48326. “The sidewalks were haunted by dust ghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up, swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice on the lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol- lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed a volcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every- where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritable dogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon- taneous combustion at three in the morning. Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element for element. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no sound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serene vapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were brass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high- tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threat above the unslept houses. The cicadas sang louder and yet louder. The sun did not rise, it overflowed.” ― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

“The sidewalks were haunted by dust ghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up, swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice on the lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol- lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed a volcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every- where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritable dogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon- taneous combustion at three in the morning.  Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element for element. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no sound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serene vapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were brass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high- tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threat above the unslept houses. The cicadas sang louder and yet louder. The sun did not rise, it overflowed.” ― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine
“The sidewalks were haunted by dust
ghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up,
swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice on
the lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol-
lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed a
volcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every-
where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritable
dogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon-
taneous combustion at three in the morning.
Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element for
element. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with no
sound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep
over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serene
vapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks were
brass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high-
tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threat
above the unslept houses.
The cicadas sang louder and yet louder.
The sun did not rise, it overflowed.”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

 

 

 

 

Hello! My name is Liz—welcome to my quest of becoming the first woman (that I know of) to collect, edit, and publish one million photographs to document my journey through this vast, beautiful, diverse, and complex world that we live in.

I spent my childhood moving around small towns in the Midwest. After completing high school in Minnesota, I relocated to St. Louis, Missouri to attend college. I spent the second semester of my sophomore year in Haifa, Israel which solidified my love of travel my passion for new cultures.  I spent some time on the East Coast after college but didn’t have nearly enough time to explore.

After school, I took a job teaching English at a private school in Anyang, South Korea. After two and a half years of living and working in Asia, I decided it was time to come home to the United States and lay down some roots.

In 2010 I had the opportunity to move to Seattle and fell in love with the mountains, the ocean, the food, and the people. My life in the Pacific Northwest has allowed me to pursue my many passions including my rescue dog, Rico, photography, hiking, scuba diving, pottery, cooking, gummy candy, sugar cookies, coffee, tea, running, art in all forms, and travel. I spent ten wonderful years in Seattle and then relocated to a much smaller town of Camas, Washington–just 20 minutes outside of Portland, Oregon in 2020.

In 2018 I took up throwing pottery. This only fueled my creativity further and I found that my photos got better and better the more time that I spent on the pottery wheel.

In 2019 I took a job that allowed me to travel extensively around the West Coast. I had the opportunity to fall in love with and photograph cities of the Western United States.

 

My current goals include: photographing all 50 of the United States, photographing 10 Canadian providences, photographing 100 countries, trying everything on my massive cooking and baking bucket list, completing and photographing 1,000 pottery projects, learning and photographing how to blow glass, and and capturing nature’s beauty..

It is my hope that this project encourages at least one person to live life to the fullest and to see the beauty in both the big and small things that this world as to offer.

Liz

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