My studio photos from when I was a kid - I think I’ve got a couple of those - are empty vessels. They're fully devoid of context. Other than my cute pig-tails, and the virginal white dress, I can’t answer any questions about the time and place. What was I into at that period in my life? I didn’t wear dresses except on that one day my grandmother took me to the studio, and I didn’t wear my hair in pigtails, either, I know that much. I wore "boys'" clothes and played with sticks and stray kittens and I was afraid of frogs (which hasn’t changed). None of that comes through in my childhood studio portraits. Not even a tiny bit, though I wish it could.

We walk around and I see that the farm is far bigger than it looks. It presents a pull, too, to the visitor, a tug that makes you want to linger and inquire, and peek with curiosity at the seedlings in the soil.

She zips around the kitchen of St. Paul’s Church like a ninja. A ninja with muscled arms. And also a very friendly ninja. She’s making cheesecakes, and cheesecakes in a jar, and mixing, scraping, pouring, baking, cooling, washing. To the untrained eye, it looks like a lot of work is going on.

I really didn’t know what to expect as I drove in her driveway on a rainy April morning. What I found was someone who - while taking a great deal more pride and craftsmanship than HomeSense in creating, say, a wooden tray - is humble, genuine, and kind. Not that you need to be a great person to have a good strong business, but it certainly makes for a better local community.

Recently I photographed three birthday parties in nine days.

One of them was a surprise party. Two of them were 50th parties. Two of them had cats. One of them had two cakes. One of them: salami whips. One of them had a fully consensual boob-grabbing shot that I took in a dark room

When my "Year-in-the-Life" family took their two sons bowling, there were a few predictable glitches. Having an older brother and two parents who are bowling Gods (everyone looks like a pro when you first start bowling) does nothing for one’s ego. Will gave it a valiant effort, then there were some near-tears, then a change in strategy or five. Afterwards, he ate some fries and gave it another honest go. There were double underhand throws, and squat throws, and rotational slams, and anguish and thrill. It really doesn’t matter what the scoreboard ultimately said: the kid persevered, and that’s all anyone needs to know about that day.

While you’re imagining all those other families have more glamorous lives than you, they’re just making dinner and having quiet conversation. They’re tired from a long day at work - just like you - and they, too, are looking to reconnect with loved ones.

So fall for your life. Fall in love with real.

My moral responsibility as a photographer, as I have come to understand it, goes a step farther: I encourage what is true and what is good to shine through without shame. I aim to find your tireless self - the one that wakes up with ten snoozes of the alarm and burns the coffee and raises her voice and mentally checks out from time to time and takes a hot bath when shit seems to be hitting the fan. Contrary to what you might feel, that self is not constantly making blunders and fumbling through life. That is the hardest working self you've got. It's the self that won't quit on you even when you feel like throwing in the towel. That's the self I'm interested in photographing. 

There were wardrobe changes, girls getting ready with lots of hysterical laughter and good vibes, kids being kids (read: jumping off couches and playing pretend shooting games), and even some serious dabbing. There was Bollywood-posing outside by the tree, and delicious food and hot coffee and the inauguration coverage from the previous day completely faded into the background for a couple of hours.

On a blizzardy and spooky December evening, I got a call about going out to Napanee to photograph a horror movie cast. 'Once upon a Christmas' will be out Dec 2017.

Our first winter here, I'd sometimes take two walks through that forest every day, sometimes with the kids, sometimes with the dogs, a lot of times with everyone together. But one real or imagined obstacle after another, and these walks have dwindled to near-zero.