There is hope

February is my least favorite month of the year. The only bright spot being my mother's birthday right at the very end. Every year I find myself depressed by the lack of color, the constant rain, having to keep my windows shut. I always forget this until I am actually entering February and then I wonder why I am so blah. Grey.

I think about my friend in South Africa and how right now she is living through the heat of summer. How on her end of the globe her kids are barefoot, eating summer fruit and vegetables, and enjoying sunny days, probably wishing that she could just have one cool day of my winter. :)

I forget that underneath all the greyness here the seeds of life are readying themselves and that life is preparing for its grand spring entrance. It is just a matter of time. A new chapter.

As I write this I smile at the realization that this is not only true for nature's world but for my own personal world as well. I envy those that seem to be enjoying the gift of a good, happy, warm season in their life, wishing I could stand in their shoes for moment. I am reminded that deep under the winter soil of my life, the seeds of life are spinning in their cocoons, waiting for the right time to burst into newness. Shed their skin and become what they were created to be.

It is just a matter of time. 

(After writing this I looked out my window to see a rainbow over the eastern hills.)

A little more of Miss Scarlett

Here are the rest of the handful of pictures I took yesterday of little Miss Scarlett.
My favorite one...a big yawn. She went straight to Dreamland soon after this.

Can you believe that she is smiling in her first week of life? Her mama and I discussed how both of our daughters smiled so early--how it took us a few times to really believe that they were smiling...at us! Could it be? Before Scarlett was born her grandmother had a dream that she would be born smiling and in her first hours of life she did! There is something innately relational about girls: sensitive, searching for our approval and connection, and longing to connect with us. If you have a daughter perhaps you can relate?

And there is something so soft about them too. :)

(Pix from yesterday, sans all the editing.)

And these are her ballet slippers! Little Scarlett has sweet little ballet slippers and she does not even know it yet . She just sleeps and poops and eats and hangs out in big people's arms and does not even know how cute she is. (I love babies.)

I have to do a little plug here for her talented mama...
If you would like to visit Scarlett's nursery, you can visit it here.
Her mama is talented with fabric scraps and junk yard finds and put together the sweetest nursery you have ever seen. It was featured on Ohdeedoh--which is a very fun design blog.
Very cool!

Happy Thursday everyone!

A little challenge from little Scarlett

Dear blogger friend, let me do a little explaining:
Last month my art group leader gave us a challenge to do something with our art in a fashion that is not our typical m.o. She wanted us to challenge ourselves to move outside of the typical way we go about creating our masterpieces. Perhaps we would learn something about ourselves, discover a new method, or use a different part of our brain. (Really? There's more than one part of my brain that I use?) I spent time flipping through blogs of various photographers looking at their styles and perspectives and their editing techniques. Holy cow, there are a lot of photographers out there. I felt a bit intimidated for sure.
So when a sweet friend of mine, Jodi, had her third baby last week I asked her if I could just come over and challenge myself with capturing something outside of my "normal". When I arrived there today I felt totally clueless. Duh. I really did not know what I was doing, or trying to do. I took a handful of pictures, chatted, and came home. After some fiddling here, and fiddling there, I tried to go with the "look" of all that baby photography that is out there that is muted and pastel-y, with a hint of texture added for effect (affect?). All of which served to point out that the people who edit like that are crazy experts at it, and I have no idea what I am doing! However, it was a bit of fun to play with color and textures, all of which I love to dabble in.

So. There you go. With that all said, please let me introduce you to Scarlett...

Those lips are just so perfectly pouty and perfectly baby.

Scarlett's amazing miraculous entrance into this world is documented here.
After you read it you will all agree with me that her mother possesses super human powers.

Come back tomorrow and I will share a couple more that are more in the style of "me".

(Thanks Jodi for letting me "play" today.)

True story

Once upon a time there was a girl who was born into a very wealthy family. Very wealthy.

Her father was a hard working rancher who came from a line of wealthy land owners. He was larger than life.

Of course he expected his daughter to marry a man who held his same work ethic, and love for the land.

But she was drawn to the social life and loved to run in the high class social circles that were popping up everywhere in this new western frontier.

Her wealth afforded her way of life and her friends were many.

And she did not care for her father's way of life.

It is no surprise that this wealthy young daughter, with her high class style and extroverted nature, met the man of her desires.

But he was not a land owner, nor did his wealth match that of hers.

It was his dashing good looks, sense of style, and popularity that drew her to him and the two fell madly...no, tragically... in love.

As you might have guessed, the father was not pleased with his daughter's suitor. He viewed the young man with scepticism and mistrust.

On his death bed he pleaded with his daughter to promise that she would never marry the young man. Never.

She looked her father in the eye and swore to him to that she would carry out his wishes and swallowed her guilt.

