I usually avoid grocery stores with all three kids at all costs. 

 

It is like steering a cruise ship while they crawl on and off all sides and my blood pressure always feels higher by the time I'm through the glitchy self-checkout. 

 

But we needed emergency spring bake sale supplies and thus, I find myself pulling that wriggly middle one across the baking aisle to avoid crashing into a neighboring cart. “So sorry” I say with a head shake and tired smile to the mom backwards-pulling her own cart with two climbing kids inside.

 

“Oh… OH. You're fine. We're all just trying to get through" she answers with a knowing eye roll that's full of compassion. 

 

And that five-second, empathetic contact from a stranger feels like a giant hug that I didn't know I needed.

I pull into the driveway from a spring break day-trip with the kids, Moana soundtrack blaring, to a driveway full of arborists and the news that 2 giant trees just feet from our front porch are rotting and endangering the foundation of our house. 

 

Those tall, protective trees come down so quickly that I feel sad for them and all those years of growing they'd done, now turned to mulch.

 

But the neighbors are spreading it around their vegetable and flower gardens that will feed little humans.

 

And the sun is letting in so much more light through the front windows. 

 

And the hydrangeas that always struggled under the shade are blooming better than ever. 

 

 

 

“Tell me more, bud!”

 

 

I knew. But I needed to know it again. 

 

A white man who looks around 70 years old stands outside his car that's parked against another, more beat-up little sedan where a college-aged black woman in a crop-top ACDC shirt is unloading her groceries. They're engaged in a conversation.

 

I can't tell what they're saying but for some reason I sit and observe for a minute. It doesn't seem hostile or uncomfortable. It's just conversation, but it strikes me as odd. 

 

And the fact that witnessing conversation between these two people in a parking lot strikes me as odd, also strikes me as odd. 

 

When I get out, the woman is shutting her trunk and smiling while I hear the man say something like “You'll be okay, just keep going. I know you can do it.” 

 

There's a whole world to that story I'm only an outsider to, but I'm starting to remember why going to grocery stores has its benefits. 

 

“I can't reconcile the way that the world is jolted by events that are wonderful and terrible, the gorgeous and the tragic. Except that I am beginning to believe that these opposites do not cancel each other out." 

// new and noteworthy //

Two of my all-time favorites entertainers- I simply can't help laughing out loud to this. 

 

Trader Joes' chocolate covered pretzels are quite possible saving my life right now. 

 

For the last of the soup days (dear goodness please stay warm, Virginia.)

 

If you've ever worked with me, you know that I love helping you decide what to wear for your sessions but I really don't care all that much as long as you love it and feel good in it. But in the family photography industry, there's a trend of “client closets” where you can show up and wear borrowed clothes for your session that are mostly just flowy, expensive dresses. To each their own, but that doesn't hit for me. On the podcast this week, I'm sharing some quick tips for other photographers about how to help with this part of the client experience without putting your clients in a cookie-cutter box. Listen here on Spotify or check out the show notes on the episode here. 

LOCAL FAMILIES: Spring family field milestone sessions are $100 off when booked in the month of April, only for you lucky VIPS (did you remember there's perks to these here letters?!)

 

 

CREATIVITY  |  FAMILY  |  SIMPLE JOYS