Photographs

My husband doesn’t understand why I can never delete any of my pictures.  He can take 5 photos, choose his favorite and easily delete the other 4.  I don’t have that gumph.  I like the off photos, the pictures that will never be posted on Instagram, that show people in the moments before or after they pose.  Some of my favorite photographs are those where the subject doesn’t seem to know they are being photographed, the photos that are slightly out of focus, blurred.

When I was little, my memories were made from the perspective of a little child.  I think about this as I go through the day with my boys; wonder what they see. I think about how much of the world they are taking in and what it looks like from their perspective.  I wonder what they will remember when they are older and I hope that their memories will be made richer from my photographs.

I treasure the few pictures I have from my childhood, especially the pictures with my mom.  Even the pictures that have long been lost to time and cross country moves but are kept in memory.  I remember her as I saw her from my childish stance.  I can see her hands, the pants she wore, the white moon shaped cuticle at the base of each nail.  I catch glimpses in my mind’s eye of the highlights in her hair that I noticed in the airport one time when she flew back to Arkansas.  I can see her stepping on a shovel as she works the dirt in her vegetable garden in our front yard on Elm Street, the curve in her back as she kneels next to the flower bed, pulling weeds.  I remember the feel of the tubes and dressings on her body, hidden by her tie-dye t-shirt, as I hugged her when she picked me up from day camp, and the stillness of her body, eyes closed, as she lay in the hospital bed the last time I saw her.  It’s harder to see her face, her eyes, to imagine her voice, her laugh, to remember many of the things she said to me, the conversations we must have had.

The few photos that I have of her inform me of who she was, how she felt, what she looked like.  My favorites are the photos that catch her in a laugh or a far off glance. They give me a fuller picture of a three-dimensional woman.  They are a clue as to the woman that I may have known had she been around when I was old enough to care about knowing her more fully.

So I keep the off photos, the blurry shots, the accidentals, the photographs taken when there isn’t really anything to see.  I cherish them, even though I don’t know what to do with all of them.  I imagine them in albums one day and until then simply look back from time to time and remember all the small moments that were shared among our growing family.

Here are some of my favorite, recent, off photos (most of which I think are better then the posed):

 

 

 

Our day in parts

Part 1: Science Experiment – Shaving Cream Rain Clouds

The original experiment, to drop colored water on top of shaving cream and watch it “rain” down into the water below, kept Casey interested for a surprisingly long time before we needed another clear vessel to just mix the colors in.20170329_102131

And a bowl to pour the water in.

20170329_103419

But of course in the end it all came down to being allowed to just play in the shaving cream!

 

Part 2: The Park

The walk over, pure attitude.

New Tricks!

 

Part 3: Home down time : Down home time

20170329_10441720170329_170047

 

Part 4: Disc-Golf

Late naps and decent weather = Get outside and wear them out!

20170329_19365820170329_19432720170329_19595920170329_191520

Saying Goodbye

I.
In the field by the barn
where we picked wild fowers
where the grass beyond grows
knee-high to waist
where you rolled down the hill
and let him jump on you
squeals of laughter dancing
through the trees
as I watched from the window
while I completed my
simple domestic tasks
like drying my hair
-how uncountry of me!
This is where we knelt
and wiped away the dirt
to reveal the promise
of a memory.

II.
The country road winds comfortably through the hills,
green and full of Spring,
past barns both new and old
some red and shiny-roofed
some slowly collapsing back to the earth
from whence they sprung
past fields yellow with mustard
that even now, three days later,
seem a bit burnt to my eye-
ripples of yellow once highlighted
in cool air and morning dew
are now flat and wane under the hot sun.
But perhaps that is the promise of memory too.

III.
It isn’t easy to say good bye
-or “hello”, or “how are you” for that matter.
Everything in life seems to bring its own trials
but standing on this land it is easy
to remember, to hope, to love, to be calm
even when the remembering and the ones we love
can be difficult–
it is easy to breathe in the peace
of the country air.
But it is always hard to say Goodbye


But it is always good to come back home!

Shake your crazies out

Today I needed my mat.  It was, as my yoga teacher so prophetically guided us in class, “time to shake out all of the crazies.”  I’ve been feeling my crazies lately. Born from disrupted sleep and unfinished dreams, bruised egos, undone laundry and pent up creative energies, they distract me like buzzing flies in my daily attempt to find the calm perfection that we all carry deep within.  I’ve become restless.  I have trouble sitting still.

It’s so easy every day to get distracted by our crazies, discourse about our problems, find momentum in our anxiety. It is much harder to talk about our happiness, to converse about the beauty of the everyday, or better yet, sit still and engage in enjoying the moment we are in.  I was grateful, today, to come to my mat and shake my crazies out, connect to my breath and step closer to the calm light that arose within.

“To me, happiness is expressed in the hands and in the face and in the light in the eyes. You know what I mean? I can’t express it verbally as well as I can my dissatisfaction or my anguish. I have more vocabulary for those things.”

~Joni Mitchell in an interview with Malka Marom, 1973

wpid-wp-1440555840068.jpeg       wpid-wp-1440555825038.jpeg

wpid-wp-1440555799075.jpeg

wpid-wp-1440555818148.jpeg

wpid-wp-1440555718873.jpeg

wpid-wp-1440555754512.jpeg

wpid-wp-1440555746431.jpeg wpid-wp-1440555705170.jpeg