When I’m in the middle of Spring session season, I am a seeker of shade. For me, shooting in full sun is hard. I dread the very idea.
All week I’ve been wrestling with several sessions where I was forced into harsh lighting for one reason or another. Blown highlights and funky shadows are haunting my dreams (especially since–ahem–the struggle was largely my own fault).
This afternoon though, in the middle of my editing marathon, I was given a gift. A moment in the sun where the blown highlights and funky shadows just…worked.
Will I throw all my editing craziness out the window? Probably not. But for for a little while in my back yard, I was reminded how truly beautiful the imperfections of life can be.
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I wish I had something brilliant to tell you, but I don’t. To be perfectly honest, I don’t even have something sort of brilliant to tell you.
For the last week I’ve been editing, shooting, coughing, refereeing, editing, coughing, coughing, coughing…and then all that mom stuff.
My brain may have fallen out sometime around Tuesday, but how would I know?
So what does this picture have to do with anything I just said? Nothing. It’s just cute and soapy.
Happy weekending, ya’ll!!
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Yesterday, since I was early for a senior session (it’s okay to be shocked. I usually am when I’m even on time to things, let alone early. Although I AM a little more on top of things when it comes to photo sessions), I spent a few minutes walking around.
The location was nothing new to me. I’ve been there in all kinds of weather, in every season. Over the last few years I’ve been there dozens of times and shot thousands of pictures. I thought I had seen everything that it had to offer.
Until yesterday.
It was a little tree. A little tree with purple blossoms and tiny red heart shaped leaves. Nothing earth shattering really. Just a tree. But it was beautiful. And despite my being right there, in that location dozens of times to take countless pictures, I had never once noticed it.
Today I am thankful for simple beauties and for moments where I slow down enough to notice them.
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“Didja find yours?” she asked breathlessly, as she galloped down the hiking trail at a pace that made my Mommy senses tingle.
“You gotta find your inkstrument so we can play together!”
And that’s when it happened. When our moss gathering, tree hugging, leisurely Sunday afternoon hike up the canyon turned into a parade.
Oh, I resisted at first. We all did.
But there’s something about a stick playing four year old tromping around the mountains in sparkly purple plastic sandals and bedhead that’s difficult to resist.
So I found mine–my little piece of musical imagination.
And I am all the better for it.
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It’s been a random kind of week around here.
Some days, random is really all I can manage. Good thing I don’t mind it.
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She squeals when she hears the car come into the driveway because she knows he’s home.
She flutters her eye lashes and he is pudding in her hands. They lay on the trampoline and talk about their day. And sometimes about birdies and dresses.
She puts her tiny fists on her hips in four year old indignation when he calls her Shortie. Lately she’s taken to calling him Papa. It makes him grin.
I’m not going to lie, it’s hard having him out of work four months out of the year, and I am wildly relieved when this season rolls around and he’s back out there.
But I can’t deny how lucky my kids are to have him around so much. I guess that makes us all the lucky ones.
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She practiced it at least 2,337 times. Sometimes she sang it fast. Sometimes she sang it ssslllloooowwwww.
We all know it word for word. Backwards and forwards.
It’s been stuck in my head for days. It’s played on a loop in my dreams several nights in a row.
But when she sang it in the school talent show, it was all worth it.
And all cheesiness aside, her True Colors DID shine through.
P.S. In case you were wondering, we did record her performance, but she sang in a group and I don’t have permission from the other parents to post it. But it was one of those grinny mom moments I love.
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A little riddle…
What happens in Chaos House when you take advantage of Mom’s back being turned for a few minutes and manage to combine sand, wheat thins and food coloring for the week’s most terrific mess?
Do you face being grounded? Probably not.
Do you face a marginally stern talking to? Perhaps.
So. What are you SURE face in Chaos House when you made a trail of Wheat Thins from the living room to the kitchen to catch a fairy and have blue and yellow hands and a food coloring beard?
Say it with me folks…
You face…
Mom’s camera.
Clearly I am a terrifying disciplinarian.
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She begged and begged.
She got the little one in on it. The begging.
He wasn’t as enthusiastic. Kept wondering out loud what we’d really do since the wind is cold and the water is colder.
We all gave in. We wore jackets and sandals and packed a dinner of sandwiches and smiling oranges. We called Grandma and talked her into coming too.
And when we got there, it was like we stepped into our own little world. It felt soft and mysterious and ancient.
The wind was cold. The water was colder. But it didn’t matter.
She was right.
Even he would agree.
It was a few hours of magic. Of moment catching. Of bliss.
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I swore I’d never do them.
At least not regularly. And certainly not often.
They scared me, to be perfectly honest.
And for a long time, I wasn’t very good at them.
Okay, kind of not at all. Good at them, I mean.
But here I am.
Editing yet another yummy little peanut from the past month or so…
And pretty much loving every minute of it.
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