Yet her guilt was not because she felt that she had loved the wrong man.

Her guilt swelled from the fact that she had already secretly eloped with her lover just several months before!

Yes, she was now regretting her choices. How could she possible tell her father the truth?

So she and her lover lived apart and kept their union a secret until her father passed away and the two finally were able to reveal their union.

They inherited land and wealth and all of the responsibilities that come from receiving them.

They had a daughter.

They built a summer home in a fertile valley and traveled there often.

Yet it was doomed from the start...as often happens when affairs of the heart are birthed in sorrid passion and secrecy. How could they possibly survive?

As time went on, they spent much of their lives apart. (Many say it was because of her unresolved guilt.)

The husband took over the land and became what his father-in-law had always wished her suitor to be: an obsessed, hard working land owner.

Yet, she could not stay away from the fashionable social circles that she and her lover had once visited together.

As their only daughter grew she rarely saw her father. Her mother wished more for her than living a rancher's life and trained her in the ways of high class society.

So of course, there was much elation when her daughter was married off to a wealthy Baron.

Though it too, was a doomed affair.

Upon learning that her father was deathly ill, alone, without her mother's care, the daughter who was a million miles away, collapsed into a nervous breakdown and was admitted to an asylum.

When the father passed the irony was cruel: he was buried next to his father-in-law, the man who had at one time no faith or belief in his character or motives.

Shortly after hearing of her father's death, one night the daughter went wandering in the asylum and jumped out of a window to her death.

Leaving the mother alone...the mother who was once a daughter of a wealthy land owner that ran head long into a life of passion, secrecy, vanity, and tragedy.


I visit their summer home often when the sun is out and I have a moment to wander, for it still stands in the center of town as a historical landmark. I discovered the antiqued rod iron fences (above) in the first week I moved here over four years ago. No one has disturbed their comfortable position leaning up against the side porch. No one has carted them off. I often wonder at their age. The rust has grown into a beautifully aged patina and the grass has grown up between the iron posts. Time just passes.

I meet many people who have no idea that this historical landmark was the first home in this beautiful valley, that it carries with it such a colorful history. (They also have no idea that our town is named after that dashing young man who married into wealth.) I have been inside of it a few times and it looks and feels like a home that was built over 100 years ago: wooden planked floors, creaky stairs cases, antique light fixtures, wrap around porches. Whether I visit inside or outside I often wished the fences and walls could speak.

Maybe they would tell me that they are not surprised that life is not much different...that people still marry for passion, lie to their parents, loose themselves in wealth, succomb to vanity, jump out of windows. They would affirm my belief that though humanity is capable of great good, we are all capable at times of royally messing things up.

Some baby blues with a side of Doo-wap

I wanted you to see his amazing baby blues first because they wouldn't have been the first thing you noticed if I had shown you...

Is not that hair just the most adorable thing you've ever seen? Apparently his dad's been styling it. (Go Dad!) Is that a little guy version of a pompadour? I keep wanting to call it a Doo-wap.
Whatever you call it, it just tickles me to my funny bone.
And I just had to show him off in black and white (with a hint of vanilla tint) because I think he is just the most precious thing.
(Forget the hair, those eyes are just killers.)

I took this little guy's picture when he was weeks old and he just keeps getting cuter and cuter every time I see him.

p.s. Thank you for all the kind and encouraging comments from my birthday blog post. :) I love meeting people in Blogland who have stumbled upon my little blog. And I love that there are friends all over the world (Hi Hilmari!) who check in with their morning tea, or after the kids are put down at night. It's sad I can't give you all big hugs but know that I would if I could.
x0x0

Happy Blog Birthday

Time for a party people!

A year ago today I set out to start a daily photography blog with the sole purpose of following a passion, improving my skills, and leaving a trail of memories for my kids. I had some idea (and I hoped) that the journey would be fruitful. But as often happens when we get a wild hair brained idea in our heads, we set out unaware of what the experience will actually hold. Oh yeah, I had no idea (my family had no idea either)...

As I stand at the year long mile marker looking waaaaaaay back at the girl poised at the start line (sigh--I was till in my 30's), I find that I am incredibly proud of myself. I am not sure I have ever felt this sense of accomplishment in myself. (It must be something akin to finishing a marathon, or loosing weight, getting to the top of Mt. Everest?) I am certainly proud of myself for sticking with it. Proud of myself for the huge improvement in my skills. And most surprisingly, I am proud of the fruitful self discovery that unfolded with clarity and sureness. This was the single most beautiful gift that I received and one that will push me onward to continue blogging.

So that's the reader's digest version.

You can move on to visit your next blog or park yourself here for a moment while you peek into what the journey has shown me. I have written this mostly for myself as a mile marker, but perhaps some of it will resonate with you, especially if you know me, and if you have already been where I am.

