I’m not really a feminist, guys. I’m not not a feminist though, either. That topic is way too heavy and broad to get into here. But I do feel strongly about equality in most things between genders. Especially in marriages. And mutual respect is a must. I definitely found that with my husband, John. Which is why this post is all about him. I couldn’t be pursuing this creative dream without his indefinite support. I love him. Despite him being the most annoying, hyper, high pitch singing, crazy outfit (that somehow always look cool) wearing man ever. He has the biggest heart underneath all of those ridiculous qualities. And that’s what counts. So to celebrate the man with the bun, we had a photoshoot on Father’s Day. As we like to do for most of our outings. But this time I was in almost none of the photos. ALMOST none. I mean, I want to be remembered at this thing too, ya know?
So we found another amazing farm only 40 minutes outside of Rockland County. Every time I think, ”what’s it like to live somewhere else?” I’m stopped by a brand new and amazing adventure just outside of my little world. This gem is called Blooming Hill Farm. We went per my husband’s request for Father’s Day and I looked upon it as a “practice photography” day. If you didn’t already know, I’m super uncomfortable in front of the camera and totally prefer being behind it most of the time. But I will continue to force myself on that front end so I can have these memories to look back on. Anyway, I think maybe I’m a photographer now? Lol. I’m kidding, I’m not. But maybe I am. I barely know how to edit and what’s lighting? But I had a ball taking pictures of John and Logan at the farm. You can see all of them below.
Fun story – John is a restaurant owner in town but before he was part owner of said restaurants, he was just a kid working in a pizza shop. He there learned how to make pizzas and was pretty awesome at it. Before I even knew of John’s existence, my mom and grandparents would always go to this pizza place, Cicero’s, and order their food from him. My mom thought he was so cute and sweet. I was probably 11 at this point and knew none of this. Also boys were still gross. (For those of you who don’t know, I’m a few years younger than John. Just a few. I’m really mature and he’s secretly 18. Or Benjamin Button. We’re still trying to figure it out) Fast forward a few years, maybe a decade, who’s counting, and in front of this pizza place is where John and I had our first kiss and where I trapped him for the rest of his life. He had no idea what he was getting himself into with that one, innocent kiss. Welcome to a lifetime, bun. And that’s a small story about fate and romance and shit.
Reason for above story – At the farm they make brick oven pizzas. The original building where it all started for them is called “The Pizza Hut”, which was really cool to photograph John in front of due to him being my O.G. pizza guy. I forced him into the doorway and said “do something” while I snapped a picture. Still working on my photography bedside manner.
Oh P.S. his nickname is NOT “bun” because of his hair. This nickname developed yearssss ago because, well I’ll just say it, he has a great butt. So I would always say “check out those buns” and alas, a nickname was born. Okay bye.
Enjoy the pics and thanks for reading, xo
*Note, Logan is currently putting almost everything into his mouth all the time and sometimes chokes himself by accident because he is a baby and doesn’t know better don’t make fun of him and so here is that happening with my finger. And the one sneaky picture of me.
I’ll be excepting all photography bookings at farms only… *Is she serious or joking, who knows*