We’ve been sketching your little nose in our minds, whispering your maybe names, falling in love with the idea of who you are + who you’ll be.

There’s a line out the door of people who can’t wait to count your fingers or breathe in your perfect smell.

We’re ready when you are.

More colorful+funny+happy photos from this session coming soon. For now, we wait.

xo

As of late, Huckleberry has found solace in the morning light. He never used to notice the thin lines of light slipping through the blinds, bending from the window to the wall, shifting with the slow pace of our routines. The beams slide in silence along the floor as we brush our teeth, run like fingers across the couch while the coffee maker huffs a fresh brew. It used to be that Huckleberry was only interested in the sounds of breakfast coming and going. He was content to curl into the crumpled indentations of our bed before it was made. He became quite adept at building small nests out of forgotten piles of laundry.

I attribute his newfound appreciation of light to the tutelage of his sister, Haunches. A veteran beam sleeper, she is pictured in the majority of our photographs on her side, in a shaft of sweet morning sun. A creature so limp in a rhombus of radiating heat, as if tipped over like a sleeping Holstein in a moonlit field. We joke that she has the vision of Predator. You know, the dreadlocked alien creature from the late nineties sci-fi flick who harnesses the ability to seek its prey using thermal imaging?

Under her careful counsel, Huckleberry has become a heat seeking morning missile. With a belly full of breakfast and a heart full of well-intentioned wet kisses, he can now be found in his own shapes of light, moving as they move, until the sun reaches overhead, the walls go dim and the sound of lunch coming and going rustles him from a perfect morning nap.

Oh hello there. Long time, no see. I’ve just returned from a remote island in the south of…just kidding, I’m a bad blogger. But I’m happy to report that Shelter Shots is coming back in full swing! I attended orientation at my new shelter last week and hope to serve up some sweet puppy dog faces before you know it. New shelter, you ask? Why yes. For those of you who haven’t heard, I live in New York now. It’s been a terribly exciting time for us. Us being my brand new husband and our two hairless wonderhounds. There are so many stories to tell, life events to cover, and photos to discontinue hoarding.

But first up, some chihuahuas.

Meet Ume (that’s ooo-me) and Suzuki. You should know that they are sisters. They lick each others’ eyeballs. And they were rescued from a special kind of hell by none other than my very best girl, Ali Hinks.

Real love

Get a load of this little heartbreaker.

Meet Eli

His toes are morsels of heaven. Yogurt dipped almonds. Honey covered peanuts.

When he drifts off to sleep, everyone whispers and marvels at the perfect shape of his nose. Well, at least I did.

 He is loved beyond words and actions. You can see it in his parents’ eyes and feel it in their house.

They’re in love.

 Now I’m in love too.

Teeny tiny yawns never cease to amaze.

Thank you Eli, Eli’s mom and dad, Eli’s perfect winter afternoon.

I’m so lucky to have this job, these moments, this proximity to love – and that new baby smell.

xoxo

I wish I didn’t care if you ate a turkey today. I wish Thanksgiving was a holiday for pigging out on bushels of kale. Piles of garlic. Mountains of potatoes.

I’ve never been a strict vegetarian. I’ve been a vegan. I’ve juiced. But for most of my life I’ve been a well-meaning eater. An occasional tuna sandwich enjoyer. A mostly organic veggie muncher. And a head-over-heels animal lover.

To each his own. I like that saying. I’m a believer of that saying.

But man…I love/hate Thanksgiving.

Because one day, not long ago, I met a turkey. A turkey named Alphonso. And he changed me.

I introduced myself to him. He sat calmly as I felt the layers of his white feathery coat, as I ran my fingers across his gloriously textured, rainbow-tinted head. It was soft like an ear lobe. And warm. Like a hand you hold on a stroll. Like an arm resting around your shoulder at the movies. Like a friend.

He was warm and sweet and unforgettable. At one point I loved him more than my husband. And we still argue about it to this day.

I love his clumsy feet. His wayward glance. His beautiful ugliness.

I love him because he’s flesh and blood and heart and feather and he let me take this picture next to him, like a Disney character at Magic Kingdom.

These are Alphonso’s feet. It’s not uncommon for turkeys destined for the slaughterhouse to have the feet of an old sea captain; rough, calloused and downright painful. Thankfully, Alphonso’s tired old dogs are tended to with love by the very fine folks of Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary.

We spent a day here this summer during our road trip to NY. In our farm garb and boots, we shoveled hay, fed pigs, and tickled the chins of many a goat. It was heaven.

Its own magic kingdom of sorts, Woodstock Sanctuary is a non-profit dedicated to saving the lives of farmed animals. Each animal has a name here. Each animal has a chance at a better life.

Whether it’s helping an injured sheep to walk again, making a comfortable home for a disabled pig, or providing food and shelter to countless chickens, pigs and rabbits rescued from the city’s slaughterhouses, the work of Woodstock Sanctuary is meaningful, heartbreaking, and necessary.

 Every animal has a story to tell.

 And a personality.

 It’s easy to fall in love at Woodstock.

The real free range.

Evidence of a past life.

Adorableness.

Through their website, community outreach and volunteer program, they help teach people about the abuses farmed animals endure behind the curtains of our food systems. They bring awareness about the harm we’re doing not only to sentient beings, but to our one and only planet. If that’s not enough, they also have a fantastic website where you can meet each animal. Like Alphonso…

The great news is that you can DO SOMETHING super kind and unique this holiday: You can sponsor a turkey!

From their website:

You can help us care for our feathered friends by Sponsoring A Turkey here at Woodstock Sanctuary. It’s an affordable way to help us cover the costs of providing shelter and care to farmed animals in need –and they make wonderful, inspiring gifts! With each sponsorship, you’ll receive a beautiful card that includes a color photo of the turkey you are sponsoring along with their story of how they came to us and a bit about their unique personalities. (See more about the life of the millions of less-lucky turkeys here.)

Another option, and to assure receipt by Thanksgiving (Nov 24), you can choose to send a Sponsor A Turkey eCard to your gift recipient–or just to yourself in lieu of a card and as a paper-saving option.

Right ON, Woodstock. Way to be. Way to help the world one charming creature at a time. And thank you for having us as guests on your beautiful farm this summer. We’ll never forget our experience.

And I couldn’t wrap up this post without a little help from my friend Rob, who reminded me of this great poem by Shel Silverstein.

Thanksgiving dinner’s sad and thankless
Christmas dinner’s dark and blue
When you stop and try to see it
From the turkey’s point of view.

Sunday dinner isn’t sunny
Easter feasts are just bad luck
When you see it from the viewpoint
Of a chicken or a duck.

Oh how I once loved tuna salad
Pork and lobsters, lamb chops too
‘Til I stopped and looked at dinner
From the dinner’s point of view.

From the bottom of our little veggie hearts, we wish you a very happy ThanksLiving.

This is Simone + Soren.

Here’s a glimpse of our sunny autumn session in Hillsborough last weekend.

More to come soon…

Meet Rowan + Milo. They’re twins.

Their parents hired me to photograph their family.

We met on a Sunday in Durham. It was one of those crisp, sun-filled fall days.

I brought my camera. They brought everything else.

Including the beautiful tattoos and the baby skinny jeans.

Everyone’s hair was perfect. And mom brought homemade pancakes.

We strolled, we clambered about, we smelled the late harvest of local tobacco.

We made some of my favorite family photographs to date.

Tats for tots.

I’m so happy it was you four that hopped out of the car that day.

Rowan + Milo?  You’re the coolest.

Love,

Heather