was difficult not to be curious about them. You would overhear people talking about a swimming hole somewhere or this short trail to a waterfall or a view of the Presidentials from a different place in town. After a while, the combination of curiosity and necessity got me thinking that exploring some of our surroundings might be a good way to kill a couple of hours on a Saturday or Sunday.
We began wandering riverbanks and forest trails, letting the fresh air and open sky fill our days. What began as a way to pass time became a growing connection to the land. My children noticed things that I would never have seen. Maybe it was because of their height but more probably is because they were never in a rush. They were drawn to things that stood out or didn’t look like the other things around them. They saw tiny little flowers and bugs and different types and sizes of leaves. What once became a way to get out of the house and kill time turned into something we all looked forward to and needed.
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The camera came later, a gift shaped by loss. It had belonged to my mother and found its way into my hands two years after she passed away. Holding it felt like holding a thread to her, fragile but unbroken. I began taking it with us on our “expeditions”. I took my time and learned it slowly. Having the camera in hand, I began noticing the small details that were once only seen by my children. I would see tiny mushrooms in moss or the way that the dew in the fall clung to leaves in tiny little droplets.I turned it toward whatever caught my eye, searching for not just what flower or leaf or place looked like, but what it felt like to stand there.
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My camera became a constant companion. Family get-togethers, kids sporting events, paddling out on the lake in my kayak or tucked away in my backpack for a sunrise hike, my camera was always there. Eventually, I found myself traveling to explore new places just so I could go take pictures.
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Photography has become more than capturing images. It is a practice of presence and connection, one that carries forward the sense of wonder I first found in the woods with my children. Through the camera, I have found a way to hold those moments close and to see the world with care and curiosity wherever the road takes me.
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I'm always looking forward to all of the places I've yet to go, people I've yet to meet and adventure yet to be had.
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Connect with me today, and together we'll make a plan to capture the people, places and things you hold close.
