May 2014. I tapped into a personal project on a bit of a lark. I collaborated with a dozen or so other international photographers on a 100 Days of Summer idea — with the premise of shooting every day to preserve a slice of these childhood summers.
And so, I shot something every day that first summer — from vacations (errr, I mean trips) to daily chores to blooms in my garden to a tear in the screen door (brought on by an enthusiastic stick/sword). I captured breakfast on the back porch, strawberry picking, days at the pool, canoes on the lake, corn on the cob and watermelon drips — the ordinary to extraordinary. Labor Day arrived and I shuffled my growing crew off to school. The project shelved and life went on.
Then a post-soccer, blustery day in late November 2014 gave me an opportunity to pull those deliciously warm days into a book. It arrived several weeks later and, well, swoon.
Here, snuggled in his warm nest, a storm brewed icy flakes against our window. As countless times that winter, he reached for his story, his brothers’ story, our story with the same anticipation as the first time the cover was cracked. He was transported to sandy beaches in his toes, licking strawberry stained fingers and dancing in the sweet summer rain. Ben was four and asked thoughtful questions about what was happening on the pages before him, bringing his own experience to the conversation. And then he would spin off a separate, equally enchanting story, and come back to the next page. And repeat. For an hour.
And every time he reached the last page, he contemplatively sighed, wanting more, wanting it to go on forever.
Exactly what good books do for all of us.
I knew then we had made some magic. I went on to create summer images in these subsequent years and curating the books at the farthest possible point from our next summer. Every year the book arrives on frigid days, and we huddle around it, savoring each image and basking in our memory as if it is glowing beach fire in on our hands.
I will be enthusiastically starting my 100 Days of Summer project today for our fifth summer. I now have a library of our summers; I only regret not starting sooner. Jack will leave for college in four years, and while he is in fewer pictures (because teen), I so love that I will be able to physically hold eight gorgeous summers before he goes. It’s not too late to start capturing yours!
So, join me this year! I’ll cheer you on and help you make your own book when the cold wind blows. Follow me on Instagram on my newsletter, and we’ll share our summer.
Rules:
No rules!
My own personal guidelines are that I shoot every day on a combo of phone and professional camera, and when I see more I want to capture I do. I don’t narrow mine to only one finished image per day; our 2017 book contained over 300 images.
Don’t be daunted by “one hundred” days. I so love an -ish project … 100-ish Days of Summer is just as beautiful.
When I think of my own childhood, summer memories are always the first to surface.
Clubhouses, lemonade stands, sprinklers, freezer pops, bike rides, screen door slams. While it certainly wasn’t glamorous, it was every bit glorious. I don’t know what memories will stick for my own kids, but I’m overjoyed to not only capture theirs, but get them off my phone/computer and put them in their hands.
– Jen Lucas
Photos by Jen Lucas.