Hi y’all,

Every evening as the heat finally starts to let up a little I take a quiet walk in my neighborhood. The streets are shady, lined with oaks and maples, so even on the warmest days it’s actually quite pleasant to be out. I usually try to wait until the sun is low enough in the sky to barely be noticeable through the trees, but occasionally I go earlier when there’s still a fair amount of dappled light on the streets and houses. Recently I’ve noticed that if I go at just the exact right time, there’s one street where all of the light appears a soft rosy pink.

For a while I thought that perhaps it was the red house nearby; the light reflecting off it and casting a subtle blush all around. But the more I’ve studied it I don’t think that’s it. My best guess is that it has something to do with the sun’s position in the sky, whatever haze the light is passing through, and maybe even the wispy pin oak leaves that filter it. Whatever it is, it’s absolutely gorgeous, and lends a sense of wonder that I usually only feel when I’m deep within the forrest. It’s nice to be reminded that if you can just stay open to the world you can find these moments anywhere.

You may notice from some of my pictures this month that we have a new housemate. He’s a young pup, but a sweet old soul the boys named Ollivander (after the wandmaker from Harry Potter, of course.) We call him Ollie, and he’s definitely been magic to have around. He’s fun to photograph, and has a habit of inserting himself into photos even when I’m not trying to include him. You can get a better look at the cutie here if you like.

As always I hope this letter finds you all well. Thanks so much for reading, and here’s to finding more of the pink light, wherever it maybe be. I enjoy so much when I hear from you, so write me back!

kg

EVERYDAY LIFE

During the pandemic I started cutting my little ones’ hair, out of necessity. But I got surprisingly good at it, and though it takes a little longer they say they prefer it to going in somewhere to have it done. (To be fair, I think it’s because they can wear their pajamas; my two will do just about anything to keep from getting dressed.) And so once a month or so we make a date of it out on the porch, music playing on a little speaker while they watch the dog chase butterflies in the yard. I don’t always keep a good practice of documenting the everyday like I did when they were little. If I pick up my camera because I’m feeling the need to create something I tend to focus on the everyday things that catch my eye, but I rarely notice the everyday things first, and then pick up my camera. It feels so good when I do though; a small victory in the art of appreciating the now.

RECENT BLOG POSTS

FRESH FILM, EVENTUALLY

AT THE MOMENT

LISTENING TO

I’ve been digging Rachel & Vilray’s self-titled album a lot lately. Giving nod to the music of the 30s and 40s, it’s perfect for a lazy summer morning.

And fun fact, as I was digging around while writing this I discovered that Rachel Price (the Rachel in Rachel & Vilray) is the lead vocalist for Lake Street Dive, who I also enjoy a lot, and is definitely worth checking out if you aren't familiar with them.

READING IN

After a couple of months of little reading, I’ve gotten heavily back into it, binging books and reading several at a time. This past month I finished When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi, a beautiful meditation on death and the exploration of what makes a life worth living; and continued reading in Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act: A Way of Being. It’s a great book to pick up for a quick hit of inspiration, and a good reminder to stay present.

I’ve also started working my way through Katy Hessel’s The Story of Art Without Men, which is an incredible volume on art history from the 1500s to present, and the ways in which women have been consistently excluded from the narrative. It’s been a fascinating and enlightening reeducation. (You can check out Katy’s Instagram, the great women artists, to learn more about the book and how it came to be.)

THINKING ABOUT

I read a beautiful article earlier this month from The Bitter Southerner, Obituary for a Quiet Life, by Jeremy B. Jones. In it Jones writes about the passing of his grandfather, and the importance of a seemingly unimportant life.

CRUSHING ON

I’m finding it harder and harder to photograph my oldest child these days. He turned eleven in January, which seems to be threshold for exiting boyhood and heading into something different; uncharted territory for us both. So in the meantime I’m enjoying when I come across photographers like Jesse Burke, whose Wild & Precious project perfectly documents his daughter at a similar stage. From the film posted on the project page:

“I know I can’t ask you to stay small, to stay innocent. Nature will run its course. You will change and grow and you will shed the velvet cloak of childhood like flowers in their final bloom before the cold of winter comes. The metamorphosis is beautiful, but heartbreaking.”

That’s all for this month. Thanks again for reading!