Imagination has always been my closest companion. Growing up in northern Minnesota, I spent long summer days collecting caterpillars and watching them transform into butterflies in the gardens my mom let me curate. I will never forget how depressed I was when my gladiolas all fell over on a windy day. Winter meant sparkling snowdrifts and ice houses, fishing with my grandma. I can smell the scent of a snowmobile on a frozen face too.

I still remember my dad’s smile when I showed him the weed-free garden—though I had eaten all the peas. The scent of summer heat on tomato leaves, good dirt, the glow of sunsets over cornfields, and the occasional hot air balloon drifting across the hottest days of summer remain etched in my memory.

Those childhood memories paved my path to becoming a lover of storytelling . Crafting stories filled with wonder and heart was my calling. Daily life of my childhood play in my mind like sweet movies. Life is love and love is life… it’s a story that I love to tell and more importantly capture.

But one wonderful day like fifteen years ago, I said to my darling friend that I would like to take pictures with her… and then images from my very first session with were nationally published. I realized that I don’t take pictures… I tell stories.

That very first session was of her grandparents having a glass of lemonade under the shade of the big pine kinda tree in the front lawn and then sitting on their darling white porch. We also had to head to their tiny red barn. Those images are not pictures - they are truly moments of life and LOVE of the two people that helped her mother raise her and her sister. Two darling love birds laughing before my lens. Time - trapped - heirlooms. That is what those images are.