Several years ago I came across a magazine article with photos of a beautiful park. The photo that captured my attention was of a paved road with a slight curve, lined by brilliant purple redbud trees. I had fallen in love with this species of tree while working at a garden center and had never seen so many in one place. Often times you see one or two incorporated into the landscape of someone’s property, usually up closer to the home, but at this park, they looked to have taken over the understory of the woods that ran on either side of the parks main road.

Photography, for me, has been a journey of phases. Initially it served to fulfill my love of scrapbooking and spending time with my best friend. When I grew tired of goading my kids into smiling, it became about capturing places we visited. Eventually it was a full-fledged obsession with backroads, barns and the out-of-doors. Today, I’m in search of a more focused (pun intended) approach.

Let’s take a walk. Grab a jacket and a good pair of mud boots because it’s a little messy out there. You might even want a stocking hat and gloves. The temperatures are warm for February, but a good breeze can still send you home chilled to the bone. If you have a small backpack, bring it along to carry a bottle of water and a light snack. I recommend a granola bar, nuts, or fruit. If you like, a walking stick is helpful, especially in the slippery terrain you may encounter.

As a child, the world out of doors is magic. Hours upon hours were spent whizzing down sidewalks, darting across streets, hands out wide, hair in the wind, shouts of glee, peddling faster as we flew up and down the curves and hills of the quiet cemetery streets. A gang of scraped knees, dirty faces, and worn-out shoes. There was no other purpose except to be outdoors and to play. Well, and to get out of our mothers’ hair.

Saturday morning, day 6 at Waubonsie, I woke up instantly aware that this was my last full day of my residency. I was also still carrying a bit of the homesickness I begun to feel the day before. What was interesting to me is that as a child, homesickness was missing home and friends, as an adult it felt a lot more like simply missing my own bed. So maybe it wasn’t homesickness after all.

I’m writing this in August, using notes I took during my stay in April. Four months removed and by looking at the photos and reading my notes I’m back on the trails, sleeping in the cabin and taking in the amazing views and wildlife of the park. I miss it. I miss walking out my cabin door and being steps away from the trails and wildlife. I miss the crisp mornings and wondering what might wander past my window as I drink my morning coffee and go over plans for the day.

Day four of my residency will probably remain on my list of favorite photo days for a very long time. My previous visits were limited to day trips and confined to small pockets of the nearly 640,000 acres of the Loess Hills. I wanted to have a chance to get an overall view of the hills beyond the well-known and favorite spots for visitors.

One of my goals while at Waubonsie was to slow down and be more patient and mindful before pressing the shutter button. Somewhere along my photography journey I have developed a habit of rushing through the photographic part of my process. I cannot say why exactly, I just know that it is rare for me to leave a location and not feel as though I just rushed through and snapped a bunch of pictures.

Coming to Waubonsie I was looking for a chance to tune in; to explore and practice my craft with no distractions. To just be present where I was and to capture the beautiful landscape of the Loess Hills in photos.

I wasn’t just heading off to explore more backroads for the day, I was on my way to my very first artist in residency in beautiful Waubonsie State Park in the Loess Hills.

I did not become a photographer the first time I picked up a camera. As a matter of fact, the first time I held a camera was for my high school journalism class nearly 35 years ago. I took several photos around my hometown and if not for the small stack of black and whites stored away with my yearbooks and diploma, it’s a memory I may have well forgotten.

It is my hope that through this story I can bring light to the importance of embracing our unique journey. Everyone takes a different path and we all have experiences that, for one reason or another, we may want to hide or forget about. I believe when we shed a light on those buried parts and look for the good, we often find unexpected treasures.

Whether hiking, making pictures or gardening, when I am outdoors my life makes sense to me. I’m curious and open to possibilities. I feel free. I value those experiences and it is my hope that sharing them will be encouragement to you and others to find your own kinship with the outdoors.

The Iowa Barn Foundation holds a spring and fall barn tour each year. This fall, of 2022, marked my 9th outing in the tour. There was the year I missed to attend an arts festival and then, of course, Covid. The spring tour is typically smaller, with emphasis on a certain portion of the state. I like this tour because I can take more time and still see more barns. The fall is always a full state tour. This requires a little more focus and prep work.

Taking pictures is one of my favorite things. I suppose that makes sense given that I am a photographer. I also love a good drive in the country. Do people do that anymore? When I was a kid it was something we did on occasion to get out, blow the stink off, get some fresh air. We’d load up in my grandma’s Cadillac, roll the windows down and roam the streets of Marshalltown. Deep down I think it was my grandma’s excuse to look for garage sales.

Today I am introducing you to my latest project, Backroads and Barn Tours. It has been my hope to share my love of these structures in a way that would preserve their rustic charm as well as their indelible history. I love the practicality and resourcefulness behind their creation, and I believe it to be of valuable importance, as their presence in our landscapes change with innovation, to preserve some memory of these rustic, wooden beauties.

I woke up to rain this morning. Music to my ears! I love to garden but a day off from watering everything is always welcome. Besides, everything in my gardens do better when watered naturally. So, I indulged in the extra time by starting a new book I had picked up from the library yesterday, “The Year of Less” by Cait Flanders.

I am still a novice when it comes to vegetable gardening but after several years working in a garden center I have picked up on the basics. Last year I started my own raised bed garden and grew tomatoes and lettuce and had an unfortunate go ‘round with deer and bell peppers. In any case, I did gain additional knowledge, the most important, be aware of the space you have.

I have sat down several times over the past week to work on this blog and every single time I’ve come up empty. I’m not sure what to say or share, I’m not sure what I do have to say matters or that it will be heard. Then, last night, I was reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic and came across this simple sentence. “Just say what you want to say, then, and say it with all your heart.” Here is what I want to say…

While the events of the past couple of years have not left me unscathed, I believed that I was weathering the storm pretty well. The introvert in me loves being alone and quite frankly, I don't enjoy the mall and stores as much as I use to. I've spent a lot of time working on my photography and other projects but in the process, I have put something important on the back burner...my health.