So here goes...

I discovered I am more passionate about photography today than I was a year ago.
There are not enough adequate words to describe the fulfillment I experience when I am behind the lens. To say it is a "calling" makes it sound a little cliche to me. I believe I just discovered the perfect vehicle to express the creative spirit that I have always had, and that has longed to express itself in a manner that is meaningful to me. There is not a day that goes by that I do not want to pick up my camera. The thirst is that real.

I discovered I have greatly improved.
This came as a surprise...and not a surprise. I just didn't know how much and to what depth I would grow. Inch by inch I pushed my technical skills and my editing skills, which I also discovered was another place to be creative. And moment by moment I pushed my creative eye to "see". There were only a handful of days I struggled to pick up my camera (rainy days), yet every time I did I found that life was waiting for me to discover it. The daily practice of sowing my seeds produced much more fruit than I ever could have imagined. It got me wondering what else in my life I could improve upon if I set my mind to daily work on it? It also made me realize that the act of picking up my camera every single day is what makes a good photographer into a great one.

I learned that safety is equal to stagnation.
I could pick up my camera every day and take the same safe pictures, hunt for the same safe light but it would not push me to be better. I could improve upon what I was safely doing, but never would I learn to be a pro, excellent, unique, if I shied away from the difficult. There were moments (during photo shoots) that brought me to the edge of my skill level and yet pushing myself through it, in the end, created growth. Every great photographer will tell you that learning to shoot in all situations is what produces that instinctual familiarity with your camera.
I learned that I needed that and that I wanted it. Safe is fun, but challenge will grow me.

I discovered how to listen to myself.
As I listened to well meaning friends encourage me to go step up my business and begin marketing myself as a child/family/whatever photographer, I was always left with a nagging "not yet" in the back of my heart. From past experiences and from watching others I know that all too often we are too quick to outline the future for ourselves. We take the obvious logical road and pick the fruit before its ripe. I needed to listen to myself and that nagging "not yet" and ask myself questions. (To which I am still asking.) Questions such as: For what purpose do I pick up my camera? Do I just want to make money? Do I not want to be left behind? Do I just want accolades? What truly ignites my passion when I do get behind my lens? What is that nagging feeling about? Why am I so hesitant?

Well...
I discovered that I do not care about the money or the accolades...at all. I want to be true to my creative spirit even if it never means making a dime.
(That was a relief to discover.)
This I discovered from two experiences.
The first was when I found myself actually being paid to do photography shoots. While I loved the chance to capture friend's kids or take family photos I found that I struggled with having to pose people and perform to client's expectations. It went against my need to be the "fly on the wall". I was often distracted with finding the moments of candor and spontaneity and story. I thought that if I was going to be a "pro" I needed to be and give what people wanted and if this was how I was going to make money, then I did not want the job. Sounds so stupidly silly as I write, but slowly it donned on me that I needed to be true to the type of photographer I innately was. Tracey was in charge (duh). I also realized that if it weren't for the fact that I really should be compensated for my time (my family deserves it and I deserve it for all the hours I put into it) I would totally shoot for free. However, if people wanted what I had to offer, then they would find me until I was ready to "step up into a full time business"--whatever that looks like.

The second experience affirmed the first one. When Haiti was hit with a massive earth quake and the images of story after story flooded the internet, I found myself shedding actual tears over the longing to be there with my camera, to capture such an intense soulful, heart wrenching moment in time. For a brief moment I wanted to be a single, childless, poor traveling photo journalist, living out of a tent, anxious with the need to be out amongst the chaos capturing untold stories and nameless faces. I took notice of my response and listened. That moment of self reflection affirmed to me that I love to convey story, I love to document--in beautiful pictures and in words. This self discovery is the greatest gift I treasure from the year long process because it freed me from rushing into a type of business, to make money, that was not yet right for me. And, it freed me from pursing a mission that wasn't right for my purpose. As I commit to continuing my blog I am anxiously excited to discover how to marry my desires with a purpose that will bless many. I will be keeping my eyes and heart open.

Lastly,
I discovered that I needed to set my heart to more and more learning.
Though I have yet to discover how my photography will be used specifically in my future I am devoted to the process. If I do not arm myself with the tools of the trade then I will not be ready for the opportunities that present themselves. For the next six months I have committed myself to stepping up my skill level and my editing skills. I have already sat with my hubby and told him what I needed--a better editing program, more memory on my computer, a class, technical knowledge, whatever it takes. I look forward to this time. And if I happen to do a photo shoot here and there, then it is the way of provision, and a chance to happily practice.

If you have stuck with me to the end of this post, and even to the end of my year long journey, then I have nothing but gratitude and appreciation for you. I have spoken to many of you who peek into my life everyday and your encouragement means more to me than you know. Really. The fact that my creativity blesses someone is worth more than money or accolades. Words can't express...

