We had talked in the spring, when summer was still a distant promise and there was a touch of chill still left in the evening air, of meeting at the Pizza Farm. It took an entire summer to plan, to finally put down on paper (or rather on the shiny screen of an iPhone calendar), but finally on a warm September evening, as summer waned and a chill descended on a dusky sunset river town, my dear friend Anda met me for dinner. But more than that, she met me for a lovely evening of simply being. Of friendship. Of walking and talking and laughing until my insides hurt. Of Spotted Cow and farm fresh pizza and strangers-turned-into-helpful-camera-men. Of wind and dew and the smell of pie on the late summer breeze. We watched a train speed past, and walked along the shore of the river, and we talked about...

I have toyed with the idea of getting a studio for quite awhile (read: pretty much as long as I’ve been a photographer), but I never really pursued it. I didn’t really have the capital to invest in a studio space by myself, and I wasn’t sure how much I’d actually use it, since, well, I’ve never actually used a studio. So it was serendipitous to say the least when a friend of mine recently posted that she was looking for a studio mate for the last couple months of her lease.  I realized that the universe was trying to tell me something so I stopped and listened. Which means that I recently (read: Monday) picked up the keys to a studio space in St. Paul. (Insert excited and high-pitched “Squeeeeeee” here.) The space is beautiful. It’s clean and white and has tall, gorgeous, light pouring in all times of...