120/365

it will come

that is what i tell myself

as i open my eyes to first light

as i heat a cup of morning tea

as i chase children downstairs

and lunchboxes into backpacks

i feel it following behind me

trying to make its way in

this thing that is coming

it will come

i know as i listen to the sounds of

religion and faith in my ears

and watch birds fly across the sky

on my morning commute

it watches me from hidden hedges

and rounded turns

or in the spoken word of poet or preacher

this thing that is coming

it will come 

this is what i believe

as i march each day into

the office of 8:00 am- 4:00 pm

peacefully biding my time with

monetary affairs 

the hints and reminders coming

from a stolen peek of inspiration

people kind, but blissfully unaware

of this thing that is coming.

it will come

i find it in quiet stolen moments

in the dim lit light of the monitor

after the children set to bed

it coaxes me to stay with it 

until the midnight hour passes

stay with me

be with me

believe in me

i have gotten you this far and

i am coming

this thing that is coming

i can feel its breath on my back

the caress of its promise 
it appears in the form of 
the words and the photographs
of those who have let it in
it makes its way to me through
unknown channels, reminding me

if i keep it close

keep believing

keep reaching

keep moving step by step

and never really let it go

it will come.

119/365

current date and time: 4.29.2012  9:45 pm
in my mug: Jacob's Creek Merlot
in my belly:  a bit of mexican dark chocolate
in my ears: "King of Pain"  The Police, an old but good one, picked at random tonight
out the window: cloud covered moon and crisp night air
on the editor:  this may be the only photo i took this weekend.
last watched:  The Pirates of The Carribean with the girls last night, for the first time.
by my bedside: my laptop, have been moving posts from the old blog here, a month at a time, only two more years to go, September 2008-2010
feeling good about:  a bit of spring cleaning done today, windows washed, surfaces wiped down, clutter removed, it certainly felt good to shake out the staleness
bummed about:  not quite getting everything done and a bit of an aching back
new thing i love:  these two videos i caught last week, each very inspiring outlooks on difficult situations, here and here.

118/365

i cannot imagine celebrating 86 years, but that is what my grandfather did today. this poster my grandmother made for him for his 80th birthday celebration hangs in his office.  tonight i passed him taking the trash out to burn as i was walking up the path and said, "hey, birthday boy".  he gets up every morning and feeds six stray cats that have taken up residence here.  they adore him, i see them waiting for him on the porch in the morning and they run after him across the driveway.  he never gave up trying to catch them and had them all fixed and given their shots so they could stay.  after that he comes down and takes my dog for a morning walk.    most days you will find him out on the mower or on the tractor in the back lot.  when he has something to do he starts it now and doesn't stop until it is done.  i wish i had that kind of initiative.  he's a rigid republican. he almost always wears brown.  he has a nice collection of hats and wears them often.  he's survived heart conditions and cancer.  he was a military man and an electrician.  he's been married to my grandmother for over sixty years, they married against her parents wishes.  that is them halfway down the left side of the photo.  amazing gorgeous couple.  all they have seen, all they have done.  they raised five children with less than i am raising two with now. i don't feel some days i should ever complain.  when you meet someone and mention them, the person always has kind words about them, a stranger said to me, "you don't get any better than Pup and Ann".  there are eight grandchildren and ten great-children.  two of these great-grandchildren can be found traipsing around after him in the yard, or sitting next to him on the porch swing, or on his lap in his favorite chair.  this granddaughter is amazed to see  all these photos of him.  i always remember him as the man behind the camera.  i spent a lot of time with them growing up.  he followed me around with that camera and  there were so many photos, photos he developed in the utility room that doubled as a dark room. it was a place of mystery to me then, but now i understand.  my grandmother is the great storyteller of photos, she has made collections of them for all of us.  i can't help but really loving this one though.  it shows me what life is about and it reminds me of why i keep picking up my camera.  documenting. life.  so at 86 years there will be this lifetime of memories.    i love these two people with a feeling there are absolutely not enough words for. they fill my days with happiness.  they teach me every day what life is really about.

