The sweltering grip of Coastal Alabama’s summer has finally broken. Cue the angels singing HALLELUJAH! As October winds down, the air has taken on that distinct coastal crispness—cool, sharp, and carrying the perfect blend of saltwater and woodsmoke. The skies cleared, temperatures dropped into the beautiful low 60s, and somehow that crisp air only made the absolute chaos of my life look more high-definition. Ha!
Life lately has been a relentless assault on my brain. Between the everyday ups and downs, the exhaustion that comes with a career in public service with Parks and Rec, and the physical aftermath of a colonoscopy, I’d been moving through a foggy haze. It was a bizarre contradiction: I felt entirely empty and light as air, yet completely anchored down by the heaviness of life.
Pivoting from that headspace into photographing live music isn’t always the glamorous escape people imagine. Some nights, it feels like dragging a ghost across Baldwin County, but it’s still the outlet that keeps me balanced. Driving down Highway 98 toward Fairhope, I could feel that mental fog beginning to lift, taking some of the anxiety with it. I was on my way to photograph Rhonda Hart opening for Sammy Kershaw—a dynamite lineup of real country storytelling and country royalty. Pretty freaking cool, if you ask me, and a night like that demanded proper preparation.
So, naturally, I shaved my legs.
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The backyard party of Baldwin County
In the heart of downtown Fairhope, Live at Five transforms the campus green of Coastal Alabama Community College into what might be Baldwin County’s ultimate backyard party. The magic unfolds at the Halstead Amphitheater, a 65,000-square-foot outdoor oasis surrounded by towering pine trees and mossy live oaks. I was so busy wandering around like a tourist in a trance that my camera nearly forgot it had a job. Severe venue distraction—my bad, y’all! But it’s the kind of place that manages to feel massive and intimate at the same time, like a really big fraternity party during rush week where everyone just happens to have exceptional taste in music.
The atmosphere is pure, unrushed Southern coastal bliss. Long before the first note rings out, a sea of lawn chairs, blankets, merch stands, and well-stocked BYOB coolers spreads across the open green space. The smell of food from local trucks mixes with that crisp late-October breeze, and there’s an unapologetic, homegrown energy to the whole place. All generations come together here. It basically doubles as a fraternity party and a family reunion for the Gulf Coast music scene, where you can’t walk five feet without bumping into a familiar face.
It’s a space genuinely fueled by community spirit, with proceeds from the gate flowing directly back into the local music scene through the Jacob Hall Memorial Music Grant. That makes the whole experience feel even more special. It’s the ideal place to drop the heaviness of life for a little while, sink into the rhythm, and get a good love-slap reminder of exactly why you fell in love with live music in the first place.
The green room pressure cooker: inside Rhonda’s one-hour trailer rehearsal
Rhonda was about to step onstage backed by a certified powerhouse of musical talent. On paper, the lineup had all the makings of something special: Carson Dyer on lead guitar, Emily Stuckey on harmonies and acoustic guitar, Jay Stafford wielding both mandolin and fiddle, Ethan Giles driving the rhythm section on drums, and Gary Nance locking down the groove on bass. That’s a whole lot of talent sharing one stage. But here’s the kicker: only two of these musicians had ever shared a stage together. For the rest of the group, tonight wasn’t just another gig. It was basically a musical blind date—their first time playing together as a collective unit.
Buckle up, buttercups, because we were officially in for a wild ride.
An hour and a half before showtime, I finally found my way to Rhonda’s trailer in the side-stage area. When I knocked on Rhonda’s door, it almost felt like she snatched me inside, pulling me out of thin air. I was just trying to look cool once I finally stuck the landing after taking flight courtesy of Rhonda. Excuse my dramatics, ha!
The vibe inside? Equal parts submarine bunker and musical pressure cooker. I found myself trying to flatten against a wall, attempting to turn into the real ghost of Baldwin County in the middle of a beautiful, chaotic musical time warp.
Tucked away on the side stage, six seriously talented individuals were crammed elbow-to-elbow, swimming in a strong cocktail of electric anxiety, hyper-focus, and absolute musical damage control. The trailer had transformed into a high-stakes incubator of raw musicianship. At the center of it all was the kitchen island—buried under sweating cans of Miller Lite, Ritz crackers, and a mapped-out setlist with “RHONDA” written across the top in black Sharpie. Everyone was double-checking to make sure they got the all-black-everything memo to be matchy-matchy for that synchronized stage look.
The trailer shut out the outside world, and the air was hot as the focus turned sharp as a tack. You could feel the shift as the small, cramped space instantly developed a “us-against-the-world” survival pact. For seasoned players, this kind of high-wire tension is pure adrenaline and basically addictive. Nothing builds instant musical chemistry like completely stripping away everyone’s comfort zones in a tight trailer. Bonds forged, mission accomplished—and then the pre-show scramble hit as everyone scattered to their own corners.
What happened next completely blew the musical rock gods’ minds...
The magic at Halstead
My first time in a photo pit was basically a comedy sketch. I was totally glued to my viewfinder while my brain hosted an aggressive boxing match against itself. The match was matching a little too hard: a stage looming what felt like 10 feet above my head, insane depth, six musicians, and me desperately spinning dials for ISO, shutter speed, and aperture. Safe to say the pit was low-key controlling me. I was literally conversing with my brain: Lordy day, raise your hand, ISO, and slow your roll, shutter speed. JAYSUS! Can everyone please share my brain space? Sharing is caring, DUH! But then Rhonda stepped onstage with her newly formed band and walked directly into the spotlight at the Live at Five Concert Series at Halstead Amphitheater—and all the pre-show anxiety I was feeling seemingly frolicked away.
