Kalli is always asking for me to support her in her photography.  Somehow putting the kids to bed on her busy nights (which I do almost every night) and watching the kids during shoots isn’t enough.  Here is my latest attempt to help out.  Unfortunately I don’t usually get to help with the fun parts.  I do the behind the scenes work like the taxes and staying up late updating the websites—multiple times.  So this is my chance to step into the frame for just a moment.  She even gave me a deadline.  So take it or leave it, you get Nate today.

A couple of posts ago Kalli shared some pictures of her grandparents.  Her post reminded me that while in Utah last year for Christmas we made the long trek to Vernon, a small farming/ranching community about 1 ½ hours from Salt Lake City.  This is where my mom grew up and where my grandparents Kenneth and Belva Fredrickson still live.  Part of the old Pony Express route, Vernon is where I visited during summer vacations jumping across hay-bales, riding ATVs and horses, shooting blackbirds with my cousin and on occasion moving pipe.  Having grown up in suburban Denver, a trip to rural Utah was a highlight of my summers. Among all the adventures that I had in Vernon as a youth, I remember most vividly the outings with my grandfather to feed his cows.  There were times that we’d ride in the back of a pickup while tossing hay for the conga lines of cows, but usually it was a short trip to the corral.  As far back as I can remember grandpa had cows; even a bull named Ferdinand—I think he has since stopped naming them.

When we visited my grandparents this last Christmas, it had been 3 years since we’d last seen them.  We were well overdue.  We packed up the kids and the camera to make the visit.  As the nostalgia of visiting set in, I inevitably asked my grandpa if the cows needed feeding.  I wanted Mackay to be up close with the cows.  We walked the short distance from the house to the corral and then I had the chance to snap a couple of pictures of grandpa in action.  These pictures are an exact visualization of my memories of him, handsome as ever, pitching hay to his cattle.  We weren’t at the corral very long, but I was pleased that I got to capture these memories with my wife’s equipment.  After all, that’s what lifestyle photography is about; capturing the moments in life that are worth remembering.  I think we all do this occasionally.  As the ones we love grow older and time becomes more fragile we more frequently try to take pictures realizing that it might be the last chance.  I’ve wondered how obvious this is to them, our elders, as if each click and flash is a tick-tock closer to eternity.  I hope they don’t mind and I hope they realize that it’s because they will be missed, and loved, and remembered.  Capture those moments.  Capture the ones you love.

My grandparents were married on November 8, 1951 after meeting at a church dance.  They have 6 children, 33 grandchildren, 15 great grandchildren (+2 coming soon).  Much like Kalli’s grandparents, Kenneth and his brother Marvin purchased an old army barrack for $50, split it in half and settled across the street from each other.  They both married a Belva and originally intended on naming the street Belvedere Lane (Belva Dear).

I am glad we were able to spend time with my grandparents and captures these timeless an priceless images.

*Note from Kalli: Thank you to Nate for his great guest post.  We met in an English class during college, where the teacher said his writing was so good he should be published.  Before I really knew him, I scoffed, knowing that however good his work was, mine was better.    And as the Holidays approach and the busy season gets even busier, I can imagine you may hear from him again.  Because, really, his writing isn’t too bad. And his photography skills aren’t so bad, either.  Thanks, Nate!

And as a side note: Don’t forget about the Holiday Spirit giveaway.  Be thinking about family or a friend you’d like to nominate, to make their Christmas Season a little brighter this year.

Mackay is in a soccer class. Not a soccer team– I saw too many signs that she was just like me, and therefore deemed a full fledged “team” inappropriate. (I played soccer for two years and kicked the ball–once–directly out of bounds. Otherwise I would SIT on the field because I was bored and talk with my friends.) Anyway, Mackay is absolutely loving it, and has even changed her name to “Soccer Girl”. We bought her soccer shoes and a new soccer ball. But every few days she tells me about how she needs a soccer shirt. With a number on it.  I’m not sure if I am just supposed to go into the boy’s section for something like that or what, but I kind of just ignore her whenever she brings it up.  A few days ago it was late afternoon and I felt the urge to get out of the house.  “Let’s go practice soccer!”  I told her.  She was so excited.  She got on her shoes, had her ball, but alas, no soccer shirt.  “Just put that shirt on, Mackay.  And then come see me.”  I got a piece of paper, a black marker, and asked her what number she wanted written on it.  And then I got some packing tape and taped it to her shirt.
I know you are all jealous of my crafting abilities.  You should be.  My daughter was elated with her new soccer shirt.  She even said she was going to wear it.every.day.  (Lucky me.)  And if you are turning green with jealousy at all my amazing abilities, here’s more: I even made that quilt she is jumping on.  I’m crafty all over the place.