tintype studio

with the shift of season, we have shifted locations too. at the beginning of fall, steve and i opened up our tintype studio in Portland Maine! we are so excited at the possibilities… Continue reading


home is where the heart is

nestled in the thick of woods on 20 acres of solitude, our home is a yurt village. a patchwork of structures and lives, just like our blended family who calls this home. our… Continue reading



transitions are stumbling blocks disguised as bountiful color, a woods full of vibrancy and beacons of light. transitions are difficult as we shift and creak and grow and change from one state (of… Continue reading


the 4th of october {89 years later)

for as long as i can remember, this image has been etched into my mind. just recently i went digging around in my stash of family collectibles in order to find it. this,… Continue reading


see in a new way

together with Lensbaby, in celebration of the release of the new LM-10 mobile sweet spot lens, i’d like to introduce you to the Traveling Lens Project. i’m thrilled to be participating in this journey that… Continue reading


early days of fall

these are the early days of fall in new england. they came suddenly, as if overnight. after the second frost of the season, everything caught fire. everywhere i go now, my eyes follow… Continue reading


common ground fair

this time of year marks a beginning. not just the beginning of autumn and change of season, but it marks the anniversary of our move to new england. september, for me, will always… Continue reading


back to school

it’s september which means back to school. back to routine and life and habits and chores and some of the tedium that comes with the school year. summer was a time for exploration,… Continue reading


summer, in review

as always, summer speeds by too fast. quicker than i can gather up images, moments, days and weeks. it was full of wonder and relaxation. family, friends, work and play. looking through these… Continue reading


perspective shift

“i like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells.” -dr. seuss it’s been a watery summer. it turns me around, the speed at which life goes… and funny how there are pockets of… Continue reading

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    reck·less op·ti·mism trust in modern medicine to help our bodies heal. i am here. and it's going to be ok. this is my note to self: i’m alive. i exist. i do scary things with a brave face and come out the other side wondering where the hell i found my courage. sometimes it's simply breathing through the panic attack and allowing vulnerability to be witnessed while being very honest with those people around me. because i must. because i’m human. and because those doctors and nurses give so much of themselves when the breathing tube comes out and you're anesthesia fog is making you weepy and you're being fed ice chips by a stranger with kind eyes. this human experience is undoubtedly beautiful. thank you to the healers of the world for magic hands and microscopic instruments to piece our broken parts back together.
#lifeafterbonecancer #lymphedema #cancerslayer "the more i wonder, the more i love." -alice walker it’s not just the surrender to the unknown or the complete trust in steady and capable hands; what scares me is the ease at which i leave my body. given the opportunity, i check out; i free myself and fly, time travel through space. these thoughts all come together the day before surgery, like mismatched broken pieces of jelly jars and you wonder why no one has written the book on such truths. and so while at the beach earlier, while kicking up the sandy shore of my childhood, i ask my angels to make sure i wake up from anesthesia. just this one thing, please. remind me while i’m flying free and untethered… there's still work to do in this life- humans to love and beauty to see. thanks. and i’ll see ya on the other side. it's a beautiful day to turn 43. whiskey in the jar. he learned this for me (and i love him for it) my sunday supper serenade. birthday weekends with best friends are the best weekends of all. i busy myself as a form of distraction, so as not to sink too deeply into heavy snow or sad memories or questions that cannot yet be answered. yesterday began this strange five day space in time that starts with her death and ends with my birth. how to walk through these days celebratory but also sometimes melancholic, honoring life while also honoring the truth of my own temperament? it's a lot of emotion in close proximity for this pisces. so in preparation for snow days, yes i stock up on groceries and comfort food, but i also make late night trips to the hardware store for wood that my honey could turn into shelves. and so between shoveling and plowing 15” of fresh snow, he hammered together some happiness for me and we repurposed the stained glass lamp my father made. when i was a kid i watched him for hours build this lampshade with a cigar hanging off his lip with a long string of drool. this lamp hung over the kitchen table and it somehow represents my entire existence of family. good or bad, there it is, having somehow shaped me into the person i am today. yesterday’s heavy spring snow may have collapsed our greenhouse, but it didn't wreck this lamp and my love brought it inside with a smile and we knew right away it had found its new home here: in this tiny nook of a creative space, the hallway studio i share with pesky kittens, the place i go to find myself these days. so this is how i celebrate life. it's the little things. a year ago today. in the dark of night, we sat quiet me and you, after 96 hours of sitting at your bedside watching your chest gently rest and fall. with the open window and the early southern spring blooming outside. you looking so peaceful and young, while i held your hand, and counted your breaths and spoke every thing, every dream, every love in my heart. a year ago today you were sleeping beauty, the beautiful mother of my youth, when you took your last breath and left your earthly body. each day i celebrate your life, mom. because love never dies.
  • Meredith Winn

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