I have been shooting with Meadow Lark Farm dinners around Boulder a lot this past summer. Like a circus they come for a single performance then pack up and disappear like they were never there. A table for 44 is set on the edge of a field with Limoge vintage dishes, antique silver, and a long linen tablecloth. Almost everything cooked is from the organic bounty is grown right there. The menu changes every night literally depending on which way the wind is blowing. The wine is completely intoxicating They feed me on what we call the VIP table, which is usually balancing act on a cooler behind Bella (their school bus tripped out as a kitchen). As the weather cools down, the steam and smoke are becoming more prominent.This collection of images is becoming overwhelming for me to edit, let alone share. They are coming from a place I have rarely let myself photograph from, shooting over a long period of time. My camera comes home smelling of smoke and covered with all kinds of very special olive oil. I put the camera down deep into what is being cooked. I crawl down to the roots in the fields. Sometimes when I look at my lens halfway through the night, it is a mess of everything I have submerged it in, but so is my shirt, so when I try cleaning it everything just smears. On the surface these dinners are about wonderful meals on a farm in the summer. Deeper down they are about an obsession with beauty for all the senses - visual, taste, touch, sound, smell, the air, the moment, the light - all there and gone in the span of a couple of hours. This shot of Veronica Volny and Alberto Sabbadini is rare exhale towards the end of the dinner last Saturday night at Aspen Moon - along with shots of the vegetarian paella on the grill, and the nightly shot of the compost.