Same Clay - ongoing

On summer mornings in Tiger, Georgia, mist settles over a field, and across it, barely visible, is the Chapel of St. Stephen. Morning coffee conversations drift across the rolling hills. I have returned to these mountains across two decades, first as a teenager, then as a college student, and now as a priest-chaplain at a Catholic summer camp.

On those same mornings, the chapel is full yet quiet. Favorite spots are passed down from summer to summer. Community builds through common experience, rooting people to these mountains before they ever realize it has happened. These photographs follow that rooting, in the same hills and the same clay that have held me since my first visit