I woke up this past Saturday to 52 degrees and sunny skies. Having already decided on a trip north to Art Farm Iowa, I quickly decided to head out right away and take advantage of as much of the beautiful weather as possible. A hot coffee and camera bag in hand, I hit the road with high hopes for the day ahead.

Nature’s ability to heal…to turn destruction into fuel for its future self, to understand so intrinsically the importance of creating and recreating…never giving up…maybe that’s my connection to it. Maybe that’s why I feel so drawn to it and why I find spending time in it so healing.

Yurt…the perfect dwelling for those who would love the experience of camping but don’t own a camper and no longer find sleeping in a tent exciting or fun. It’s glamping, with the bonus, in my experience, of a kitchenette.

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.