117/365

{this moment}

one of the greatest gifts we can give is to love ourselves exactly as we are

116/365

the sleeping arrangements have changed again

consistency is not something we always have here

the girls have been sleeping in my bed together

i have been camping out in k's room

as i've had to wash my sheets and blankets regularly

because of the rash

but you know i like it

i like her little lamp light

and i love her little bed

i love the way the soft light spills over it

and the owls and squirrels look down on me from the wall

perhaps now i know

what has been wrong with mine

that bed i have many a night

found myself restless in

it is too big, king size, for one

it was perfect when it was husband, wife, cat and sometimes dog

then one baby, then a toddler and another wee one

em moved to the toddler bed under the window in our room

when k was born, often sneaked back in between us

there has been every configuration since we moved here

one, two or three of us

give or take that cat that likes to come lie in your hair

after she knows you are asleep

i feel held close in k's little twin bed

and suddenly i am reminded again

how less is more

and comfort means so much

when you can find it

and how really i need to decide

how we are going to resolve this sleeping situation

once and for all

so torn between the company of softness

and my own personal space

and all that entails

115/365

{for 52 photos:week 1, thank you bella, for helping me get my projects in order}

{beginnings}

1/52 photos

i've been saying it for over a year now.  i will do something with all these photos, all these bits of writing.

see those notebooks stacked up.  there are ideas in there, dreams, plans, outlines, lists, aspirations, and many, many projects to be done.

all thought up, all planned out and none of them actually started, let alone made it to completion.

there is a series of photo postcards in there, several actually

there are multitudes of inspirational print ideas in there, lonely

there are at least three book ideas of photos and essays, started right here on this blog and some tucked away in the files waiting to be finished and compiled, even knowing how i want the the finished format to look

there is an idea for true soul binding portrait work in there, hiding behind fear of inexperience

there is a center for young girls in there, to come and meet and support each other and grow with art and photography and writing and self-exploration, there is even a mission statement and a building layout.

there are pages and pages of advice, and musings and memories for a book for my children from their first decade.

there is a novel started: over 16,000 words. 

and now there is a book of love stories, just scraps started really, about beginnings and endings, lurking in the back corners

that's a lot of beginnings.  i'm good at beginnings, not so good with the follow through. i also have monkey mind, fluttering from here to there.  and i have a lot of fear, doubt, and time constraints, 
but mostly fear.

one project at a time.

one step at a time.

pick one project, see it through

then pick up the next one

let one lead into the other

learn along the way

you don't have to do it all at once

and you don't even have to do all of it well

trust the process

believe in yourself

just do it

photos and words

every day

i will do a bit of both each week

even if it's just twenty minutes

one project at a time

i'm putting my projects on a five year plan.
one step at a time

114/365

i love days when it's just her and i

oh anna-banana fluffy boots

it's been almost fifteen years

you lasted longer than the husband

and were there before my girls

you are my constant companion


{ i want to be able to reply to individual comments, but most times don't get a return email address,
 so as of yesterday, i've begun replying in the comments section}

113/365

the poison ivy post

mother nature and i are friends.  goodness i don't think there is anything i love more than being out and about in the midst of the great outdoors without cars, or buildings or even people.

flowers, trees, water, moss, wind, birdsong

that is my recipe for calm, contentment peace, fulfillment.

and it's mostly what comes through on my camera.

but two weekends ago the natural world bit back.

for forty years poison ivy has let me be.  i have frolicked through it as a child and just three years ago cleaned out a section without a reaction.  now i cleaned out the back half of the tree fort and two days later, wham.  

a side note:  i even wore gloves and long sleeves.

it's been getting steadily worse as the days go by, despite all my best natural remedies.   a week later i am in the urgent care center after a fit of tears determined my whole arm is going to fall off when the physician says in one minute, you have poison ivy, it's not infected, and it will take another couple of weeks. i tried not to cry in front of him as i did my grandmother.  as much as i can plow through tough situations sometimes i just cave to it.

but he did give me steroids to take and something for the itch and while medicine is the last thing i think to take (sometimes hours have passed with a headache before i think, perhaps i should try an ibuprofen) i am hoping this will do the trick.

the girls have been lovely helping out since i am limited in what i can do (it's on both forearms) with meals and for sure with dishes and with armless hugs each night.  i've found you can give very strong head hugs. this all fell on emily's eleventh birthday and i am thankful, she had already opted out of a sleepover with friends and just had immediate family over for cake and ice cream.  my sister brought me lilacs and poison ivy tips (hairdryer, hot blown over it, amazingly good as scratching and helps dry it up), my mom started tea and did dishes, the girl got oodles of books, and design books and paint canvases and scrapbooks and everyone gave emily (and i) a warm and comforting birthday celebration.

i don't think there is a master plan, but i do think there are lessons  that come with life.

ask for  help when you need it

trust your instincts

cry when it gets too much

stop to take care of yourself

all you need is family, some cake and some hot mugs of tea and all will be well, even birthdays

and mother nature is still beautiful, regardless of her nasty side.

