K&S {Ellensburg Wedding}

We had the great pleasure of photographing this sweet couple in Ellensburg and wanted to share a few favorites here . . . enjoy!

New Baby! {Seattle Carkeek Park}

Hearing that this family was expecting a new baby made my day!  Look how sweet they are:


Family {Bellevue Family Portraits}

It’s not that often that I get the chance to photograph extended families and I loved seeing the joy and affection between the grandparents and parents and kids and aunt and uncle.  So much love.


The fantastic flying books….

Entering in she asked “Oh, did you make those after reading The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessmore?” I half calked my head confused as to what she was talking about. I explained that I decided to fold books after admiring an Anthropologie in-store display, and then I asked to hear more about this wonderful book I knew nothing about. She proceeded to describe the most beautiful children’s book ever, and a week later there was a gift on my porch from her- the book itself.

The first time I read this book I burst into tears. Not sad tears, but because it was so beautiful and poignant. My life has felt a little like his, especially this year.

I continue to find great comfort and inspiration in these pages, and I do this frequently.

This page set right here is so beyond brilliant: both in illustration and words.

I don’t want to spoil the story for you so I am going to leave the remainder of the illustrations and plot for you to discover. Regardless of whether or not you have children I feel strongly that this book should be read by just about everyone. If you can’t buy it, go to the library and read it.  Additionally I recommend that you fold a book and dangle it from your ceiling as a reminder of your worth, dreams, joys and sorrows. You matter and so does your story. Mr William Joyce- I am so glad you shared your time and talent with the world- your book raises the bar in every way possible.

it’s getting easier


“Lilly put down that dead fish! No-SERIOUSLY put the dead fish down!”

“Finny- you are way too far out in the water. Come closer. Can you hear me?! TOO DEEP!”

They both look at me, half smirks- tempting my seriousness even though I feel I’ve been pretty clear. I stand and go to them, talk and come back. I’m in a constant battle within myself to give them full freedom and realizing they would likely drown or get some awful fish disease if I didn’t intervene.

This cycle is on repeat for most of the afternoon, both Sarah and I alternating in an orchestra of firm but kind instruction. We spoke in fractured statements over the conditions of our hearts, lives, and of those we love. In the few rare moments of silence we could hear multiple languages being spoken along the shore from where we sat. I miss this, I thought. I miss the diversity/familiarity of this beach and friends who know me without any striving or second-guessing.

The history between us; grief, heartache, anxiety, joy, celebration, worry, relief, and laughter are somewhat like the sand between my toes, and the water that washes them clean. It’s a combination of therapeutic exfoliation, and healing restoration. She is pirate treasure for my soul, and I wish I could take her with me back home.

We scrubbed fish guts, sand and who knows what off our shivery kid’s bodies, then agreed that it’s getting easier. Like how we know to pack up and leave before the meltdown, and how we pack snacks and water to prevent “hanger”.  How we can give our kids more and more leash to explore and enjoy watching their curiosity unfold in castle play and dump trucks.

With each stage of independence gained, another strand of freedom releases for me. Driving home past fields of marshmallow hay rounds I slowly remember not to wish away their smallness, incapability or inclination towards danger. I’m still a superhero to them and eyes wide like theirs won’t look back at me like this for long. Eyes that both trust and loathe my authority. Their sweet hands that still voluntarily hold mine- so small. Yes, savor and don’t wish away.

A minor shoulder sunburn on my right side reveals the evidence of a day well spent. Rubbing lotion over the tender space I marvel over the wonder of our day.  The lack of epic emotional meltdowns, the way I parented my kids with patience (pat on the back- yay me), and the people I spent it with. All of this rare and all of it fully appreciated.


(I have a policy to NOT bring my real camera to the beach so all of these are cell phone pics, just so ya know)

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