NANA’S

These pictures were taken a year ago, on what it will go down in the history of my life as my last full weekend spent at my nana’s house.

I also shot approx 5 hours of footage over this weekend, which has been a slow and special edit. I hope one day to share it with you all. Rifling through it all and listening in on our conversations has been a wonderfully healing and heartbreaking experience for me.




















I’ve stayed up past my bedtime reading under this lamp since I was a little girl. It was always to my left while laying in my bed on long summer nights. Small arms reached far to pull the chain, tired eyes soothed by darkness.

We immersed ourselves in constant crafting, learning, color coordinating, it’s no mystery why I am obsessed with creating after growing up and prancing through this house.

Sneaking out to the dock, late at night. Listening to the sound of the marsh lands, scaring myself and running back to the house, heart pounding.

Klondike bars, notepads, fluorescent lights.
The comforting cranberry glow in the living room, usually always accompanied by the sound of the dishwasher moving through its cycles from the kitchen.

Artwork being created everywhere, by all of us.

Heavy piles of handmade blankets, the flipping of french toast and the sprinkling of cinnamon, the drizzle of sticky syrup. The bottomless glasses of OJ. “Ashley do you want more juice?” – my nana still cut my french toast, even when I was 27 years old.

Potatoes in a pan, “a German staple” — cleaning pounds and pounds of string beans, this is how I grew up. We watched videos of all of us, growing older, together.

In the present, we beat ourselves to punchlines and observations that happened in the past. We laughed.

We cook a roast that takes hours, we make mushroom gravy.
The table is set with the pink tablecloth and the gold-ware.

It’s Easter after all, so we take a picture of me in the pink chair. With a hyacinth.
My nana and pop pop bought that pink chair when they were first married. She has reupholstered it several times. Once, it was a bright pink, and velvet.

I take a picture of my mom, and looking back now I realize that every time I hear the song that grandmother clock plays, I will be taken back to moments like this.

It’s those little things that will keep this part of my life alive in my heart, forever.

Peace & love, Ashley

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