"I'll take it," I said to the woman in the downtown LaPorte antique store. She had just taken a vintage pearl necklace out of the showcase for me. The price was right and it was a unique piece. So I stepped up to the counter, set down my camera on the glass top and began to reach for my purse. As soon as she spotted my camera, she struck up a conversation about it, and I knew from having previously been in the store that she was a kindred photographer spirit. It was evident to her keen eye that it was a gorgeous Indiana Saturday morning, I was armed with my camera and I was headed out for a photo walk. My husband was downstairs sorting through an entire basement of vinyl and knowing he was probably going to be there a while, I turned for the stairs to let him know I was heading out. My new photographer kindred spirit friend, however, shooed me out the front door with assurances that when my husband emerged from the bowels of the antique store, precious vinyl treasures in hand, she would let him know where I was.
Indiana towns have a character all their own and LaPorte is no exception. If all those wonderful old facades and brick walls could talk, what stories they would tell. I strolled up one street and down another, around blocks and through alleyways, gazing into dusty storefront windows and admiring the sturdy small-town Indiana architecture. I wandered and explored and photographed for several hours that day. My phone buzzed with the text that simply said, "Where are you?" while I was a block down the street and I took a few last photos as I made my way back to the antique store where my photo walk had begun. It had been a fantastic morning.
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