Opening for country music legend Sammy Kershaw is a purdy big deal for any band, let alone a lineup of six insanely talented musicians who had never played a full show together until that exact moment. But the second the stage lights hit, that “us-against-the-world” trailer survival pact transformed into pure musical synchronicity.
The crowd didn’t just get a performance; they witnessed a high-energy show driven by Rhonda’s vocal range, delivery, and undeniable stage presence. They dove right into the groove with “Better Things to Do,” immediately setting the tone and showing the crowd exactly who was running the stage. Rhonda’s effortless vocal range was center stage. Without missing a beat, the band pivoted into the heartbreak rhythms of “Blame It on Your Heart.” Rhonda’s vocals leaped from gritty, soulful lows to a soaring upper register, keeping the energy surging right through a high-spirited rendition of Hank Williams’ classic “Jambalaya.”
I was so engaged with what was happening onstage that I had to remind myself to hit the shutter button and move—and I mean move! My feet can sometimes get stuck in the mud because I am just in awe of what’s going on. I made my way out of the photo pit and into the standing-only section. It was really cool seeing Rhonda lock in on guitar with Jay’s mandolin playing—she almost looked like a Jay fangirl, too! It was awesome, and it just proved the entire group’s fearless chemistry.
The band threw down a nasty, soulful jam on “Done Somebody Wrong” before ripping right into ZZ Top’s “Tush.” It was a moment where Carson Dyer’s searing lead guitar and Ethan Giles’ heavy-hitting drums proved the collective was operating on pure musical intuition. Rhonda completely commanded the amphitheater, putting on an absolute clinic in vocal control. She continued to seamlessly move from the sassy, sharp-witted, conversational storytelling of “Did I Shave My Legs for This?”, which she co-wrote and which was cut by Deana Carter, into a breathtakingly emotional performance of “Strawberry Wine” that had the entire crowd singing along with her every note.
The musicianship and chemistry only deepened as the performance progressed. Jay Stafford’s mandolin and fiddle locked into a tight, driving groove with Gary Nance’s bass line on “Something to Talk About,” while Emily Stuckey’s soulful acoustic layers and beautiful, radiant harmonies chased Rhonda’s amazing vocals on “When Will I Be Loved,” elevating the performance into something truly transcendent.
So much was happening onstage and all around me that it was hard to focus. I felt like there was a hamster in my brain that refused to get off the wheel! I mean, it was actually hard to comprehend.
Rhonda is known for keeping it lighthearted onstage. She called up a fan onstage for his birthday because he supposedly paid her $5,000 to play a particular song… that was something, ha! Carrying on. As the set entered the home stretch, the energy was electric and palpable—it could have scaled a mountain. The band found themselves rolling through the fierce rhythm of “Something Bad About My Baby” and the driving, restless pace of “Waiting on the Phone to Ring” before Rhonda unleashed the full, untamed power of her voice on Miranda Lambert’s “Gunpowder & Lead.” She brought the house completely down, and Sammy Kershaw may as well have given her the keys to the Cadillac because she drove it Cadillac style! She left every ounce of herself onstage with an incredible delivery of “No One Else on Earth” and a showstopping finale of “Coffee on the Table” that left us all breathless and actually asking ourselves: What just happened?
Afterglow
Lemme tell ya, finally getting to work a photo pit with my fellow live music camera nerd, Christopher Bryant, was a total blast! Chris really helped me settle in and find my way; it also helped that he thinks the world of me and definitely knows how to make a girl with a camera feel special. But honestly? The feeling is completely mutual. There is nothing better than shooting alongside someone who matches your energy and passion!
When this group of six highly talented individuals finally stepped onstage under the lights, that backstage pressure cooker exploded into an absolutely amazing performance, with six individuals becoming one collective, breathing being. The lack of a rehearsed safety net didn’t cause a trainwreck—instead, it demanded an utter synchronicity that left us breathless. Because they had to hang on every single note and look to each other for every cue, the music felt alive, dangerous, and brilliantly spontaneous. What the crowd witnessed wasn’t just a concert; it was pure magic born right there on the green of a college campus in downtown Fairhope.
But as Rhonda walked off the stage, the true weight of the moment hit me right in my feels, and I couldn’t help but feel an immense pride in everything she had overcome to stand there.
This performance wasn’t just a triumph of musicianship; it was a victory lap. This year for Rhonda, it’s been about perseverance—a word that has felt utterly personal all year. Rhonda has spent the last year fighting the battle of her life after a devastating cancer diagnosis. From the heavy reality of that news to undergoing major surgery at UAB in Birmingham, AL, her path back to this stage was filled with unimaginable hurdles that she so gracefully cleared. Yet, when she needed it most, the community completely wrapped its arms around her, rallying together with endless love and fundraising benefits to support her treatment and stand by her side. It’s living proof of what happens when a community refuses to let a beloved artist fall through the cracks.
To see her not just standing on that stage, but absolutely killing it, putting on a vocal clinic, and pouring her soul out to a packed, energetic crowd of people and a community that had her back was nothing short of amazing. Through it all, she has refused to be defined by a diagnosis, and her performance proved just how much she still has left to give. Friday night, she reclaimed her spotlight—which, ironically, never actually left her.
Unlike the heartbreak in the song “Did I Shave My Legs for This?”, this night delivered on every single promise.
So yes, I absolutely shaved my legs for this, and it was so incredibly worth it.
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