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My love of photography has grown exponentially over the last few years, and with it so has the size of my hard drives and backup storage drives. And that is fine for when I am here at home, processing them, editing them, posting them to blogs, and sending them off to people.

But what to do when on the road? When I get excited about something I can easily fill up 20GB within a few hours of shooting. So if I plan to go away for a week at a time.. how do a handle all of that data? Where do I put it all so I can keep shooting?
Read more of Traveling with GB of Photos

Last night I found out that a friend from some time ago died. The memorial service is this weekend and I’m trying to mentally prepare for attending. I know the person from scouting and camping and so the memorial is actually a casual event up at the camp about two hours from here. It will be the first time I’m back there in years. It will be the first time I see those places and those people in years. I’m not really sure what I expect. Back then that place and those times… they were a safe haven for me. They were a time and a place set apart from everything else. They were when I put aside my “geek” and my computers…. drop all forms of technology…. left the rooms lit only by monitors glow… left all the expectations and rules and hoops to jump through…. and did something totally different. Pack a bag with everything I need for a few days.. and spend a long weekend teaching adults how to teach groups of kids how to love the outdoors and spend time there in fun and safe ways. It was a place where I communicated with words and actions, not keystrokes. It was a place where I taught from my heart and from my experiences… not created logical instructions and patterns. It was a place where all the external pressures and expectations just simply did not apply.. because they had no bearing in the totally different circumstances. The night before the course would start only the trainers are at camp. I would stand in the field under the stars and just take it all in. I remember one night standing in the dark in about a foot of snow under a sky full of stars and I remember actually crying.. though I blamed it on the wind biting at my face. I remember always having at least some of what I owned and where I lived having the faint scent of campfire. I remember even then being known for being the crazy kid not wearing enough warm layers as I created snow candles in shorts and a sweatshirt. I remember yearr before then even – the winter it got down to twenty below as I slept in shorts and a tshirt in my sleeping bag on the wide open back porch (granted I frost bit all my toes that same night). I loved the feel of the cold there. It was a fresh, sharp kind of cold. It kept the world present and real and full of sensory glory. It made me feel more like me and more alive.

I haven’t actually camped in years now.
A lot has changed since my friend taught me how to put on a climbing harness, how to belay, how to teach kids to climb and not fear the heights.
I’ve weathered many falls and winters in many states since the last time I took down a tent and weatherproofed campsites for the winter alongside my friend and others.
So many seasons have passed since that place was my home away from home… and my friend as the resident there… was a common sight and always felt a little like family.

I’m not sure what I feel about going to camp on Sunday other than that I need to be there
and that I need to bring my camera this time.

I know I need to bring all of who I am
I know I will bring that carabiner that I carry my keys on – which I first acquired when my friend was teaching me so long ago
I know the winter wind will bite my face and bring tears again… I can already feel them.

The tears will come from the wind.
The tears will come from the loss of that friend.
The tears will come from the knowledge that other young women will not be able to learn and grow under the tutalage of my friend.
The tears will come from the act of returning to that place, and in doing so honoring that time in the past – that crucial time and the crucial role my friend and that season had in my life.

A dear friend of mine asked me if I would photograph her line of soups for her. I was more than happy to oblidge. It was a great experience for me and I think we got a few decent shots for her as well.