112/365

Just Now...

current date and time: 4.22.12 10:12 p.m, post quiet 11-year old birthday

in my mug:  King Cole tea, with honey, my mother kept the kettle going to keep everyone's cups filled tonight

in my belly:  store bought birthday cake. i always make the girls birthday cakes from scratch, this is my go to recipe, but due to the poison ivy outbreak that landed me in the urgent care this morning, i just couldn't. so we bought a cake at the grocery and she decorated it with her star wars figurines, and all were happy and the world did not end

in my ears: "look after you" The Fray

out the window:  rain, rain and more rain and an unexpected late April cold front

on the editor: some photos i shot around the yard last week, but not much happening with them, hits slump

last watched: "the third wave" a documentary of four volunteers who picked up and went to Sri Lanka after the 2004 tsunami.  it was amazing to watch.  i let the girls watch it with me since it was dreary and rainy outside and despite a bit of misgivings over seeing a few dead bodies (i warned them) and some of Donny's potty language  I think they appreciated it.  K said to me out of nowhere today after we had watched it.  i liked what alison said about there are good people and there are bad people, but i'm just here to help human beings.  i was a bit unsure if K should watch it, she being as tender-hearted as myself, but in the end the spirit of the film won out.  i love that my girls "get it".

feeling good about:  the way family comes in and enfolds you and holds you close.

feeling bummed about:   the poison ivy, but that's another post.

by my bedside:  still finishing "some assembly required" and there's an old Shambala Sun i picked up at the library magazine exchange i'm trying to get to.

new thing i love:  ian ruhter silver and light.   beautiful. artful. passionate. i've watched it twenty times.

111/365

I used to wonder for a long time why people I didn't know came to visit my blog?  I'm not a food blogger with amazingly enticing recipes like my friend Lisa, it's not a design blog, or a mommy blog, or a religious blog, or a tutorial or e-course driven blog.   It's just me....and my rambling thoughts & photos of my life around me...and the flow changes.  I'll be very poetic for a bit and then all of a sudden it's all about the girls and daily life and every once and awhile a religious or political rant comes into play.  Sometimes I think I need to be more consistent and stick with a theme, but then I remind myself I didn't start this blog for an audience.  I started it as a journal and a cheap substitute for therapy.  Somewhere along the way, inspiration came and my creative muse decided to come out and play.  Sometimes when I sit down to either post here or to write a bit I might have an idea, but sometimes I just sit down and see what comes.  The amazing thing is something always comes.  Some posts are better than others, especially with a 365 plus bonus, but sometimes I just sit down and let go and the words stream out without my thinking about it and a lot of times after editing it around a few times I can't believe I've put these beautiful words together.    

Someone at work said to me one day, but how do you come up with something to say every day? I have to admit my first thought was how do I not?  Isn't everyone else like me with 51,000 thoughts running through their head at a time?  I told another fellow blogger this past week that I wished I could create a direct link from my mind to the machine to catch all those thoughts that come up while I am in the shower or cooking dinner or walking the dog.  Carrying a notebook does help but many a morning I have walked back in from the woods with the dog reciting phrases from something that inspired me over and over and over again so as not to lose them.  Out among the trees remains as always one of my favorite places for mindful thinking and inspiration.

But over the past year as this blog has found it's footing, a few of you have taken the time to e-mail me a note of appreciation, a bit of friendly advice or a simple hello.  A lot of you who have been around forever are still commenting regularly even during weeks when my own commenting drops off.  This makes my heart grow in amazing proportions.  This validates to me the very best of what I enjoy in my blog visits.  You don't have to have a specific vehicle for your blog, you just have to be you, let the best (and even worst) of your own spirit shine.  It's funny how blog circles run.  I started following sewing and crafty blogs, some humorous blogs, some natural living blogs, some inspirational blogs, a lot of home/unschooling blogs (which i am unable to do but  admire and am in awe of your spirit).  Blogs that I read have come and gone.  Fellow writers and photographers come into your pool, some stay and some go.  Still, it is amazing to me the friendships I have made here and are still finding.  Those of you that are keeping it real with your own struggles and beauty.  Sometimes it's the needed bright spot or pick-me-up or acknowledgement of my own feelings found from someone else that makes me feel....well, not so alone.

I appreciate that so much.

