My buddy Sam, age 7, created his very own vending machine out of a box today.  He wrote “gum store” on the front.  It’s absolutely brilliant.

It’s just big enough for him to sit behind.  There’s a slot for money, and a slot through which little hands (with red marker-smudged fingertips) dispense your purchase.  If you put in 30 cents, you get “food,” and 10 cents buys you “toys.”  (Mom helped him cut the slots, but he knew precisely how he wanted them to be.)

Love this little entrepreneur!  He totally one-upped the lemonade stand as far as I’m concerned.  Way to corner a new market, Sam!

When you were little, how did you set up shop?

He lined up this picture of the vending machine so that the slot would have a flap that read “please open for your selection.”

Behind the scenes:

P.S.  Happy Mother’s Day from Jenika’s Lens and 5B&Co Candlemakers!  Warning – heartstrings may be tugged:

Click here to view the embedded video.

The Kansas City temple was dedicated today.  Unforgettable.  I was sitting in one of the small temple rooms as it was dedicated to God, and my heart filled to overflowing.  I had the privilege of leading some tours for the public during the open house, and enjoyed sharing an important centerpiece of my life with those who came.  What a joy to be on tours with people who were genuinely interested in finding the beauty of other faiths, as well as many LDS people who came in eager anticipation of the opening of this beautiful House of the Lord.  Now it is dedicated, and I look forward to having such a serene, sacred space of worship and source of spiritual strength nearby.

I went over late in the evening to take a few images to remember the special day.  The above image is my favorite.  It took 242 exposures and over an hour to be at the right place at the right time.  I’m glad I was blessed enough to be there, though!

A few other shots from the evening:

I realize that someone may challenge me to a culinary duel over this, but the best fried chicken in the world is currently served up at the Mennonite-owned Gingerich Dutch Pantry on the corner of S. Broadway and Auberry Grove in Jamesport, Missouri.   I’ve been there three times in the past few years, just to make sure.  We drove back to Jamesport yesterday, passing by unreal green fields with blue skies above us, listening to plenty of Garrison Keillor’s narrations of small-town life in A Prairie Home Companion.  As we drove into Jamesport, we saw kids playing Red Rover in front of the elementary school, as if they had been waiting to show us that yes, small town America is alive and well, and still picture-perfect.

Dusty downtown Jamesport is lined with candle and quilting stores, and more antique shops than you could browse in an afternoon.  I say dusty, even though the roads are paved now, because it has an aura of fine dust that perhaps never settled after the pavers came through.  Or maybe it’s just the imagination running wild in a town of clapboard storefronts and the occasional horse and buggy.  But for the cars parked on the street, you could easily imagine you’d slipped into the past any number of decades or centuries.  The FedEx Ground truck we spotted seemed fantastically out of place, with its purple-and-green logo standing for hurry and haste in a way nothing in the rest of this town does.

The Gingerich Dutch Pantry has a menu, but I’ve never seen anyone order from it.  It seems everyone flocks from far and wide to hover over the buffet, where no one will look at you twice for taking an extra ladleful of peppered white gravy or spreading a half-inch of apple butter onto your bread because they just did the same thing themselves.  I have dined in some of the great food meccas of the world from New York to Rome, but a tour of the world’s best would not be complete unless it included a plate heaped with mashed potatoes, country gravy, and succulent fried chicken in a small midwestern town whose name you’ll probably forget by the time you’re done reading this post.  There’s nothing else like it.

To walk off the meal, we browsed a handful of the antique shops.  Passing piles of rusted farm implements, glass bottles, hand-painted lamps, and stacks of washboards (my personal favorite – the mini washboard with faded writing that boasted it was “travel-sized”), even the most modernized, IKEA-minded decorator would be tempted to pick up some rustic furniture or aging books.  You’re not really sure why, as it would go with nothing else in your house, but it seems like a good idea when you’re standing there.  Danny and I usually settle for a few hand-poured candles whose scents can be found nowhere else.  We use up our supply of long-burning candles every year, and that’s when we know it’s time to go back – back to Jamesport, and back to the Gingerich Dutch Pantry for more fried chicken.

I hope you go someday.  And when you do, don’t skip the cobbler.  It’s fantastic.

You know it’s going to be a great photoshoot when the directions include the phrase “Where the pavement ends and the gravel dirt road begins, turn right….” I was honored when the Freestones invited me out to their farm to take some images at their family reunion.  You’ve seen part of this family, Isaac and Tina, on this blog before – and the rest of them are just as incredible!  The morning poured rain, but the clouds cleared as I drove into the Missouri countryside that evening.  I followed a ribbon of double yellow lines as the road wound through acres of farmland, slowing for sharp curves and the occasional deer.   I found the gravel road and drove slowly past charming barns up to the Freestone farmhouse.

