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Sometimes a certain string of days connect together so seamlessly, so profoundly, that their impact, while not immediately apparent, can be felt for a lifetime. Travel can sometimes make you feel that way; it imparts a sense of worldliness and opens your eyes to people and places that creep into your breathing space and stay with you no matter where you are, or where you end up. Three years ago I spent two weeks camped out in a remodeled barn on a vineyard in northern Tuscany. To this day, I swear, there is a little Altopascio in every glass of red I sip.

I had a similar experience this weekend. Not with people I didnt know, or things I hadnt seen, but surrounded by a deep sense that the joys in ones life are always there, and always influence our thinking at some level. Loss and pain are more distinct; peace and contentment more profound.

I spent Friday and Saturday with an old friend in Santa Rosa. Prior to this Christmas, it had been years since we had spent any time together. He has been married for six years and, before this weekend, I cant remember exchanging more than a casual greeting with his wife. She is wonderful. He is wonderful. They are such great people and I love them dearly. They are expecting their first child, a baby boy, in July.



I used to like the phrase doing it right when referring to people who seem to have their shit together. As if somehow I wasnt doing anything right and life was still an extension of high school, senior year. More chaos, more fun, and damn the details. I realized it isnt about doing it right or doing anything at all its about knowing that what you do matters. To yourself, to the people you love, and the people who love you back, now and in the future

I wandered around Sacramento on Sunday shooting portraits for a friend. She is getting married this year and wanted to put something together for her fianc. At one point the clouds opened up slightly and we sought temporary shelter on a park bench under dense tree cover. Thats where I met Willis Smith.



Willis Smith is a native Californian. Thats the first thing hell tell you and the most important thing, in his mind, that you remember after meeting him. He was born on a farm near Walnut Grove and returned to his home state only recently, motivated by a strong sense of pride in his humble beginnings, and a desire to revisit the sunlight and sorrow that he had carried away with him for years traveling throughout the west. We are extensions of what we love, what we miss

My girlfriend was scheduled to work Monday night. At the last minute she found someone to cover her shift and we found ourselves walking, umbrella-less and less-than prepared, down rainy Clement Street, looking for the restaurant that saved our lives many months ago.

Ive stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. Whatever will happen, will happen. Ive said that before too. This time, however, Im not letting it take away from how happy I am now and how happy I can expect to be in the future.

Love sticks to us, and makes us remember and feel and hope and hurt and hide under the bed when Valentines Day rolls around

But regardless of how love affected your weekend or mine, I think its nice to know that it will always be part of our lives. Think about friends you love; think about family. Think about old boyfriends and new girlfriends. Picture the town where you were born.

And next year, everybody have a Happy Valentines Day.