winter wonderland

it’s only just begun, and i find myself giddy like a child.

appreciative of the snow that slows us down.
boots on. boots off.
mittens on. mittens off.

when the world turns quiet with snow, so does your mind.
you walk with intention when it’s a foot deep out there.

call me crazy, but i dig it.

*all photos taken with my iphone as i learn and relearn how to shoot with my nikon when the world turns white. (more snowy photo love to come!)

where past meets present

we walk a few miles along the coast. quietly, just the two of us, making our way up and around the beach boardwalk to the trail that follows the rocky coast. planks of wood slurp at the mud beneath our feet.

sometimes i am overwhelmed that i am even here at all.
here. home.
where past meets present.
all the memories of childhood collide and spill like oil on canvas.
he carries my past tucked under his arm, a smile on his face.
i meet him with sea breeze on my skin
grateful for this journey we are taking together.

it was a quiet long weekend, just the two of us.
i hope you all also enjoyed your time together this holiday weekend.

bounty

He comes in with dewy shoes and arms full of firewood. The air shifts, the leaves fall, and the farm stands are full of browns and orange. It’s harvest time for squash and pumpkins, and for that I am very grateful. As summer lingered longer than expected, we picked greens from the garden and spicy flowers for our salads. Now as weather turns chilly I reminisce about the lightness of summer. I plan for the coming cold of winter; and I very much enjoy this time of harvest.

I stop for awhile, before carrying out the apple cider and honey that our family requires. I stop and breathe it in. The sights and smells are what I crave the most. The colors are rich and earthy, they warm me from the inside this time of year. Sometimes stopping for just a moment is all it takes to keep perspective on the bigger picture that often gets lost in the busyness that carries us through our everyday.

Before pulling out of the gravel driveway I look once more at my surroundings. I see my reflection in the rearview mirror: happy to be here, immersed in what I consider an idyllic childhood. Thankful for the family and the bounty that surrounds me.

Wishing you all a very happy Thanksgiving!

thoughts on being seen

polaroid by Meghan Davidson of Life Refocused

You know when you’ve had a good rich meal, it takes some time to digest it. I like to sit with the feeling of being full. It’s decadent to be so happily content. Sometimes I sit with that feeling a long while. It leaves people wondering, “why’s she so quiet?!” This was the case upon my returning from Camp Shutter Sisters. A month has passed. Photos have been shared, as have stories. and yet here I sit, still digesting. Not knowing what it was I wanted to share with others, what it was that I needed to keep sacred, and what was most important for me to focus on for my own growth.

This is my learning.
This is photography, no?

I spent the majority of my time at Camp speaking about self portraits. Here is where words cannot always express the conversations shared. I took no self portraits while I was at Camp. {I find humor in this} I’ve written before about being seen in real life and the value I place on the gathering of like minds, the importance of community, and the power that is stirred up in the Universe when we share intentions. All these thoughts were magnified during my Camp Shutter Sisters experience.

So, what is it that I brought home with me? It was more than loot and images and laughter and shells. It was the reminder that I am worthy.

We had just come back from a walk. A handful of Shutter Sisters, all of us with cameras. Meghan was holding that old familiar camera, the Polaroid SX-70, same as my fathers. I think we both saw the light at the same time, how could we not? It was streaming in through the windows begging to be seen. An exhale left her lips with a simple string of words, something along the lines of “I’d love to photograph someone in this light.”

{let me note that it was jokingly said one morning at breakfast “I just wasn’t expecting this… ya know, so many cameras!” And those of us who are camera shy all laughed at the absurdity of this statement. It was a photography retreat afterall. Were we expecting not to be photographed?}

This, being seen by someone else, allowing myself to be seen by someone is a place of growth for me. I can talk with my hands for hours about the importance of putting yourself infront of your lens through self portraiture, and yet when someone else holds the glass to my face I want to shy away. I took note of the light, of her generosity in asking so kindly, and I paid attention to the growing I need to do as a photographer.

These are the lessons that come from being on the other side of the lens.
These are thoughts on being seen.
I sat at the window and took a deep breath.

