
What the River Left Me: A Dwarf Crested Iris and a Mother’s Day on the Oconaluftee River Trail
This is a story about grief, a river, and a dwarf crested iris in the Great Smoky Mountains. I did not want to be anywhere

These are the journals of a woman who learned to see by paying attention.
Here you will find reflections on photography and the philosophy behind it, new writing pulled fresh from the work, and the mountains that have shaped every word and image I have ever made. The Southern Appalachians are not backdrop here. They are bone and breath.
Pixel, my heart dog, will also make appearances. He is blind and fearless and has better instincts than most people I know.
Come in. Stay awhile. The light is good.
Sabrina

This is a story about grief, a river, and a dwarf crested iris in the Great Smoky Mountains. I did not want to be anywhere

Swollen Pigeon River View from White Oak Bridge-Beginning of the Pigeon River Gorge along I-40 The rivers of Western North Carolina have long held the