Tag Archives: Massachusetts

New York Times Sunday Review Publishes Birth Culture

I am so pleased to share that the New York Times Sunday Review published an excerpt of my Birth Culture project along with an op-ed I wrote.

You can see more photographs from the project here.

Posted in Africa, Baby, Birth, CASA midwifery school, Chunhuhub, Delivery, Doctors Without Borders, Dominican Republic, José Maria Morelos, Lagos, Massachusetts, Mexico, Midwifery, New York Times, Nigeria, Quintana Roo, San Miguel de Allende, Traditional Midwife | Also tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Jenna Eats a Plum and Chris Sits in a Hotel Room

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Posted in Chilmark, Friends, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts, Portraits | Also tagged , , Leave a comment

Chris Sits Below a Painting and a Flag Whips on the Ferry

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Berries at Aquinnah and, After the Fog, Nick Looks off a Jetty

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Posted in Beach, Friends, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts, Menemsha | Also tagged , , , Leave a comment

Chris Sits at Menemsha and Walks Along a Jetty

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Posted in Friends, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts, Menemsha, Portraits | Also tagged , , , , Leave a comment

Two Blue Walls With a Print and Flowers

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Posted in Chilmark, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts | Also tagged , , Leave a comment

A Beach at Menemsha and, Elsewhere, Chris Stands Lookout

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Jenna Zips her Shirt and, Nearby, a Stone House

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Two Small Things

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Posted in Baby, Chilmark, Friends, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts | Also tagged , , , Leave a comment

Going Home

I go to the Franklin County Fair almost every September, although my attendance has slipped since I left my home. The midway is always crowded with dusty work boots, tart caramel apples, and teenagers carrying toddlers and giant cups of lemonade. 4-H farmers hose down cows until their legs glow perfect white, elaborate quilts hang in the round house above an old man slowly playing a keyboard, and bright fruit wins blue ribbons. Fat trout slowly wave their tails in the fish and game barn. Sometimes there’s a calf that will lick your hand with its thick tongue, and you can climb on the tractors to have your picture taken.

Going home feels strange, though: the rides seem more broken and the hometown metal band less loud, everything looks smaller and I feel more out of place than ever. My 4-H club meetings and barn jobs seem immediate to me, but I know they were a long time ago to anyone else, and I don’t know what it means to live in a place that I’m not from. But the light at the fair is still beautiful, fried dough with maple cream seeps grease into paper napkins like it should, and the demolition derby is loud as hell and completely exhilarating.

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Posted in Agriculture, Fair, Fall, Fun, Greenfield, Massachusetts | Also tagged , , , , Leave a comment