We breezed through family and individual shots, someone brought out the tractor for a little more fun, and we even squeezed in a few maternity images in honor of the newest member of the family.  The evening seemed passed in a blur of activity (and I only tripped once), with kids laughing and parents joking around.  There’s always so much to do during a photoshoot, but there are times I wish I could pause and close my eyes and enjoy the sounds of a family spending time together.  It’s like being in one of those Christmas movies where the camera takes a step back and pans through different rooms of the house, showing kids chasing each other, adults conversing and teasing.  I love all of it – the laughs, the chatting, even the sounds of the parents wrangling their kids back in line.  Eric and Faith, the parents/grandparents of this fabulous group, are headed off to Greece for three years, and I hope they have the echoes of this wonderful day ringing in their ears as they travel.  Happily, they now have these images to go with them…

Eric and Faith – thank you so much for inviting me to spend some time with you that evening!  I hope you had a fantastic time together, and formed many bright memories that will bring smiles to your face while you’re in Greece.  Much love and appreciation, Jenika.

There was never a more perfect day for a photoshoot.  Sunny and unseasonably warm, the park was crowded with families and couples lounging on the grass and tossing Frisbees, with the smell of Kansas City barbeque wafting from the parking lot.  Geese wandered along the pond, pecking and feasting upon bread and scattered remnants of picnics, the trees swayed with the weight of blossoms, the grass a rich green carpet that glowed in the setting sun.

I’ve been on many fabulous vacations in my lifetime, but there’s nothing quite like hanging out with family, forgetting about time for a little while, and just being together – even if it’s just at the park down the street.  Sure, siblings may get on each others’ cases and parents have to dive in and keep a little one from tearing through the grass with a sharp stick in hand, but as a photographer I get to stand outside all of that and show people what their family looks like when they’re together.  And it’s beautiful.  Not just the smiles and giggles, but the moment when mom gets her ‘payday’ when a daughter throws her arms around her neck.  Or when a little boy lights up at seeing the geese, while mom and dad hang on to the back of his pants so he doesn’t fall in – wanting him to explore the world, but to stay safe while doing it.

One of my favorite parts of a photoshoot is actually something that I never photograph, but really should.  It’s the moment when it’s over, and I’m packing up my gear, and mom and dad carry a sleepy toddler back to the car.  I know as I zip up my bags and close my trunk that there will soon be stories read, tiny teeth brushed, and gentle coaxing (or maybe wrestling) to get them under covers.  There will be kisses goodnight, double-checks for monsters under the bed, making sure Mr. Bear is tucked in just right, or any other bedtime ritual that helps the kids feel safe and happy.

I understand, of course, why people hire me to take photos of them in parks rather than of their kids brushing their teeth and spitting pink Elmo toothpaste into the sink.  But I don’t think one is more beautiful than the other.  Anything done together will be the stuff of memories.  You can’t predict which day will flash to the child’s mind twenty years later, but one of them will.  And I hope these images will help them remember.

Thanks again for a fun evening guys!  I adore your relaxed, happy family and how much fun you have together.  Thank you for inviting me to join in!

With gorgeous spring weather upon us, I’m always happy to get back to doing family shoots.  Although the wintertime is perhaps my favorite season to shoot in – with its unusual landscapes, barren treelines, moody greys, and lush browns – few parents want to bundle up the kids and brave the wind.  I understand.  But now that the sun has warmed the grass, and the Wii controllers have been abandoned in exchange for sticks and swings and sidewalk chalk, I look forward to getting more kids in front of the camera.

Photographing kids is an entirely different animal – you become much more of a showman, your imagination stretches, and you find yourself making any number of loud and obnoxious noises for the sake of a good laugh.  You make silly faces to create real grins.  By the end of the shoot your knees are muddy and your hair a catchall for sticks and leaves that snagged as you followed toddlers through the underbrush.  When the sun sets and you’ve used up the last in your bag of tricks, it’s time to head home, back up the images, fish candy wrappers from your camera bag, and brush the last tree bits out of your hair.  I dearly love it.

An “outtake” from last weekend above.  More from this stunning family soon.

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The past three months have held some incredible twists and turns – some exhilarating, others less so.  I’ve been busy behind the scenes working on more projects than I’d normally cram into such a short time span.  This knocked blogging down a few pegs on the priority list, though it was never far from my mind.  I wanted to take a moment though, and write about taking time for things.

For all things.  Taking time for work, taking time for rest, taking time to write things down we want to remember.  Taking time to relish the things and people we love, taking time to bake, taking time to call someone we haven’t spoken to in awhile.

As a photographer, I spend a lot of time talking about the importance of taking time now to photograph things you want to remember later.  It’s just as hard for me as anyone else to do this.  But like anyone, I’m always grateful to unearth images that I decided to create.  It feels triumphal, as though I was able to salvage something from the flood of time.  Like this image of my grandmother holding her wedding photo, sitting in the house she lived in with my grandfather before he passed away.  I have many images from that particular afternoon – of her holding her beloved spinning wheel, bobbins of yarn she spun from wool herself, the sundry items around her house that I remember seeing as a child.  They remind me now of many other afternoons I spent at her house, watching Shirley Temple movies or sitting on her back patio eating ice cream with sun-warmed raspberries straight from her garden.