Why is this so hard for us? This allowing is mostly the unspoken plea, “I am no actress and so I’m freeing my insecurities to just be myself and let you document it.” You see, there is trust there. Trust that the photographer sees you as you see yourself. As you feel in your skin. Even without enough notice to actually comb your hair free of coastal fog. This feeling of who we are sometimes does or sometimes does not come across in photos. Photography is mostly optical illusion. But this being seen, dare I say, is real life.

There is something about being on the other side of the lens.
Being seen is as important as sharing your voice.
I am worthy
And so are you.

*****

Thank you Meghan, for seeing me and sharing this most beautiful moment on expired film. you can see more of Meghan on her blog: Life Refocused.

olympus pen project

i was recently part of the Olympus PEN Project. have you heard? 1000 cameras participated in this project to revolutionize the point and shoot world. this little camera packs quite a punch! Olympus gave me this super sweet tiny little camera to join in the fun, thank you Olympus! (i won’t go into technical details here, you can geek out at your own leisure on their site) but i will say that it’s totally rad. it’s got a super light body, it comes with a variety of lens options, it shoots in M, P, A, S modes, and it’s super fun with a collection of art effects (in camera!) to minimize post processing.

my camera is #795

i enjoy a new challenge, it keeps me on my toes (photographically speaking) and this Olympus was put in my hands upon landing in Monterey, CA last month. i hit the ground running and found myself gravitating towards this little camera more often than my trusty Nikon. oh the joys of a new learning curve!

over the past few weeks, i’ve tossed it in my bag as my go to camera. i’ve been really pleased with the results and i am enjoying working and tweaking my style and stretching the parameters of this new toy. if i were to categorize my cameras, i’d say my Nikon is hefty for work and creative art, this Olympus keeps me in the moment, my iphone provides everyday documentation, and my blackbird fly slows me down with a meditative quality that only a film camera can provide.

every thing, every camera serves a purpose. and i’m pleased to say that this Olympus has found a spot in my everyday use. thank you Olympus, for this generous offer!

you can see more images from my olympus collected here.

 

four seasons

The crisp air met us at the door. There is something very exciting about the first frost of the season. He breathes heavy to make airy puffs of smoke that circle his smiling face.  It’s a magical morning indeed as we walk hand in hand to meet the school bus.

I revel in the gift from Mother Nature this morning. As seasons turn over, so do moods and attitudes. Time spent together becomes cozy. We linger in the kitchen pouring over recipes that comfort one another.  This time of year our focus comes inward. We gather more and share stories. These are the gifts from the season I love best.

In the wee hours of morning I knelt in the frosty grass with wet jeans: red nosed, feeling like a kid again and very much alive. Thank you Mother Nature. Thank you New England.

*****

this bit of gratitude was cross-posted over on Paper Coterie this month

november gratitude

geese fly overhead. they do almost every morning. and if we are lucky, we catch sight of them from the domed roof of the yurt. the wind blows circular around our home. the sounds seep in and keep me connected more rhythmically to the outside world.

this month i’m giving myself a challenge. to jump back in. {that’s it.} and i give myself permission to use whatever means necessary to simply be in it. {what does that even mean?!} i’m participating in 30 days of gratitude for this month of november. and i’m giving myself permission to shoot exclusively with my iphone. and i’m giving myself permission to use as few or as many words as i want. (see? this is the box. and i’m allowing myself the freedom to be in it or not. to stand next to it, or or ontop of it, or even kick it to the curb if i want) this act for me is to simply be present.

right here, right now, in this life that i love.

i encourage you to join in with your own gratitude project. it’s so much more than just photography. it’s seeing the beauty in your everyday life and embracing the simplicity of all it provides us.

Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself,

like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.

“Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself,”
by Barbara Crooker, fromRadiance.

a gentle reminder

i need this reminder. and i figure if i need it, then there are some of you out there that need it too. there’s something about seeing the written word to go with his thoughts that really drive this message home to me. (to be kind to myself) to have patience with myself as i ebb and flow on this creative path. it’s hard work to navigate the way while you are forging the way.