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 life and love and clouds and quilts. We spent a combined total of 11 hours driving to a two hour dinner and it was worth every last moment. Because friendships that are easy are too uncommon, and the quiet spaces that fill the moments between speech are the best. Anda  is an incredible photographer and an amazing writer. She sees life in the most beautiful way and writes about it with such raw and authentic honesty. Though I see her far too infrequently, whenever we happen upon each other, it feels like home. So I made some images of our evening in a tiny little Wisconsin river town. Because I want to remember that we existed. As friends. As pizza lovers. As wisco girls. I want to remember that we stood next to each other as bees buzzed around us, and pine trees swayed easily in the evening wind, and most of all, that we are exactly who we are. Separately. Together.

“I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?”
~Murakami