Story Behind the Picture: Candy Heart

Sometimes a photograph really doesn't have a dramatic story. Sometimes a photograph is just a little holiday greeting. Sometimes you have to put the myraid of candy canes that have over-run your house to good use.

I wish you all a day of simplicity, of sweetness, and - most of all - love.

Story Behind the Picture: Love Letters

My grandmothers spent years writing letters to my grandfathers as they fought battles on foreign soil. Their relationships survived on paper alone as they sent cryptic messages across the oceans to relay their locations and information: they developed codes to freely communicate without fear of letters being intercepted and censored. They sent photographs to one another, chronicling children's missed birthdays, holidays, and life lived by canteen and rifle. When my father's father was rescued by the French Resistance, his first duty was to write to my grandmother from his hiding place deep in the tunnels under the city. "I am safe..."

Letters held my family together, as they would a generation later when my parents were again separated by war. I treasure the letters left to me, creased and yellowed, carefully guarded in pockets, held close to hearts, read and re-read by dim lantern and firelight. Their written words alone bridged the endless miles and brought them home again.

Story Behind the Picture: An Ideal Day

I know, it's December: I really shouldn't be posting about sunglasses and bathing suits, especially since my hands have yet to thaw out from my morning walk to the bus stop with the boys.

I thought, however, on this windy and frigid morning, we could all use a little sunny warmth. I shot this still life in August, during a gorgeous week at the beach. The idea for it stemmed from a dinner-table discussion my husband had introduced the night before: "what would be your perfect day?" I listened as the boys described running, playing, and general adventuring. I listened as Marty described similarly high-energy activities. I listened as all three invented a 24-hour day completely packed with a weeks' worth of fun.

When it was my turn to share, I just smiled: this picture was already forming in my head. All I need is a cold drink, a good book, and a warm beach. That, my friends, is the most ideal day I can imagine.

Story Behind the Pictures: The Green Path Series

I saw these images in my head long before I took them. It took me a while to find the right spot because a city like Philadelphia doesn't really offer any unobstructed, building-free views with rolling green paths leading on to nowhere. But find it I did - on my way back from collecting work from an exhibit in Phoenixville, I drove through Valley Forge and nearly went off the side of the road when I saw this view.

Did I mention the husband and kids were along for the ride?

Marty: "What are you doing?"
Me: "Pulling over! I have my camera with me! Look, actual TREES!!"
Marty: "Wow, and grass without parking garages on it too...who knew?"
Me: "I have just one favor - please, please keep the boys occupied for a bit until I get the shots I want, then you can let the run free."
Marty: "Sure hon, no problem!"

I started walking down the path, camera raised to my eye, when I saw a set of fingers reach for the lens.

Me: "Hello, Daniel."
Dan: "Hi Mom! You can take a picture of me now!"
Lucas: "Me too! Me too!" *as he runs into the back of my legs, not wanting to miss anything*

Marty: "Boys, come over here - Mommy has work to do!"
Me: "Thanks ever so much, darling..."

Again, I scan the horizon for interesting shapes and am about to set off once more, when I hear Danny scream.

Me: "What's going on?"
Dan: "I stepped in a PUDDLE and my shoe is WET!"

Marty, realizing I might be a little annoyed, gestures that he's got the situation under control.

Marty: "I've got it, sweetie! Just go do your thing, don't worry about us!
Lucas: "Ow, Danny PUSHED me!"
Dan: "Nu-uh, I did NOT push you. I SHOVED you. There's a difference."

At this point, I gave up. The boys came galloping down the hill behind me, thrilled to be let loose in a sea of rolling amber and green. After about thirty minutes, they all voluntarily headed back up to the car, their shoes covered in mud and their hair full of downy seedlings from the cotton plants they discovered along the path. It occurred to me then that exhausting the children first was probably a better plan than holding them captive.

I grabbed a few moments of solitude and captured these three images as their voices faded and floated away by the fall breeze. By the time I reached the car, they were all buckled in to their seats, waiting patiently for me, tired smiles on their rosy faces.