Theresa Ann Holst, I am a devoted mother who balances my family life with my passion for photography.

Trained in photography at the Art Institute of Colorado, I have the intensity of an artist, yet unlike some artists I possess the strong customer service skills required of my day job as manager of visitor services at the Colorado Statehouse.

Searching for beauty

Finding beauty in ordinary spaces and human faces

September Midnight

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.
—Sara Teasdale