The warmer months are here. After a crescendo of heat followed by interminable weeks of afternoon downpours, the weather reaches a pleasant lull in the mid-summer, with nice crisp mornings and brilliant, sultry afternoons in the city. We take advantage of this window, and of a hiking backpack gifted by one of my work colleagues, to bring baby Jordan outside for a series of weekend summer walks in the urban woods near our home (in between weeknight sunset strolls along the Muddy River between dinner and bathtime). It’s been a lovely experience to introduce my kiddo to things that I had so little of during my own childhood: forests filled with birdsong, beautiful lakes and streams, fauna and flora that change with the seasons. Jordan, for his part, seems to enjoy these brief outings as much as an infant possibly could; he looks out at this beautiful verdant world, unfazed. If I had to guess what he feels from his expression alone, I would say there’s occasional wonder, but mostly bemused acceptance (perhaps bordering on boredom and growing irritation that we are so far away from his crib for his next nap).
Time is passing quickly now - accelerating, even. In a flash, seven months of Jordan’s life have gone by. In my work life, yet another academic year has rolled through and turned over. In my home life, gone already is the colicky newborn with his clinically indeterminate upper lip tie and unisex hospital beanie, replaced by a bouncing sack of energy that can’t seem to stop rolling, laughing at random words (“do you want a seastack?!”), making faces at new foods, and spinning counterclockwise in circles on the floor. In moments of impermanence like this, I am all the more grateful to be a photographer because (as I have written before) I often, involuntarily, connect image-making to meaning-making. if it weren’t for photography, I might not have noticed and appreciated what is rapidly passing me by.
As we hurtle toward the fall, I feel again that growing urge to do more, to see more, and to make more memories through my life experiences - to make my time count for as much as it can. It’s a familiar feeling, but I feel it this year more than all the others before. Becoming a parent has sharpened this sensation in my body- a powerful feeling that I identify less as memento mori (with its connotations of desperation and finality), and more an expansive, peaceful sense of connection between my transient self and the wider world. A desire to maximally love, be loved, and give something to the future. I am reminded of a few words that Elie Wiesel once shared, in an essay addressing why he writes: “Not to transmit an experience is to betray it.” I guess, then, that this constitutes my silent prayer on the page - to let my art, my work, and my relationships be the transmission of my experience.
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June 25, 2023: A brief morning amble in the Allandale Woods with Jane, Jordan, and my dad. We get a bit lost in the forest’s byzantine tangle of tiny footpaths and wind up walking back to the car along the VFW Parkway.
July 30, 2023: A stroll around Jamaica Pond and Wards Pond in the early morning. Jordan is more stable in the backpack now, his feet easily reaching the bottom footrest. We take a family portrait as Jordan chews on the pondside scenery.
August 6, 2023: An early morning walk through the woods between Willow Pond and Wards Pond. Bright orange jewelweeds (touch-me-nots) are in bloom, spangling the undergrowth with bursts of color. Even with baby on my back, I manage to sneak in some woodland compositions.
August 20, 2023: A morning photoshoot at Larz Anderson Park.
August 29, 2023: Heading out on my own to work up some compositions I’ve seen on my daily jogs along the Muddy River.
September 2, 2023: A family outing along the west side of Hammond Pond in Chestnut Hill. I test out my new tripod-adapted reflector kit and take gorgeous backlit outdoor portraits of Jane and baby.
September 3, 2023: A mid-day shoot at the Charles River Reservation in Allston.
September 17, 2023: A final set of family portraits during a Sunday morning stroll among the conifers and larches of the Arnold Arboretum, before the fall season arrives in earnest.
