Who Is Appalachian Wedding Photography?

I grew up in small-town Florida, where kudzu forts stretched endlessly and rainstorms turned roads into swim lanes. When dry, I'd skateboard with a trash-bag sail down the street to meet friends at the local quarter-pipe. Practicality led me to wear men’s pants (longer legs, better comfort), and thrift shopping was a necessity that blossomed into a love for shared histories and secondhand treasures.

As a kid, we’d camp on Intercoastal Waterway islands, savoring the simplicity of cracking open cans without a can opener. These days, I carry that same love for the little life—snuggling under a heated throw, book in hand, or reading aloud to my last kid, a middle schooler who cooks shrimp tacos and can piggyback me like a champ. Watching my older kids, now college-aged, banter in their own lingo reminds me how miraculous it is to witness them grow from newborns in my arms to fully formed humans with passions all their own.

Life has handed me heartbreaks and joys: a bittersweet divorce, the freedom of singleness, and the marvel of home births (and one almost-elevator birth). I've miscarried, too, and I cherish the unseen child I imagine creating magic alongside their siblings.

I live for vintage fabric (because one more crossover bag is always necessary), handwoven baskets, and plants that somehow thrive in my window-starved farmhouse in the North Georgia mountains. My "working hands" are happiest sculpting pottery, chopping veggies for fermentation, or patting butts (a Greek thing I inherited from my Yaya).

I’ll dance in a grocery aisle or a tiny kitchen, wherever the beat finds me. My closest friends are my lifeline—we’d ride a spaceship to the moon together if we could. Until then, I’ll keep celebrating love stories through my camera lens, editing in the early morning light, and cherishing this gloriously messy, abundant life.