// There is also something mesmerizing about watching the flow forms of soil just below my feet — a small wave of soil continuously breaking over the sweeps rolling dangerously close to the row, and then, as if caught by a riptide, slipping back behind the steel. // 

Small Farmer’s Journal, Summer, Vol. 18, No. 3

 

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A river is a confluence of water sources, a merging of the earth’s sustaining and ever needed rainfall. It’s composition is as varied as it is common, a collection of the water being shed from origins local and upriver.

The Watershed.

Like that of the writing of a river, so is the story of The Watershed Cafe — a convergence of stories, lives, and earthen bounty. Hands planting and harvesting, a tractor powered by the sun, meals shared in community, livestock respected and raised with integrity.

 

Local.

Sustainable.

Green.

More than mere marketing words, but a way of life…a gift, our tethering to the earth and the earth to us.

 

And so it was that I visited three tributaries of The Watershed Cafe: Common Harvest FarmPeterson Craftsman Meats, and Foxtail Farm, and stumbled upon a story greater and more beautiful than ever imagined.

 

Bon Appétit!

 

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xo,

Kelsea

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One rainy Spring weekend I traveled to the windy city of Chicago, IL to meet and photograph this delightful, and recently added on to, family. They welcomed me into their home as friends, and we marveled at tiny toes and fingers, reveled in that perfect and fleeting newborn smell, and chuckled at the very certain protest of diaper changes. It was a morning of warm beverages and even warmer blankets, neighbors with well wishes, and conversations of dreams and wonderment. It was relaxed and honest and, I think, when a family is at their most lovely, for there are very few things in this world as beautiful as someone seeing the person they love, loving on the child they’re loving, together.

 

 

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xo,

Kelsea

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The gift of life is a wonderment, if one slows down long enough to give it thought: the gift of breath, of feeling, of connection to others. We know, deep down, that these simple measures are what bring the greatest fulfillment in life, and yet it is remarkably (and unfortunately) easy to find oneself caught up in The Hurry (and forgetting) of it all. And so it was decided that this hurry — that daily rush — was to be left to busy itself elsewhere, as it had no presence in this story.

For the telling of a story must always leave the storyteller a bit changed, the humbling inspiration of being witness to the very windows of life itself, by personal transition and paths to follow;

for these two, in their quiet strength and steadfast way,

were, before me, becoming mother and father.

 

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xo,

Kelsea

 

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“I believe in kindness. Also in mischief.”

-Mary Oliver

A simple, unscripted family morning

nestled amidst the bluffs of the St. Croix River.

A celebration of the adventure of childhood.

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xo,

Kelsea

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Days.

Minutes.

Hours.

Our stories are always growing, changing shape, moving forward with but one constant — they’re ours. And just as much as they belong to us we are tied to them: the sophie giraffes, footed pajamas, the overwhelming bond of eye contact; creating a thread of love so tangible that there will be no undoing. Since these images were made there have been many firsts for this tiny little prince…first foods, first tooth, a first time sitting and perhaps even first steps. While these feats are no more unique in and of themselves than the every day human, they are real and joyful celebrations to the souls of this story, events which are bonded to that first tangible thread, anchoring us to home.

There is no perfection, only life. There is no rewind, only love. And as we look through the sieve of hindsight, we understand even more that these common threads are what remain.

Time, perhaps, is our greatest gift.

 

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Kelsea

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