Holy ups and downs am I right? But, more accurately holy cyclical existence. ♀ Holy state of the world, holy human.

Autumn leaves reminiscent of one year before when Mabel slept - curled up, wet, fetal.

We waited, I knew not what lay ahead; a transformative trip.

These pictures are an ode to my home and an ode to where I am.

I’ve been feeling an intense need to find contrast to my daily life in the way of adventure and photography and I feel like both female characters in the book I’m nearly finished, Layla. Stuck, repetitive. The Truman Show, Groundhog Day.

Coming out of a year of postpartum grain, blur, and glare - confronted with the person I was before. The same yet completely different. More sensitive and more strong, new guards and walls new detailed and extravagant windows too.

The lows always push me into myself and rooted deeper in the earth I climb just a little bit taller.

A calling to photography a calling to the real, big life I’ve been terrified of amounting to. A calling to step in. To step up.