Those evenings reminded me why I love what I do, not just the light or the colors, but the quiet in-between moments. The gentle breath of a horse beside me, the hum of bees in the lavender, the feeling that time had slowed just enough for me to really see. These sessions weren’t about perfection; they were about presence. About noticing the small, fleeting moments that hold everything we want to remember.

The 2025 Region One Working Equitation Championships were four days full of riding, friendship, and moments worth remembering. It was a celebration of partnership, community, and the horses at its heart.

This August, I hosted a two-day beach photography workshop that turned out to be one of the most fun weekends I’ve had with a camera. We had a great group of participants, plus four models — Katie, Eva, Deirdra, and Jenna — who brought their horses (and plenty of personality) to the shore.

Some loves come slowly, but others spark the first time you encounter them. That’s how it was for me and working equitation. From the first show I photographed in the fall of 2023, I was hooked. The discipline blends precision with partnership, and every ride tells a story of trust, agility, and connection.

Some ideas arrive quietly, like a seed planted in conversation. In October of 2023, my friend Kent Wright, whose Lusitanos I’ve photographed many times, suggested I should think about teaching photography. At the time, I tucked the thought away, not knowing how quickly it would take root.

Every year, I set aside time for a Christmas session with Liberty and Isla. And every year, I remind clients: work your horse lightly before a photoshoot so they’re calm and focused. This time, I did the opposite, I took Liberty straight out of the pasture and into the setup.

It’s in the small moments — the warmth of breath, the softness of a muzzle, the closeness that needs no words. These are the details that time can’t hold, but photographs can.

The day was cold and wet, the kind of rain that seeps into everything. Riders pushed through, horses worked with focus, and I stood ringside with my camera, trying to keep my lens clear of droplets. Then came Heather and Diddy.

One evening, as the sun sank low, I stood in that place and lifted my camera again. Across the hillside, wild horses retreated into the golden light, their silhouettes dissolving into shadow. I named the photograph Return to Home. It’s an image I treasure, because in it I see Liberty’s story, and my own, the place where our paths began to converge, long before we met.