Although I’m indescribably grateful that I took time to take these photos, I also don’t have to feel guilty if I’m not doing it every day.  A handful of images can well represent the thousands more stored in my memory – it’s just that when some are fixed into pictures, it helps the rest remain undimmed and unclouded by unreliable memory.

We don’t have to pull out the camera every single day, or call long-lost friends every single day, or blog, or bake, or write postcards, or any other good thing every single day.  The point is, rather, that we need to take time to do such things.  “Take” implies that it’s intentional, you’re doing it on purpose, not just “waiting until you have the time” or seeing if life leads you around to doing it.  The urgent will always crowd out the important, and unfortunately, urgent things aren’t usually scrapbookable or bloggable.

Urgent stuff doesn’t care about what you’ll want in five years, it cares about NOW.  Urgent things bully us into neglecting friendships, foregoing happy afternoons, or creating something that will be best enjoyed later.  Urgent things convince us that because we didn’t have time to do that important thing yesterday, there’s no sense in bothering with it today, either.  Meanwhile, important things wait, but eventually slip away.  Some stories we only get one chance to write.

Please, this week, take time to do something important.  It doesn’t matter what it is – whether it be repainting that wall that drives you crazy every day, or finally hanging up that art print you found three years ago, or calling your college roommate who you haven’t seen in awhile.  Take the time, and you’ll find that it takes less time than you thought.  Schedule it in, and refuse to let anything crowd it out.  The urgent will always be there, the important will not.

In those first days he slept well, ate happily, and appeared to enjoy the parade of friends and family who visited to meet him.  He stared up at everyone who held him with the wise eyes of someone much older before dozing back into a dreamy sleep.  One quiet afternoon I dropped in to catch a few moments, just baby and mommy.  Life is somehow a slow blur during these first weeks, time seems to both stop and fly forward as a baby grows and changes.

I love the chance to create a few images of a baby in a home.  That way, when mom has a chance to catch her breath later, she can remember what it looked like to enjoy her new baby in the quiet of her own rooms, just as things were.  I spent time with Sarah when she was expecting, and again in the hospital not long after Noah arrived.  But there’s nothing quite like the magic of pacing your own carpet with the little one in your arms, smelling that baby scent, picking up a dropped pacifier, tucking in a blanket – the repetitious things you may give no thought to now, but think of wistfully later when those newborn outfits have been outgrown and put away.  Photos are the only pieces of time we get to keep, so it’s worth pausing to capture a few nows to hold in our hands later.

The four stages of a newborn yawn:

Day one.  Not even 24 hours ago, baby Noah had entered the world, and nestled safely into the waiting arms of his loving parents.  The February morning dawned with snow on the ground, a sky spotted with white and cobalt blue overhead.  Visitors came and went, congratulating, oohing, aahhhing.  A general quietness in the room – not just of sound, but of atmosphere.  A clock ticked on the wall, nurses and doctors popped in occasionally, but mostly everyone was left to stare and wonder at every tiny yawn, every curl of thick hair, every opening of those new, yet deeply aware little eyes.

I hope you enjoy these just-for-fun images from the day.  More to come from this little one.

With Mommy and Daddy:

After a few chance encounters and brief introductions, they found themselves chatting at an event one evening.  The conversation spilled out into the parking lot.  They talked and talked…and were still talking after all their friends had gone.  Not long after, Anna had a spot of car trouble and pulled over, only to find herself calling Braden, who she still barely knew.  It surprised even her that she already trusted him enough to reach out when she needed help.  Instant trust.  It must mean something.

The Boise river moved slowly alongside us as the sun slid behind the trees, and we talked quietly while geese flew overhead.  Anna and Braden have since married, and are expecting a baby boy in a few weeks.  We marked the occasion with a sunset photoshoot by the river that flows through the heart of my hometown.  Braden happens to be a skilled photographer and videographer, and naturally Anna is one of his favorite subjects, so she’s a patient pro at being photographed.  I doubt there ever was a kinder couple, so mindful of one another and considerate in word and action.  I don’t know if kindness is visible, but if it ever had a chance of being photographed, it was that evening as they stood together on the river bank, holding each other and laughing.

The temperature dropped with the sun, and we thawed out afterward over dinner in their home.  We talked about life and falling into married love and, of course, photo gear (what else?).  It was one of those evenings that made you wish life had a pause button.

But that, I suppose, is why we take photographs.

I just love the light in Anna’s face:

Thank you, Anna and Braden, for spending such a beautiful evening with me, and also for inviting me into your home.  I loved every minute.  I hope I get to catch up with you next time I’m in Boise, and hopefully have a chance to get all THREE of you in front of my lens.  Until then!

–

P.S.  While I was taking photos, Braden was hard at work behind the scenes.  More to come…