Some sessions just have a feeling. This song captured it. Play it while you scroll.
We had the perfect spot with greenery behind her, the beach stretching out in the background, and golden light doing exactly what golden light is supposed to do. The Gathr leather mat was laid out just right. Analise looked incredible and my camera was ready.
But then the ants showed up. Not a few ants. Not a polite, single-file line of ants that you could step around. Giant Florida ants, everywhere, immediately, and as if we had personally offended them by existing on their real estate. We grabbed everything, relocated without hoopla, and kept shooting like nothing happened... because that's just what you do.
I should back up.
August of 2025, my family flew to Florida for about a month to be with my husband's family. The trip carried some weight with it, the kind that doesn't need much explaining, just the kind you carry when someone you love is slipping and you want to show up while showing up still means something. We were glad to be there. Grief and gladness coexist more than people admit.
I knew I would need something for myself, not in a selfish way, but in a human way. My daughter is one of the great loves of my life and at eighteen months old and a love for running around the beach and straight into the waves, she was the most alive little person I have ever met. Toddlers are wonderful. Toddlers are also not adults. A month is a long time to go without a real conversation that doesn't involve snacks or sand.
So I did what any reasonable person does when they're new somewhere. I went looking on Instagram.
I had been following a photographer named Analise for a while already, based near Vero Beach. There's a thing that happens sometimes when you're scrolling and you land on someone's work and you think, "oh, she gets it." Not just the craft, but the why behind it. Analise had that.
She had warmth and tenacity. We share the same faith, the same values, and as it turns out, we're both worship leaders and photographers, which felt less like coincidence and more like the Lord being efficient in creating a new friendship.
We met for the first time at her church's coffee shop, which had a playground and colorful murals and green vines climbing the walls, and I brought my camera because... well, obviously I brought my camera. Within about three minutes of meeting in person, we already knew we were going to shoot together... and be friends for a while.
Analise took our family portraits on the beach. This was the first real professional shoot my family had ever had. My daughter was running through the waves and nursing in the wind and doing absolutely whatever she wanted, and Analise just let it all be exactly what it was. She didn't try to wrangle it into something tidy. She just received us. As someone who photographs families for a living, being on the receiving end of that felt like a gift I didn't know I needed.
Her images of us are some of my most treasured from that whole year.
And then I got to photograph her again. About ten minutes before meeting Analise to shoot, I had found a Gathr leather mat on Facebook Marketplace. Whether it would fit in my carry-on for the flight back to Austin was a question I simply chose not to ask myself. I grabbed it, threw it in my car, and showed up.
She took me to what looked like a dream location. Gorgeous greenery, beach backdrop, perfect light. Laid the mat out. Everything was set. Then, as previously documented, Florida sent its ambassadors.
After the great ant evacuation of 2025, we relocated, regrouped, and Analise was an absolute trooper through all of it — posing, moving, fully present and completely unbothered by the chaos. I shot her with her vintage film camera and rolls of film, which suited her entirely. Later she was out in the water surfing, and at some point there was a cartwheel on the beach, because of course there was, because that is who Analise is. She lives with this full-bodied, unself-conscious joy that just reads on camera without you having to do anything to it. Actually having fun is just her reality, no camera needed.
The mat made it back to Austin, for the record. Carry-on. Obviously.
Here's what I keep coming back to about that month.
We flew to Florida partly to sit with loss, to be present with family while presence still registers, to love people through something slow and hard and irreversible. Memory, when it starts to go, takes more than facts with it. It takes the texture of a person. The way they laughed. The stories only they could tell. What remains is what was documented, what was written down, what was photographed.
In the middle of all of that, I made a friend I didn't expect, got photographed by someone who saw my family clearly, and pulled a leather mat out from under a colony of ants to make something beautiful anyway. Analise and I are still friends and we still keep up with each other's lives, still cheer each other's work, still talk like people who were always supposed to know each other.
That is what photographs do. They hold what time tries to loosen. The trip to Florida reminded me why I do this work. It's not just for the beautiful images, though I do love a beautiful image... But because the people in front of my lens are living something worth preserving. Showing up with a camera is an act of saying, "this mattered, you matter, and I want to make sure you remember."
Even if there were ants.