Three years ago, my husband gave me a camera for my birthday.
At the time, it was just a birthday present.
Neither of us knew he had essentially handed me the beginning of an entirely new life.
That camera turned into photographs. Those photographs turned into adventures. The adventures turned into clients. And somehow, over the last three years, that birthday present grew into this beautifully crazy business I now call Pixcapades.
But there is something about this business that most people never see.
Pixcapades may have my name attached to it, but I have never built it completely alone.
Two people in particular have been standing behind me, beside me, and occasionally hiding behind trees and rocks with cameras in their hands while strangers got engaged.
My husband and my daughter.
And before Pixcapades moves into its next chapter, they deserve some recognition.
It Started With Him
My husband is the reason I had that first camera in my hands.
He didn't just buy me photography equipment.
Without knowing it, he gave me a tool that would eventually help give me my life back.
Almost four years ago, something happened to me that I don't talk about publicly.
Afterward, I changed.
For a long time, I was afraid to go places alone. Even being out in public by myself could feel overwhelming.
My world had gotten smaller.
And then, little by little, the mountains helped make it bigger again.
My husband and my daughter went hiking with me. I had my camera in my hands, which gave me something to focus on besides everything happening inside my head.
I started photographing landscapes.
Wildlife.
People.
Light coming through the trees.
Little moments that gave me a reason to keep looking outward.
Eventually, I started venturing farther.
Then I started hiking on my own.
Eventually, I became a tour guide and photographer in Rocky Mountain National Park, spending my days out on trails with people I had sometimes only met that morning.
Somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn't as afraid anymore.
Photography and the outdoors didn't magically erase what happened to me.
But they helped me rebuild something I thought I had lost.
My confidence.
My independence.
My trust in myself.
And, unexpectedly, my faith in other people.
The People on the Trail
There is something about spending enough time in the mountains that restores your faith in humanity a little bit.
People say hello.
They ask if you're okay.
They tell you when they've seen wildlife ahead.
They warn you about ice on the trail.
They offer directions.
They celebrate with complete strangers at overlooks.
They stop to help when someone falls.
And when you're photographing a surprise proposal, sometimes complete strangers figure out what is happening and quietly become part of protecting the secret.
I've watched people pause on trails so I could get a shot.
I've watched strangers light up when they realize someone is about to propose.
I've watched people who will probably never see each other again genuinely celebrate someone's happiest moment.
After spending a period of my life afraid of people, those little interactions mattered more than anyone around me probably realized.
The trails slowly reminded me that there is still so much kindness in the world.
And my family helped me feel safe enough to get back out there and discover it.
A Birthday Present Became Something Much Bigger
Since giving me that camera, my husband has watched this little idea grow into something neither of us expected.
There have been early mornings, late nights, long drives, unpredictable weather, hours spent editing, website changes, business ideas, location scouting, client calls, and countless conversations that probably started with:
“So, I have an idea…”
And somehow, he still listens.
He has also stepped in as my second shooter for multiple sessions over the years.
There is something pretty special about looking across a mountainside during a shoot and seeing the person who helped start all of this standing there helping me make it happen.
More importantly, he has supported the dream even when the dream became inconvenient.
Businesses don't grow neatly.
They take over kitchen tables. They interrupt weekends. They change schedules. They require investments before you know whether those investments will work. They involve a lot of experimenting, second-guessing, learning, celebrating, and occasionally asking yourself what in the world you have gotten yourself into.
Through all of that, he has supported me.
And I don't say that lightly.
Because he wasn't only supporting a business.
He was supporting something that was helping me become myself again.
Then There Is My 15-Year-Old Trail Partner
If you've booked a surprise proposal with me recently, there is a very good chance another person was secretly somewhere on that mountain with us.
My daughter.
She is 15.
And she hates hiking.
Which makes what she has done for me even more meaningful.
Over the last year, she has stepped up and joined me for almost every proposal shoot.
That means getting up at hours when most teenagers—and reasonable adults—should absolutely still be asleep.
It means hiking in the dark.
It means carrying camera gear.
It means cold mornings, early alarms,
waiting quietly, hiding along trails, learning where to stand, watching angles, and helping me capture moments that only happen once.
But her role in all of this started before Pixcapades became what it is today.
She was one of the people who went outside with me when going places by myself was still hard.
She was beside me on hikes while I was slowly learning to trust myself again.
I'm not sure a 15-year-old can fully understand what that has meant to me.
Maybe someday she will.
She has also become really good behind a camera.
