Sense of Place Afton Neal

For my sense of place, I hope to capture still photos of my grandparents old cabin house. Located on harstine island, their quaint little single story home was something to behold. Accompanied by a log cabin built by my father and his father, their property was situated at the end of a long winding gravel driveway, isolated by the many arching trees that hung over head. Growing up I would visit my grandparents often, spending most of my time in the forest, breaking apart tree branches and wandering along side the many twisting trails and creeks. I spent a lot of time working away in my grandfathers workshop as well. Where my grandfather and I were able to bond over the creation of many strange objects and gadgets, that were thoughtfully put together using the assorted materials he had laying around. I remember waking up, and the early mornings being filled with the melancholy songs of chirping birds, with their pleasant calls echoing through the forest like a symphony. I hope to capture the essence of my childhood, where I was able to find myself lost deep in those woods. Where I was able to forge many fond memories that still sit vividly in my mind, hoping to reminisce about the good times spent with family members who are no longer here.