To the observant wandering child, the landscape is a place of fantasy and fame. With this naive view, the scale of the world is skewed down; a field, a stand of trees, or an old road can hold the magic and possibility of the American west in 19th century frontier days. As I grew up and moved away, my childhood home remained in the same place. In the transition from adolescent to adult, my views of landscape have changed; but the woods near my parents' house still hold the same mystique and wonder that I remember from my youth.

I have been re-visiting and picturing this landscape for some time now in order to collect and archive the memories of my past. These photographs are documents of my personal history; a meaningful childhood remembered.

Old Heritage Road