I recently came home with a stack of vintage magazines and photo books- Life magazines from the 1950s, National Geographic issues from the 1970s, and old textbooks- all destined for the same purpose: collage.

I want to understand the world as it truly is. Unfortunately, truth in our modern culture is buried beneath endless opinions, conflicting studies, sensational headlines, and persuasive voices.

One evening Ted and I were kicking a ball around with Oliver when he suddenly stopped and listened. "Do you hear that?" he asked. "That's a... quesadilla!"

Our home is shared with industrious cellar spiders. I know this not because I see them often, but because I keep finding their handiwork.

When we experience extremes of any kind, our instinct is to quickly regain equilibrium.

While walking through the woods, I spotted this heart-shaped hole on the side of a tree.

When I think about comfort, images of my childhood often come to mind, for which I am grateful.

Then my perspective shifted. Instead of seeing the view outside, I noticed something else: lines. So many lines.

Part of what drew us to the country was the quiet landscape. There is some irony to this, considering the interior of our home is now louder than ever. But it is this new noisy backdrop that has deepened my appreciation for silence.

Taking a bite of crisp, sweet watermelon outside on a sunny day is one of life’s simple pleasures. Yet there is a strange duality to it.

The very thing that made the truck undesirable also made it visually compelling.

Worms are a wonderful example of harmony, particularly harmony with nature.

What looks like a kind of prison from the outside is actually a boundary that serves them, keeping them safe and settled.

“Home is where the heart is” sounds cliché, but I’ve found it to be true.

Bunches of bananas sit in a bowl
while time takes its toll

Each time it disappeared before I could get a good shot, I found myself wondering if it would come back at all.

Life is like a puzzle.
There are many pieces, and they come together slowly, through time, trial, and error.

The feeling of warmth weaves through my days…

This week’s photo is two in one. A double exposure of a branch of ivy growing along my kitchen wall, layered with an image of a growth chart left behind by the family who lived here before us, just behind our basement door.

I impulsively thrifted him from Jeffrey’s Antiques years ago, drawn to his mixture of adorable, awkward, and odd features: