It’s a snowy March day in Wyoming and I’ve been thinking a lot about my Dad today. It’s true what people say, that the grief comes in waves. There are good days and bad days. Days when I don’t want to think or talk about it at all, and days where I can’t quite focus fully on anything else because he is on my mind. Some days it feels good to cry, and other days… View Post

One month. One month ago I was sitting at home on my yoga mat preparing a music playlist for my class and my brother called. “You need to come home Roz.” His voice cracked, “It’s time.” It’s a blur after that. A call to Michael, searching for a flight, packing, waiting, worrying, crying into Penny’s fur, laying down for an hour that felt useless, a four hour drive to Denver in the middle of the… View Post

I have noticed that people in Wyoming drive a lot. Granted, we have a lot of wide open space here and towns are spread far apart, but I’m talking about the people who drive two blocks to the bar or a restaurant in town, or “walk” their dogs by driving and letting their dogs run beside the car. What’s up with that? It baffles me. Maybe it’s an older person, or someone who can’t walk,… View Post

Michael and I rang in the new year in Jackson, Wyoming, a place I’ve wanted to visit for a long time and it was a trip I will never forget. I fell in love with the energy in the town and of course the stunning scenery. I was determined to get some shots of the famous Moulton Barn (3rd photo) at Mormon Row and the fact that it, and the other barns, are the most… View Post