A house does not feel like home to me until the walls have art hanging on them. We moved in here ten years ago. Two young kids, new house, we didn't have a lot of money. Still, art popped up here and there, covering our wall. Print outs of Impressionist masterpieces by my favorites - Van Gogh, Monet, Degas. We grew our collection of larger pieces slowly, and a few years ago began adding a couple pieces of "real" art.

This year, Luis started pestering me to start putting some of my photographs on the wall instead of those old printouts and lithos purchased off eBay all those years ago. I have been transitioning the pieces slowly.

I have to say that I'm so glad he got a bee in his bonnet about this. I love walking into the dining room and seeing the canvas of a photo I took at a friend's farm. I makes me smile to see my photos of espresso and onions in the kitchen. I love seeing Vincent sitting in a culvert and Simon's crawling tush in the dining room, a rock cairn in the library.

I've always loved taking photos, and this is a continuation of that. I do not consider myself very artistic, but this...it makes me happy.