I remember my mom playing Für Elise on the basement piano. I remember tater tot hotdish and monthly 4-H meetings. I remember my grandmother’s mud-brown trailer, my uncle’s big dogs, and our horses thundering through slanted afternoon sun…This was my childhood and as I watch my niece and nephew, I begin to see their narrative, an iteration of the same, yet vastly different story. Since losing their father to suicide, these photos have become an insightful portrait in the reckoning of loss, hope, and the nostalgia that reveals itself when we lose our youth to unpredictable events within the natural progressions of life. This ongoing, ever-evolving series of my family is becoming my way to grasp irreversible events, accept the notion of time, and attempt to understand life through the beauty and death that is inherently part of every living being.
Home is Where The Garden Grows.