Operating on a hot tip that we’d run into some primo photo opportunities, I told Chelsea and Will that we should head to the Little Spokane River nature area. It was late evening when we got out of our cars. A couple mosquitos landed, but we slapped em and started walking down the trail. Three minutes later there was a mosquito on every freckle. We did that thing where you pretend that you’re frantically and endlessly applying soap to every area of exposed skin. I promised that around every bend we’d finally hit sun. Meanwhile, the river and trail were beautiful, but there was a buzz—a constant, tormenting, Edgar-Allen-Poe-like reminder that we were never alone, that we never numbered fewer than a hundred. Fifteen minutes in, we turned back.

These pics? These pics we took in a field along the road. Then we all sported calamine lotion for a few days.

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An early preview because it’s lonely editing photos all day in a dark room with only Radiohead’s Airbag/How Am I Driving, chocolate milk, and an Old English Sheepdog for company.

Senior portraits that grandma won’t understand.

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I love this first one. Probably because Erin pulls it off so well. Click through for more.

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