The Whirlwind of June — My Fuji Journal
The Matchbook | 6.18.25
To say June was a whirlwind is a statement of such understatement, it flirts with absurdity. It was madness contained, it was lightning in a bottle not big enough to hold it. It took us to 4 states in 5 days, it saw first tattoos and last days of high school and everything in between. Let’s get into it.
Before we do, a tiny bit of honesty: The amazing kindness and superheroism of our paid subscriber community has made this Matchbook post free to everyone. BUT, I have to be open with you all: I’ve seen a pretty big downtick in paid subscribers over the last few months, and it really does hit hard, as it makes all the time, energy, love, and devotion a lot less sustainable. This place is literally kept alive by our paid community, and it means more than I know how to say. If you’d like to help keep it alive, if you want to keep receiving all this art from me, consider upgrading if you’re able. I love you either way, I hope you know.
Here is the tornado that was June, 2025.
Click on the first and it’ll let you see them bigger and scroll through each one :)
Things started out deceptively slow, cooler than usual, and green. Walks through the exploding arrowleaf balsam root flowers behind our house with Gilly, Sarah baking up a storm and selling out every single time she fills her little Fred the Bread Shed Honesty Box in front of our house, and then just generally looking so fucking radiant it defies belief. We then had to host the graduation party for Henry and 5 friends down at Gardenwerks, complete with big head cake, the night before the big event…Graduation. It was emotional, it was surreal, Sarah cried a lot, and we ended the night volunteering for the annual Senior All Night Party in which all the graduates are locked inside a giant party with tons of games, food, events, and such until 5am the next day. We ran the Giant Sumo Suit game, and it was pretty gross as everyone got beyond sweaty. Also, take special note of the painting Addie did on Henry’s cap. Unreal, her talent.
More walks through a rapidly-browning landscape before Henry took the giant plunge and got his FIRST EVER TATTOO as part of his graduation gift from us. Something he’d been planning for a long, long time, a nod to his Scandinavian heritage, to the journeys his life is about to take him on, and so much more. Our friend (who is more family than friend) Jami did his tattoo, and as usual, I honored my end of the deal. My deal is, if you get your FIRST tattoo with me, I’ll get one with you in solidarity, but the condition is, you have to draw the first thing you think of when you think of me. Henry, without hesitation, drew a unicorn. He was mortified I was getting it as he is not a drawer, but I think it’s perfect. Sarah joined us, and got the number 25 in his handwriting, as it’s the most special number (he was born on 2-25, in room something25, at 12:25, graduates in 2025, etc.) and she had to immortalize it. Sarah then had her booth set up at the Gardenwerks Market, sold out within 45 minutes, and we ended that week celebrating Gilly’s 5th Birthday, which just further proves time is not real and moves too swiftly.
The day before we were to leave for Spokane, Washington to celebrate my mom’s birthday with my two sisters who live there, we heard a noise and saw a flash of brown out the windows to our deck. We ran out, and saw a baby squirrel that had fallen from the birdhouse that their mama claimed as home. I put gloves on, as there were large crows and turkey vultures flying around, and scooped her up. We tried ALL DAY for a gentle reuniting, but the mama squirrel was so panicked she wouldn’t come out of the house or nest. Finally, after 30 hours, she managed to get her baby back in, and all was well with the world, so we could head to Washington. Rian, my older sis, got tickets for my mom to see Mamma Mia! (her favorite) on stage in Spokane, so we made the trek out, over the mountains, through Idaho, to hang with everyone. It was amazing being with the whole family, we don’t get to do it nearly often enough, and the trip also let the girls get all adorable and fancy for a dinner and theater night, before we were to hop onto an airplane the next day for Portland and Cannon Beach, Oregon to photograph the most MAGICAL elopement that we planned, I officiated, and then we photographed all over the rainforest and coast of Oregon. Psst…we do this as a service, our Bespoke Elopement Service that’s an all-inclusive alternative to doing a traditional wedding with the seating charts and the in-law drama, so you can focus on just saturating yourself in adventure and love. Check it out, link is right there above, or below.
Oregon was amazing, and we hadn’t been back to Cannon Beach since we got engaged there almost 8 years before. Wild. The elopement was, simply, dreamlike and astounding. Mike and Alana trusted us to plan the whole thing, write them a custom wedding ceremony, and photograph their adventure. This is now the 3rd custom, bespoke elopement we’ve done, and we have 3 more scheduled over the next year and a half, and we’re desperately trying to get more. This is our passion, and while we’ll always shoot normal weddings too, there’s just something phenomenal about being with just the people getting married, just us 4, making memories, becoming best friends, and capturing their love in the most serene, adventurous, stunning way possible. We took Addie with us, and were able to do her senior photos too, and I think she was over-the-moon with them, even though half of Sarah’s were shot through tear-soaked eyes.
Finally back to Helena, to home, for another filling of the Bread Shed, another walk in the mountains behind our home, and at last, a slowing. For now.
Tell me of your month that was, tell me of your June. What was the best thing you saw? What made you cry, laugh, sigh, or roll your eyes? What magic did you stumble upon?
I love you all, so much. Be good.
There are few radder things you can do than buy a book of poetry. Good for me, good for your soul, good for ALL OF HUMANITY PROBABLY!!!
The long lost necktie.
On June 21, an old well worn piece of clothing was left unceremoniously at my mailbox. It was delivered in a plain brown shipper. No return address, just first class postage and my address, printed on the package. Unremarkable, yet intriguing. What, where, when, and why were the obvious questions. However, I was in the middle of doing something else, so I left it in a pile, on the table, both literally and figuratively, to sort out later. In that same evening, I walked by and noticed it was still there, apparently waiting for me to resolve whether its quixotic quest was quite yet complete. Like the gaze from an abandoned puppy, it demanded my attention. My eyebrows raised, I picked up the clothing and looked at it more closely, sensing the quality of fabric, the faded colors, and the several gaps among its well worn seams. It made no sense at first. Then, like the sensation of a walking under a waterfall, the memory of a long lost article of clothing left somewhere overseas, while on a trip more than a decade ago, washed over me. Standing there drenched in amazement, only three letters whistled from my mouth, “wtf!” I sat down at the table to steady myself, and surrendered my imagination to various scenarios of the travels and travails of this “piece of my history” in the last decade. Each version was equally implausible, but not undeniably possible in my mind. But why would it decide to find its way back to me after so long without the care of my company? My personal affection, even my care of connection, were long ever lost, yet it grasped at the straws, for my current attention. In the last decade, I’ve learned as I’ve aged, that lies lay low no longer than the last lament for the truth. As they progress from the past, to the present, pressing no point other than a promise of accountability.
So, for sake of my sanity, I stopped with any more secrets or insinuations. “Welcome home!” , I exclaimed as one would to a long lost friend. You are most worthy of this place for all things woven into my well worn life. There was no reply. Just silence and clothing still lying in a heap. But if you looked close, the creases had gone, the colors brightened, and the seams seemed more sound than before. As I placed it into a honored position in a drawer next to my 1986 t-shirt from the island of Bali, there was apparently some nestling and snuggling going on, to make space and welcome. I just smiled, and said; “Whatever it takes, no matter how long it’s been, all are welcome home.”
I LOVE the photo series. What a magical life. I really love the B&W photo of Sarah you took through the mirror. Stunning.