Summer Family Photos in Novi, Michigan

Where the Sun Glows and So Do the Opinions

It started like most summer family photo sessions in Southeast Michigan: a happy crew, coordinated outfits, and that unmistakable Novi park scent that’s equal parts fresh-cut grass and someone grilling burgers nearby. It was golden hour—the kind of light photographers dream of. Birds were chirping, and a squirrel did a backflip off a trash can. All good signs.

Then...

Not just tagging along. No, she had laminated plans. A full binder, color-coded with tabs like “Pinterest Musts” and “Unflattering Angles.” She was ready for battle.

“Hi! I’m Carol,” she beamed, adjusting her grandson’s collar while extending a hand to shake mine. “I’ve done some research. Just here to help.”

Now, the actual family—mom, dad, two kids six and nine, were troopers. The parents had that combination of exhaustion and optimism only found in people who pack snacks, drinks, and bribes. The youngest had a popsicle stain and a vendetta against shoes. The older one kept posing like Spider-Man.

We started shooting. The light was beautiful, the setting was that classic Novi family photo backdrop. soft grass, wide open space, trees glowing in the sun. Everything was great… until I heard:

“Could you angle them more toward the sun? I read it softens double chins.”

I turned. Carol was standing just off-frame, holding a wide-brimmed hat and gesturing like a backup dancer at a music festival.

Mom smiled with the thinnest patience, “Thanks, Mom, but we’re good.”

Carol nodded. “Oh, I’m not in the way—I’m just making sure nobody looks washed out.”

I crouched down to get a low angle of the kids tackling Dad. They were laughing, rolling in the grass, one kid yelling “I’m a velociraptor!” The moment was pure Michigan summer: messy, warm, hilarious.

Then Carol stepped into frame again—this time with sunscreen.

“Everyone reapply! We don’t want nose burns in the holiday card.”

Eventually, we migrated to a shaded area—those tall oaks in Maybury State Park that filter the sun like a dream. Mom sat on a picnic blanket. Dad leaned back behind her. The kids flopped into her lap like golden retrievers. And for a brief second, no one was talking about chin angles or shadows or “energy.”

“Okay,” I said, “Just be together. Don’t worry about the camera.”

They started telling knock-knock jokes. The youngest asked if dinosaurs ever went to Target. Dad said no, but maybe they had their own Costco. Everyone laughed.

Click.

That was the one. The real one.

The one you print big and hang above the couch.

Not because it’s technically perfect—but because it feels like your family.

Carol eventually sat on a nearby bench, reviewing her binder like a judge from a 2003 episode of America’s Next Top Model. As we wrapped up, she approached me again.

“You’ve got good instincts,” she said. “You ever do holiday minis? I have ideas.”

I smiled. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Here’s the thing about summer family photography in Southeast Michigan: it’s never just about smiles and sunlight. It’s about the people who show up, the chaos they bring, and the love that leaks out anyway—through the giggles, the stickiness, the sass, and the stubbornness.

And tucked between the sunscreen breaks and unsolicited posing advice, there’s always a moment that’s completely, beautifully honest.

That’s the one you keep.