No Database

Here’s a problem that sounds harder than it is. New files arrive on the cutting board every hour. I sort them in passes, over several days. The automatic check keeps copying. So how does the same photo never get imported twice? No database. One small ledger, plus a cheap shortcut, do the whole job. The Ledger Does the Real Work When the hourly check copies a file onto the cutting board, it writes one line in a small record — a plain text ledger I’ve been calling R throughout this series. ...

There’s no database behind my daughter’s archive. No table of photos, no index, no metadata store. When the app needs to know what’s in “July 2026,” it opens the July 2026 folder and looks. That sounds lazy. I’d argue it’s the opposite — it’s the one decision that keeps the whole system simple enough for one person to maintain. How It’s Organized The archive is just folders on the NAS: ...

By this point in the pipeline, the boring parts are done. New files have been copied to the cutting board. I’ve picked out the ones that are my daughter. What’s left is the step that turns “a pile of selected files” into “a browsable month in her archive.” That’s one button. By now the picker has already moved my chosen files into a hand-off folder. In the app’s My Records tab, there’s a count of what’s waiting in that folder, and next to it a button that says, in effect, bring these in. I press it, and the rest happens on its own. ...

This is the post the whole series turns on. Everything before it is the problem; everything after it is possible because of the idea here. For two years I couldn’t sort my daughter’s photos. Not because there were too many — because I was trying to do it in the wrong place: inside the backup folder itself. Why Sorting Inside a Backup Is a Trap My phone auto-backs up to a folder on my NAS. My wife’s phone backs up to another. Those folders are my only copies of my daughter’s baby years. Naturally, I wanted to open them and pick out her best moments. ...

My daughter is three. My phone takes about 6,000 photos and videos a year — maybe more. I don’t have 6,000 interesting shots. Most of it is accidental taps, blurry motion, seventeen near-identical photos of the same bread I was about to eat. But somewhere in that pile are the clips I actually care about: her first steps, her laughing at something she found hilarious at the time, moments my wife and I know we’ll want to see again when she’s older. ...