Photographing My Parents in the Backyard Where I Grew Up

Last August, I photographed my parents in the backyard of the house where I grew up.

The garden was mostly on its way out for the season by then. The flowers were fading, but there were still a few hanging on, and the tomato plants were doing their usual late-summer thing of producing more tomatoes than anyone could reasonably eat.

My parents wandered around the garden together, watering plants and pointing things out to each other while I followed them with a camera. I feel grateful not only to have had such a partnership oriented set of parents, but also to have the ability to photograph them now. Even if asking them to stand in a particular place or doing a particular thing is a little like herding cats… It is always an absolute pleasure to photograph them.

Last month, we did it again.

Same backyard. Completely different season.

This time we were outside during the blizzard that hit the Boston area especially hard. Snow was falling steadily the whole time, piling up on the trees and the fence and the paths through the yard.

Being out there with them reminded me immediately of being a kid during storms like that. Snow days. Big storms that shut everything down and made the world feel quiet and a little magical for a while.

I don't feel like we get storms like that very often anymore.

My mom is usually talking nonstop, and my dad is almost always doing something ridiculous to make her laugh. They are both incredibly silly and very affectionate with each other, which means that any attempt I make to give them direction is quickly derailed.

Most of the time I just end up laughing and photographing whatever happens next.

Which, honestly, is usually better anyway.

Photographing them feels a little strange sometimes. I spent so much of my childhood in that backyard, running around under those trees and through the garden paths. Now I come back with a camera and ask them to stand in places that have been part of our family life for decades.

But I’m really grateful for the chance to do it.

Last August there were tomatoes on the vines and the last stubborn flowers in the garden.

Last month there was a blizzard, heavy snow on the trees, and my parents shoveling paths through the yard while laughing at each other.

Same place. Two seasons.

And two small chances for me to document people I love in a place that shaped so much of my life.