"I’m glad we’re here together" she says. To me, not her horse. I’m almost positive.
A little help from big sister.
So giddy when her daddy’s done working.
We’re walled-in by roses. Aren’t they pretty? Wouldn’t you want to live here? Please somebody buy our house. It’s really such a fine little house.
Oh the irony of a photographer’s daughter resting casually in a basket of soft blankets. Ghosts of cheesy photo props of my past will haunt me all my days, I fear.
And of course there’s this, too. 💕
I thought by three months I’d be pretty good at life with two kids, but most days still unravel into chaos and feel like a blurred minute and an eternity at once. So…six months. I’ll have this by six months.
Hazel, 3 months old, sometimes adorable.
Long checkout lane magazine flipping and Ah - my work in print! So neat!
Prison selfies. (at Mansfield Reformatory)
A soldier in the Terracotta Army of 210 BC. So, so excited to see this.
In a schoolbus on top of St Louis. No big deal.
Miles of Arkansas dirt roads, a rainstorm, and one mud-covered car later, we are here. The house where Johnny Cash grew up.
Magnolia trees and old graves on this rainy morning in Memphis. I am happy. And blossoms for eyes, unintentionally.