There have been proposals where having another photographer positioned somewhere completely different allowed us to capture reactions and perspectives that I simply couldn't have gotten alone.
And I've watched her learn how to anticipate those moments.
Where to stand.
When to move.
When not to move.
How to disappear into the background.
And how to understand that sometimes the most important photograph isn't the perfectly posed one—it is the split second when someone realizes their entire life is about to change.
She has helped me give couples those photographs.
There are grown adults who would complain about waking up before sunrise to hike into the mountains carrying camera equipment.
My 15-year-old has repeatedly done it for her mom.
Even though she would probably rather be almost anywhere else.
That means more to me than she probably realizes right now.
Pixcapades Is Growing Up a Little
And now things are changing again.
My daughter is heading back to school.
My husband is taking on new responsibilities at work.
And Pixcapades has grown to the point where I can't keep relying on my family to rearrange their lives every time someone decides to propose on top of a mountain.
So I am doing something that feels both exciting and a little strange.
I'm bringing additional photographers onto the Pixcapades team.
For the first time, this business that started with a birthday camera, one photographer, and family members willing to get dragged into my adventures is becoming an actual team.
I've been interviewing photographers and taking finalists on assessment hikes because this isn't simply about finding someone who can take a pretty picture.
They need to understand what makes a Pixcapades proposal different.
They need to know how to move quietly along a trail without ruining the surprise.
They need to recognize good angles before the moment happens.
They need to understand the mountains.
They need to be prepared for weather, wildlife, changing conditions, early mornings, and long hikes.
Most importantly, they need to understand that we aren't just photographing people standing in beautiful scenery.
We are being trusted with one of the biggest moments of someone's life.
That responsibility matters to me.
A lot.
Growing Doesn't Mean Replacing
Bringing on photographers isn't replacing the people who helped me get here.
It's actually happening because of them.
Because my husband supported the ridiculous ideas.
Because my daughter climbed mountains she didn't want to climb.
Because they were willing to walk beside me before I was confident enough to walk those trails alone.
Because they gave me the ability to say yes to opportunities before Pixcapades was big enough to have a team.
They helped me build the foundation.
Not just of Pixcapades.
In a lot of ways, they helped me rebuild me.
Now I get to build on it.
There will still be plenty of mornings when I'm the one hiding beside a trail waiting for someone to pull out a ring.
There will probably still be days when my husband picks up a camera.
And I'm sure my daughter hasn't escaped mountain photography forever—no matter how much she might hope otherwise.
But they shouldn't have to carry the business with me.
They've already helped me farther than I ever expected them to.
So This One Is for Them
To my husband:
Thank you for buying me a camera three years ago.
You probably thought you were buying me a birthday present.
Instead, you helped give me a reason to get back outside.
You helped me rediscover something I loved.
You helped me find confidence I wasn't sure I would ever completely get back.
And somewhere along the way, that camera became a business.
Thank you for photographing beside me, listening to every business idea, supporting the risks, and believing in what I was building—even while I was still figuring out exactly what that was.
And to my daughter:
Thank you for walking beside me.
Before the proposal shoots.
Before the business grew.
Before hiking became something I was comfortable doing alone again.
And then, later, thank you for getting out of bed before sunrise.
Thank you for hiking when you absolutely did not want to hike.
Thank you for carrying gear, hiding behind trees, learning the shots, watching my back, and helping me capture moments that families will probably look at for the rest of their lives.
One day, when you look back at Pixcapades, I hope you understand something.
You weren't just helping Mom at work.
You helped build this.
There are photographs hanging on walls and sitting in albums because you were standing on another part of the trail with a camera in your hands.
There are couples who have two completely different perspectives of the moment they became engaged because you were there.
But there is something even bigger than that.
Both of you helped me find my way back into the world.
You walked trails with me until I could walk them alone.
You stood beside me until I trusted myself enough to stand on my own.
And because of that, I found photography.
I found the mountains.
I became a guide.
I built a business.
I met incredible people.
I watched strangers show kindness to each other over and over again.
And somewhere in all of those miles, photographs, conversations, sunrises, wildlife encounters, and surprise proposals…
I found myself again.
Three years ago, Pixcapades started with a camera.
But the story behind that camera started a little earlier.
It started with two people willing to walk beside me when I needed them.
Then it became a family adventure.
And now, somehow, it is becoming a team.
I have no idea exactly what the next three years will look like.
But if they are anything like the first three, I'm pretty sure they're going to be beautifully crazy.
And I wouldn't have gotten here without the two of you.
Thank you for believing in me until I could believe in myself again.
