I’m a North Georgia amateur photographer, Swiss machinist and Quality Manager, mom, and devoted fur-baby mom. My everyday life is a strange mix of precision machining, measurements and tolerances, muddy back roads, camera gear, cats, Jeeps, old books, music, and whatever forgotten place I decide I need to disappear into next.

I’m completely self-taught when it comes to photography and still learning as I go. I have no formal training, no polished technique, and no real interest in pretending otherwise. I just know what pulls me in.

I’m drawn to the quiet, weathered, forgotten things most people pass without a second look. Abandoned houses with sagging porches, old cars sinking into weeds, cemeteries hidden beneath trees, dead-end roads, deep woods, ruined buildings, creeks running through forgotten places, enormous trees, insects, wildlife, and pieces of local history slowly fading out of sight.

I especially love places where nature is taking back what people left behind. Vines crawling through broken windows. Moss on gravestones. Rust spreading across metal. Trees growing through old foundations. Roads that barely exist anymore. There is something beautiful about watching the world erase us a little at a time.

I have a soft spot for old things in general: worn books, old photographs, forgotten buildings, local history, vintage finds, and music with some age and soul to it. My taste leans heavily toward Southern Gothic: beautiful, strange, overgrown, weathered, lonely, a little dark, and full of stories that never quite stay buried.

I’m also a Jeep person, which means I apparently enjoy spending money to reach places where normal vehicles wisely decide the road has ended.

My photographs aren’t perfect or polished, and I don’t really want them to be. I’m still learning, experimenting, and figuring out my own style. I’m more interested in atmosphere, texture, decay, history, shadows, and the strange beauty of things that have been left behind.

Sometimes I can’t explain the feeling I get when I take a photograph that moves me. It’s the moment when I can feel what I was trying to capture—the atmosphere, the emotion, the story, or the quiet sense of something fragile, fleeting, and deeply human that might otherwise be lost.

Photography is how I preserve the places, creatures, ruins, and little moments that make me stop and look twice. The things that feel temporary. The places slowly disappearing. The stories nobody bothered to write down.

Most of all, I photograph what feels like it might not be there much longer.