today was a good day.

today was a good day - the wind wasn't blowing and i went outside and took some pictures with my 35mm 1.8 for the last time, because i ordered the 50mm 1.8 lens and i'm super excited but kind of nostalgic. i saw myself improve so much with the 35mm lens, and i took so many pictures with it. thousands. had my first paid photo-shoot with it, shot my first wedding. 

and today was quiet - i got to stay home alone for a while, and silence is something i always treasure. when my family is home, even when people are being quiet, there is just always a feeling of noise - almost as if i can hear their thoughts, and sense their emotions. i love sitting down to write when there is no one around, when the light is being filtered through the curtains at 3:00 in the afternoon, and falling across my fingers like ribbons of memory. when the dog walks up to me, and lays her head in my lap, and just looks at me - knowing that everyone else is gone. she doesn't ever like being alone. it's just the little things, funnily enough, that add up to something that i want to mark down - something i want to remember. the older i get (older i get. *coughs*) the more i realize that the things we remember aren't going to be the big planned trips, the magnificent outings, the bright lights of six million people in a city. it's going to be the whisper of wind in the trees, the spontaneous adventures, that time we went out and climbed a mountain, even though the wind was blowing 65 MPH, and i couldn't see because my hair was wrapped around my head. the moments of silence, the looks exchanged, the feelings that won't release your thoughts. 

little things. sometimes we think they're hardly worth mentioning. but sometimes, they are the things most worth remembering.


celebrating family

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“Your children are the greatest gift God will give to you, and their souls the heaviest responsibility He will place in your hands. Take time with them, teach them to have faith in God. Be a person in whom they can have faith. When you are old, nothing else you've done will have mattered as much.” ― Lisa Wingate
These folks are visiting from Oklahoma. (My brother, sister-in-law and nephew, Isaac.) Tomorrow we're all headed down to 'the valley' for a (very) late New Years party with almost the whole family. "It's a little late for celebrating New Years," I said yesterday. "We're celebrating family," mum said. "It's never too late for that." And, of course, she's right. And isn't this little guy the cutest? xx.


i thought of you

untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled every night i see the sun set,
every morning it rises warm
sometimes i think i see you
walking with your back to the storm

the wind blows memories away
the sun bakes the ground dry
i've given up on wanting you back
my eyes are empty of tears to cry

your ghost lives in the corners of the city
cracked and crumbling beneath my feet
i thought you were stronger than you were
because you melted when exposed to heat

i still remember your face,
i wonder if you've forgotten mine
you left everything behind so quickly,
cutting out fragmented pieces of time

i've blocked your memory from my mind,
i've erased your love from my heart
i wish i didn't remember you,
when all you've done is forgotten from the start

i wonder why i think of you
when the wind begins to blow,
when the grass begins to wither,
when the skies begin to snow

the past doesn't matter,
what matters is what we see
we all hide behind masks of desire
there's someone else we want to be

i see your face in my reflection,
like a shadow of the past
i wish i could forget your presence
love, unlike your memory, didn't last

your memory lives in the corners of the city,
in your words that still ring true
it doesn't really matter why, what matters is
i thought of you.


caught between winter and spring

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B E T W E E N   W I N T E R   A N D   S P R I N G

untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled There are moments, ridden with frost,
 there are fingers, warmed by the sun
and rough with dirt, caked under fingernails.
The sky fluctuates between brazen blue and
grey, the color of storm churned waves.
There is a time of stillness between the
transition - days where you can't feel
the air on your skin; times when the air
seems to take on the likeness of a cloud;
silent, weightless, intangible. 
Our lungs release warmth into the air
that shimmers between ice and sun,
the wind fans our cheeks rosy after
a winter of sunless skies and hollow sounds.
We're caught between winter and spring,
waiting for one to leave, so the other can
rush in the door. 



moments in march

untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled // Leaves are bursting through the brown ends of bushes, and trees are stretching their cold arms towards the sun, like someone embracing the sun rays after the darkest night of their life; we've all been inhaling the scent of flowers, and the earthy smell of mud. It's amazing how many memories those simple scents bring back.

// My computer died (again), but I find I actually have had more time to read since it died - and I've made up for lost time by reading 5 books in a week, including Divergent, The Hunger Games, and Of Mice and Men. I'd forgotten how much I love reading.

// School is... school. Brutus decided he was going to help me with my school. By laying in the middle of it. I am forever indebted to him for his brilliant support and advice.

// Bees are such happy creatures - I remember when I used to be terrified of them, but now I like standing underneath the tree with my head among the blossoms of the lower branches and hearing the bees zooming around like miniature fighter planes, and feeling the brush of their tiny wings against my skin when they fly by.

// Trying new things: I tried free-lensing the other day. Apparently it doesn't work so well with Nikon models, but I managed to capture a few shots that I liked. Also, double exposure. So. much. fun. 

// There are toys scattered all across the house - I think I stepped on two legos yesterday, but it's just another (happy) way of remembering that the kiddos are here for a visit. Clutter used to bother me, but now it's just a slight annoyance that reminds me of happy little faces. About those legos, though...

And lastly, dang, 2014, slow down already. 


forgotten frames of february

untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled untitled February is often a month colored grey; the skies, the water, the faces of those I pass. The wind doesn't hold any words; only sounds, only memories. Grey streets disappear, tangled in power lines and exhaling fog, like smoke from between the lips of an old man. The only colors are the people; souls all different colors - some vibrant, some dull. Some colder than ice slipping between pale fingers, some like a gentle spring rain. All have one thing in common - we wait for Spring. Faces pressed up against the window panes, stained and dripping with breath from lungs laden with ice and the remnants of Winter, we comb the skies with searching eyes, hoping to see a glimpse of blue in the smoke that covers the brazen ocean above our heads. Silence wraps its fingers around us, holding our words tenderly - like a mother holding her child - refusing to release them into the receptive air, afraid to see the frozen perfection thawed. The pale light works its' way across the worn carpet - across faces, across veined hands, across faded pillows - and disappears into the cracks in the tile. The light seems to be melancholy, tired, weak, as it too waits for Spring. 

pictures from February.