Thank you, thank you for following me on my journey.

And thank you to my family who have patiently encouraged me--patiently waited for their dinners, good night kisses, and for me to put down my camera so that I could engage with them. Thank you for letting me spend so much time on discovering myself.

Hoping that you all would follow me as I journey on into the next mile...

Can you really blame me??

I realized today that by now some of you are familiar with my Bean and her friends and their outside pursuits, and the geographical nature of the park across the street. Geez, I know I'm out there a lot following everyone around. But can you really blame me? Look at the light my friends! And such cute muses on which to practice my camera skills! I took these this past week when the sun was a welcome break from the storms we had been having. I was so giddy about the light that I stayed out there the entire time with them roaming the fields, soaking it all up.

I am supposed to tell you that this was the fairy forest. (Miss G was pretty excited.)

Ok...must explain: she was standing there in the open field with the light on her head and meowing to her fellow "kitty friends". I had to interrupt, just for tiny second, to get her to give me just one quick look over her shoulder.
(The light was killin' me.)

This was another outtake from the post I did a couple of days ago.
(In fact, when I first saw the other one I was about to delete it, but on second thought, kept it and put it in black and white and fell in love with it. It pays to not have a hasty delete finger.)

Off on her own. Again...had to catch that light on her hair.
(She's my other "Bean".)

There were some secret messages written at their "home base".
(Of course I was not privy to what they said.)

And then there was some serious planting, tending to the garden.

(Ahem) Excuse me while I just quickly point out again the marvelous light filtering through her hair.

Dirty garden hands are the best. I truly miss my old garden in my previous house. There is something about digging in the earth that is just so spiritual.

Sun catchers...

And then the glowing setting sun on my beautiful Bean...

Tomorrow is my ONE year blog birthday.
Can you believe it?
So much on my heart to share...

Hey Little Man...

Where ya goin'?
(Okay, I'll follow. I can do that.)

It seems as if you know where you're going. Even your shadow wants to follow.

From the looks of it, you seem to be in charge of your own universe.
On second thought...maybe you're the center of it.

You think that hat makes you look a little more "hip"?
(Hmmm, I'm not too sure about that blue pom pom.)

A snack? You wanna snack?
Alright. Snack it is.
(That blue pom pom is growin' on me kid.)

Hey now Little Man...I know it looks pretty interesting, but lets just look.
Uh...ok. Just one touch.

The mud is pretty cool huh? "Squishy" you say?
Yes. Very squishy.
(Remember, stay out of the puddle.)

Oops. Oh well. You might as well enjoy it.
(Everything is washable, right?)

How 'bout a little distraction? What's up in the sky? An airplane?!
Wow! See the airplane?
(Hmm, that's quite a dirty face you got goin' on.)

We'll have to come here more often, huh?
I had a good time talking with your mommy while we followed you around.
So glad you could explore.

Now, before I go, just keep those berries out of your mouth...they're not for eating. Yucky!
Little Man...keep them out of your mouth...

(not pictured: berries being spit out of Little Man's mouth.)

the purest of friendship...

loves without condition
forgives when forgiveness is required...refuses not an apology
attaches no strings
reserves judgment, assumes nothing, waits for truth
works to edify each other, does not tear down
holds no grudges
bears humility
creates safety
honors boundaries
never manipulates, intimidates
listens (even when understanding is slow)
carries each other's burdens
waits...patiently
sacrifices (even when it is painful)
does not keep score
sharpens, is willing to work things through
selflessly serves
turns the other cheek
cherishes, nourishes
withholds blame
takes ownership, where ownership is due
welcomes light in the dark-filled corners
rejoices with those who rejoice, weeps with those who weep
fosters honesty, vulnerability
values time together
creates history worth remembering


Never. Gives. Up.

precious

A little vulnerability here...

Lately, I have been dwelling on the beautiful, miraculous and yet sometimes tragic nature of life.

In the midst of devastating earthquakes, floods...to a friend loosing a baby five months into her pregnancy...to another miraculously birthing her baby in an emergency make-shift labor room on her bathroom floor...to my own personal circumstances, I have been reminded of the overwhelming reality that life carries no promises and no dress rehearsals. There are moments of deep gratitude and moments of endless tears.

It seems as if this one-act journey never exhausts itself from manifesting countless opportunities to test my beliefs and the strength of my heart.

And yet as the fragility of life has been painfully real to me in these last few weeks it stands in juxtaposition to the absolute amazing miraculousness of life itself. Pain and beauty side by side. It is what it is...throughout the course of our lives, at different times, we will experience one or the other. The fact that the two walk together is what makes this life crazy, beautiful, fragile, and precious.