I have always thought this river possessed some form of magic, ever since I first saw it as a young girl. After dinner on Sunday evenings my grandparents would drive the roads near its shore, gossiping about the townsfolk as I sat wide-eyed in the backseat, nose pressed against the glass, looking at ferns and waiting for the whitetail to show their dark, alert, fearful eyes.  My grandfather always at the ready, preparing for the hidden creatures to make their sudden, graceful leap across the road.  It was as if, on those Sundays, time stopped in the moments before sunset.  The river, rippled and full of life during the sunlit hours of the day, would steady as the sun descended the cliffs. Quiet and still the water would turn to glass, and as the day came to a close, the exquisite beauty of this valley was perfectly reflected.  The sounds...

Courage is a tricky thing, really.  Being brave.  Doing what you know is right even as a sea of voices is telling you otherwise.  I am not good at courage; living life out loud. Being brazen. Individual. Me.All that changes.Right now.Some say it took courage to move my family 1100 miles for a job.  But it didn’t.  Not even a little, actually.  That choice was easy.  Money, career, big house and fast cars, designer clothes, blister-causing red-bottomed shoes, prestige, clout.  All the trinkets of a trivial life that society tells each of us we must strive for. Pine for. Lust after.  Taking steps to get all that was simple. Moving to Texas to fulfill a once sought-after, haughtily fought for, perfect career didn’t take courage at all. Moving home? Leaving it all to pursue a life where I can spend all my time creating pretty things? Art? That is going...

The last two weeks of my life were spent in pure, perfect, unadulterated bliss. From Austin to Minneapolis to rural Wisconsin to St. Paul to Madison and back again, I enjoyed every jam-packed second of my time back home.  This place, this land of crazy weather and football feuds, cheese curds and microbreweries, is a part of me. My soul. The very fiber of my being.  I didn’t take nearly enough photos. Which felt nice, at the time; To be able to set my camera down and just …. be. But now, a few days since we arrived back in Austin, I feel rather empty. As if I somehow enjoyed too much and captured too little.  Or perhaps, the emptiness is a sign of what I am actually missing–pieces of myself left on the bittersweet smiles of loved ones waving goodbye…. To all of you who made my trip so amazing,...