{that is my old lilac bush by the way.  i am so pleased to have inherited my great-grandparents and grandparents planted beauty.  when i first moved here almost four years ago it was full but had no blooms the last two years.   after some delicate pruning it has provided about four hopeful blooms.   there is some more dead to fish out and i have thoughts of a hard pruning this fall.  if anyone has any advice, i would gladly take it as they are one of my favorite flowers and scents in this world.  in the meantime my sister brought me a huge vase full of both purples and whites which i hope to grab a few shots of in the light...my whole downstairs smells heavenly}

110/365

{this moment}

houdini-esse

109/365

My relationship with this girl is changing.  On Monday she will turn eleven years old. She is in this stage of pushing away, but still holds on so very tight to me at night when I tuck her into bed.  She spends time in her room reading American girl magazines and making popsicle stick models cut from fashion magazines, but then climbs onto my lap later and burrows herself in under my wing like she's always done, the little chick to my mama hen.

Today I was reading "Some Assembly Required" and these lines Sam says about his son hit me like bricks today:

"......I thought I could help Jax grow as strong as possible as a person, but he's in charge of how he decides to grow, or not. All he needs to grow are opportunities to figure things out...that your parents are just guardians and protectors...he is life, he's life learning to seize itself"

I thought this a pretty profound statement from a nineteen year old father of five months, credit to you there Annie Lamott, and the words, difficult as they are to swallow, are true.  I am learning this more and more as my girls grow older.  This is the hard part, learning to let go.  It was difficult the first day I left her at school.  It was difficult the first night she spent away from home.  It was difficult when she no longer held my hand as we crossed the street or walked in the grocery.

The truth is I am going to have to learn to be okay with letting her spread her wings.  I am also going to have to get used to her having her own ideas and opinions.  I can't just sigh and say "oh remember the days when she was small and Mama could do no wrong."  Right now she has thoughts and opinion and ideas (an awful, awful lot of them) and she is challenging the things I say and do.  She is doing this because she is learning.  She is doing this because she is testing the waters.  She is doing this because she is exploring what it means to be her own person.  My job it seems is to get out of the way.  To be here when she needs me, to be her source of experience, to be her sounding board and to be the one with the soft place to land when she's frustrated or confused or just growing too fast.  Someone farther along this journey once told me, "she lashes out at you because she knows she is safe with you".  Perhaps that is what I need to remember when I am counting to ten in my head and walking out to the log pile out back where I put myself in time out.  It seems that I may have to get much, much better at walking away as she rails against me, to know it is not personal.

The hardest, hardest part for me though is going to be letting her make her own mistakes.  To not always give her the answer, to let her make her own choices and see the outcomes.  To acknowledge that she is not going to want my answers, or that in horror, that she thinks my reasons, my answers are wrong.

These last ten years I have been laying the foundation and there are lessons there that she has soaked into her skin, into her being.  I take comfort in knowing that there are essential pieces I have given her: how to be kind, how to think for herself, how to embrace her uniqueness.

I give her my experience and hope she doesn't make the same mistakes I did.  I pray that the mistakes she does make are repairable and don't cut too deep.  I offer her my words, my heart and my time when she wants it.  When she lashes out at me, I have to remember she does it because I am the one who is here and the one she knows will still be here later when she regrets the words she used.  I have to know that if she wanders away she will eventually make her way back.  At least I hope so.  

As much as my heart aches to keep holding her close and safe, I know I have to let her seize the life she is meant to have.  It is her journey, not mine.  I was assigned this task only of being the guardian on this journey while she is here with me.  I know this because I have been both a daughter and a mother.

And that is what I want for her.  To live this life and grab all it has to offer.

108/365

the golden hour

what can i say

photographers know when this is

but i bet even if you are not a photographer

you know about the golden hour

the hour after dawn and the hour before dusk

where the light is beautifully natural

but also where beginnings and endings meet

we have been spending our golden evening hour 

riding bikes or walking now that it's warm

it being so hard to not be outside

*****

for the 52 Photos Project

 i am looking forward to doing a new full "52" starting April 22nd

if you would care to join

107/365

{what do i see in this photo:  one of my photos with my first point and shoot camera.  our little house for the three of us. not working while we transitioned from our life as four.  living off the money from the house we barely sold out of foreclosure.  unpainted walls.  her kindergarten work hanging on the wall behind her.  more plants i was killing in the background.  we were making a dough.  the apron i made her.  the little brown corduroy dress i loved so much. she looks so small, with so much hair. }

5,000 photos

on my computer

countless clicks of the shutter

so many moments captured

almost four years ago

picked up a camera

started writing

still moving the old blog

here to this home

still sifting those 5,000 photos

some are going

some are staying

all were well worth lifting the frame

looking back on words

who i was

who i am

who we are becoming 

documenting this life

this is what i do