2018 Year in Review
I love a good year-end wrap-up and couldn’t resist reflecting on 2018 before it slipped away. In a lot of ways, 2018 was the most successful year for me as a photographer yet, but it was also the most challenging. I found out I was pregnant right as wedding season started, and it was certainly hard balancing the long days with the hunger, exhaustion, and nausea. (Many of my wedding couples were the first to find out I was pregnant because I had to give them a heads-up that I’d be scarfing granola bars in any moments of down time.)
I also had the honor of attending a number of births, which will always be one of the most amazing things to photograph. I’m going to be taking a break from births in 2019, which is more than a little bittersweet. (Having my own little bambino at home will make it a little easier though, I hope.) Another thing that will probably be on hold for the next year is traveling sessions. I was lucky enough in 2018 to shoot a gorgeous couple in Kauai (right after the nuclear missile scare!) and my favorite family session to-date in Northern Ireland with a kindred spirit and her lovely family.
Looking back through a year’s worth of work, I am completely floored and humbled by the amount of love and vulnerability I encounter with my clients. The fact that people trust me with their memories is still something I am thankful for everyday. Ever since becoming a mom, I have this almost-frantic need to capture emotions and stories before anyone grows any bigger or things are forgotten. The fact that my clients also recognize this importance is what makes them my dream clients!
I also am a sucker for resolutions. (I know they get a bad wrap, but I think it’s always a good idea to be goal-setting!) In 2018, I wanted to read more (which I did!) and I wanted to do more personal photo projects for myself. It was definitely hard to always make time for them with a full case load and a toddler to keep track of, but I was able to pull off some really fun shoots that I’ve been wanting to do for a long time— like shooting inside a Blockbuster (which was lucky because now they are all closed!), doing a Santa Lucia session with an amazing candle-lit wreath, imagining what a Jane Austen-esque Bennett Sister wedding party would look like, and paying homage to the French film, “The Red Balloon”. One of my photography resolutions for 2019 is to get in the frame more often. (There. I’ve told you all about it, so in next year’s wrap up there’d better be some self-portraits!)
Here is just a quick glimpse of some of the highlights from 2018, in no particular order. (I originally had 367 photos to share, but knew this post would never load if I didn’t weed it out. I guess that means my other resolution to blog more in 2019 won’t be short on content!) Thanks for all of the continued support and I’m so excited for the things 2019 holds already.
If you made it this far, thank you! You’re amazing, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Mile 219: North Dakota
There is a driveway at Mile 219 on Highway 2 in North Dakota with special powers. It curves around a line of trees, expertly planted to block the modest farmhouse from North Dakota’s harsh weather. It leads to rows and rows of haystacks, perfectly placed for jumping from one to the other. It leads to mud pies, Slap Jack tournaments with Grandpa, and the smell of Grandma’s homemade bread wafting through the house. It led to the best place to visit as a child.
I hadn’t been back to Mile 219 since the year the farmhouse stopped smelling like them. Driving into the yard, it seemed somehow exactly as I remembered it and yet, so much smaller. I walked in from the mailbox out at the highway, which used to seem like it was miles and miles away. I remember screaming “not it” with my sisters and cousins when we had to go get the mail because it felt like you’d be gone all afternoon. Now, with my long-legged stride, it was nothing.
The trees were more overgrown than they’d been when I was here last. The giant evergreen blocked the picture window where Grandma used to stand, wringing her hands as we drove out of sight. Grandpa’s gas pump was no longer there. No need now without farm equipment to fill up. The basketball hoop on the garage was no longer there, but definitely left a mark for those who knew to look for it. And really, that’s how the whole place felt: if you knew where to look, the important pieces of the farm were still there.
It was really special getting to visit the farm with my mom and my son, Tommy. We drove along all the old gravel roads on the prairie that meant so much to her. Mom told me stories that I hadn’t heard before, as well as pointing out the locations to all the stories I had heard. I now can visualize my mom and her siblings crawling through lengthy ditches because they were terrified of the bulls in the pasture, or where she had to go fill up the water can while attending the one-room schoolhouse. Mom also demonstrated her amazing (and uncanny) ability to call cows in by mooing— and then how all it takes is a simple “yah” to have them scatter— much to my son’s delight.
I know my son is too young to remember this place, but I’m so glad he experienced it. This was the best place to visit as a kid, and even though he’s only one— that is already true for him too. He got to play on a tractor, he ate apples from his Great-Grandmother’s apple trees, he saw animals that Alaskan kids never get to see. We got to enjoy a slower and simpler life, even if only for a few days.
I will always remember the moment from this trip when Mom, Tommy, and I parked at the end of the driveway in the dark. I needed to nurse Tommy, and magically- the driveway was the next pullout after his meltdown began. Rain was slowly falling, but as Mom killed the engine, a torrential rain poured and we could hear thunder in the distance. In the span of 15 minutes, we watched as the most amazing thunderstorm built and passed right over us. We rolled down the windows, and I couldn’t help but feel like that was an amazing gift from my Grandma and Grandpa. They were telling me that even though they aren’t there anymore, that driveway at Mile 219 will always be special.
