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:

Water moves quietly through our days, falling softly from the sky and filling the ordinary spaces of our homes.

In just two years, these books have witnessed countless story times and car rides. They have been handled constantly, and subjected to their fair share of teething.

This laundry basket is sitting in my bedroom, next to my dresser, clean and folded, basking in the sunlight.

It has been there for days.

Our record player has been getting a lot of use lately.

Photography taught me to notice small, easily overlooked details—and in that practice of noticing, I began to glimpse the presence behind it all.

It had been crushed by a closing door some time ago. Now it was stuck to the inside of the door frame with its bright red belly facing up, as if it were sunning itself.

It’s a pattern easily found in nature, in rippled water and sliced tree trunks.