Boise and my Great-Grandmother

When I was in Boise I visited the haunts of my ancestors.

Here I stand on land which once held the house my great-grandmother and her sister lived in while they ran their photography studio around the corner in 1908.

It can be hard to reconcile the need for parking lots when I long to connect with the structure that nestled these powerful ladies on long winter nights, or the earth itself that carried the subtle vibration of their footsteps.

At least I've got their love for cameras and their mover-and-shaker genes to comfort me.