Posts in lifestyle
A family historian.

I did my best growing up in fields polka dotted with hay bales, just off a beach of a gravel road my roots are tucked within rolling hills. Every now and again when I crack eggs in the skillet and the sizzle joins the music of a morning full with tumbling feet and eager laughter for the day, I am back in my grandparents home, my Grandma Bonnie and my Pop. Their farmhouse was one of fairytales. I knew it even then. 

It was white and porched and the rickety swing overlooked Missouri hilltops, the same woods we would explore for hours because that's what you did there. Nights were spent under quilts on beds too small for the many growing bodies that piled in the one bathroom home, but that's where my sisters and I told our secrets and listened carefully because if we didn't let them hear us stir, we could make out the stories the grownups would stay up with long after the moon had risen. 

The stories.

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Three, soon to be four, filling souls with laughter and the sort of delight that comes with sweet tradition.

With the sun above and bringing richness to all the colors of the day, these three, soon to be four, filled their souls with laughter and the sort of delight that comes with the choice to make traditions as holds for memories rich and sweet.
This is Molly and her family in the heart of Kansas City doing what they love to do, together.

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Unfolding magic over the steaming stove and in the fading sunlight on a quiet evening at home.

I love these film and photographs because they were made for a family making the most of the minutes that matter.
I made it for a mother pursuing her passion while living her love, crafted for a father's tender heart of strength. The imagery in it is honest sacrifice and sincere devotion, bringing light to the one they together, treasure most. Because for them, these years will be made up of moments like gems, tucked in crevices of time, pure and precious and priceless.
This is a motherhood session from Allison Corrin in Kansas City.

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Three sisters at home on a cozy winter day.

I'm one of three sisters myself, a mom of three girls now as well, so I know it all well firsthand. I understand how these days are forging the path for forever friendship, paving the way for memories held in a sacred space.And even more deeply, even more truly, I believe that as grandiose as this legacy will be, for right now, the roots look a lot like these moments, hand in hand, held close and warm, the sweet and simple treasures of the ordinary everyday.

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After school in the space of their home on a brilliant autumn afternoon.

Three years ago they invited me into their space, into the innocent and wonder and delight of young motherhood. You can see the session here.And while some call time a thief, for others, they make it their alchemist. Because since the years since I was with this family last, time has made house a home in a way that can only be called sacred. This is the space where tears are cried and feelings are hurt and all of humanity is hashed out. The space where stories are made and told, laughter is hearty and deep and with a look, all is known. See fifteen years ago it was just them, young and in love, choosing each other, promising always. And now in a blink, they are here, celebrating over homework, cheers-ing through soccer games. Here they are finding the treasure of romance made richer with the familiar. And thus, this is the art of what they have together made- after school, in the space of their home, on a brilliant autumn afternoon.

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An ordinary morning of magic under warm sheets and rising sunlight.

They invited me in before sleepy eyes were even rubbed awake. But then the warm sheets they shared together grew cool as with the twinkling rising sun dancing yellow through their kitchen, the day unfolded its magic of noise, wonder and delight alike. The truest documentary art I've been privileged to make. This is a motherhood project from Allison Corrin Photography in Kansas City. I'd love to do it all again. And by love, I mean, my heart is aching for what is real. Because other mothers need to see the sheen of the flame of the fire they're so fiercely living in, shining through as gold.

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