I don’t know how to start this post.  So let me tell you a little about them.  They met at BYU orientation on the first day.  And they said it was pretty hot from the beginning.  No “let’s just be friends.”  He said he was instantly attracted to her long legs and long, silky hair.  The rest is history.  They married, had 8 fabulous children (my mother included), and owned an apple orchard.  My grandma said she didn’t know what to think when her husband moved them to an old army barracks.  But that is where they lived and made their life.  Their beautiful, wonderful life.

I remember visiting them and going into their pantry to find two gloves that were about my size.  Inevitably they were mismatched, but I counted myself lucky if I had at least one that was pink.  We would then put on our jackets and go out into the back of their house into a large building where sorting apples took place.  I would stand on a stool so I could see, and would watch as apples went by on a conveyor belt, picking out the bad ones.  All the family went out to help on these days.  Someone would be folding boxes, someone would be driving a fork lift, someone would be weighing, and the kids did a lot of sorting.  It would be cold, my hands would be frozen despite the gloves, but the smell of apples permeated my nose and filled my chest.  I loved it.  I still have lotion to this day that smells of apples.  Just so I can close my eyes and remember those moments.

Since those days, the orchard has been sold, my grandparents have moved down the street into a beautiful new home, and the “orchard” has become a town.  My family bought our own land and built a home on it about 10 years ago.  We live in the orchard.  And during my last visit I knew I wanted to do a photoshoot with my grandparents.  To capture those tender moments that I grew up seeing between them.  The stolen glances and quick little kisses.  The smiles and laughs.

So after many visits to Utah, and seeing my grandparents without my camera in tow, I decided it was time to stop procrastinating.  I did that once with my great-Grandma Gwen, and knew I could not do it again.

My mom and I went over early to help my grandma get ready.  (My grandpa was still gone golfing, of course.)  She got some new clothes for her birthday not too long ago, but didn’t like the bright colors.  She said the camera would see her shirt, not her face.  Looking in her closet we pulled out a few shirts that looked nice, but once my mom held up he pink shirt I knew it was “the one”.  The one that I always envision her wearing.  While my mom was helping my grandma curl her hair and get ready, I saw her jewelry box sitting on her dresser and had to grab my camera for a few shots. 

Once my grandpa got home, he quickly combed his hair, changed out of his shorts, and was ready to go.  We almost left the house with him wearing his sandals with white socks.  Luckily I caught the fashion faux pas before we left the house.

Being away from home, with my props all left behind, I wasn’t sure what I was going to have my grandparents sit on.  My mom knew a lady, so we went over to her house and picked up some chairs.  Chairs from around 1820, to be exact.  Worth between $200-$500 each.  We were careful, but I was stressed.  But they worked perfectly!  And studying them was fascinating.  How everything was so intricately carved, though not exactly perfect.  Beautiful.

My favorite:

For my last image I told my grandparents to hold hands.  But they grabbed onto each other with both hands.  Just like their marriage.  They’ve held onto each other through all those years with everything they had–never letting go.  My grandma wondered why anyone would want to photograph her hands.  Who wouldn’t want to photograph those hands?

So thank you to my grandma and grandpa for letting me photograph you.  For letting me help sort apples, drive the four wheeler, and for all those movie nights, with popcorn served in old, washed out, cool whip containers.  I love you!