Rachel's Senior Adventures

 The sleepy clouds rolled in slowly, like a stretch and a yawn and a shiver that runs down the spin as eyes open to a new day. The sun bid us a drowsy good morning as it peaked through the clouds every now and then while we drove down roads much tread by memory and times past, a ribbon of time that wound it's way to the mountains. Ah yes, the mountains; they welcomed us with hands rough with the cares of time, but gentle, like a firm handshake from a kind old gentleman.

Yes, to the mountains we went; a refuge they are, a place to go to get away from all that is rush and hurry and go, a place you can simple breath. And it was a joy to go to such a place to create pictures. It is not every day I get to take photos of viola playing maidens who walk bare foot, well, at least upon request, whose music spills over to join in a duet with waterfalls. We followed the sounds of the stream down to where colors of Autumn still braved the winds of Wyoming and held on to the trees. Ducking around branches that desperately wanted to poke and grab at us, we made it to corners of orange and red and took photos in the smooth light, and then scampered through hills and paths and tall grass, posing with books and letting hair fly with the wind.

I miss Wyoming, the plains that stretch and stretch away with nothing hindering their wide escape, the stars that aren't snuffed out by city lights, and yes even the wind. It is a place of memory, a story always seems to be on the breeze of times made true by hard work and perseverance; it runs so deep in that place.

I must say, Rachel was such a joy to work with; braving the woods and streams and tall grass and the many times I had her fling her hair or spin in circles. Her and her family are dear friends of mine, and when they asked me, somewhat in a spur of the moment, to take photos of her while I was in Wyoming ( and staying in their house and being the best man in their sons wedding and sleeping in a cabin... no big deal), I couldn't have been more happy. As I said, it is not everyday I get to do what I did, and I am glad I had a chance to work with amazing people in amazing places.

It was, so truly, the best way to end my visit to Wyoming.

Of Autumn

Hello October. You didn't expect to find me here, huh? Your hands are cold, dear. Come on. Lets go inside. The kettles on. Would you like some tea? You're wearing the sweater I gave you. What did I say? It set off your eyes in the still morning light? It still does.
What's that? What am I doing here? It is, well, this place is my home. You remember. The earth is falling asleep and it seems my soul has returned to me, after that long summer. Selfish summer. She doesn't let go easily. You know this. But now I'm back. And you're back.
Why didn't You say goodbye?
All I had were the memories. Of auburn hair caught just so in the still morning light, soft skin, your hand in mine. The scattered apologies. Mountains of words that slipped away over a year. Yeah, it's been a year. Doesn't feel that way, does it. Longer, like the months have stretched just to keep us apart. Selfish summer.
Why didn't you say goodbye?
I missed you.
Let's go back to how it was. Please? 

It can be said that I am somewhat of a hopeless romantic. Living a life that is not as it is, but rather what it could be. Fantasies lived only in between paper and ink, not of the here and now but of the elsewhere; they drift through the windows of my heart like an ostensible dream. Always writing letters to seasons in my waking hours, of love and life and what I wish a reality of mine could be; eventually the pen slips from my fingers while I melt into the night with the echos of lives I have never lived.

But ah, Autumn has come; yet fickle she remains. Yes hello, come in, I expected you sooner. What? Not staying? Wait no, come back! Won't you sit for a bit, we have much to talk about, much I wish to say. I wrote these letters, see? Won't you take them? I just wanted to let you know, a-about so much; here you can have them, please? Won't you come in?

And so it goes...

It is during this season that I feel the most at home, the most at ease with my inner dwelling. Maybe it is because I feel that I exist in a constant state of Autumn, like I am in the November of my life, or maybe it is because I feel the season in my very being all through these months, with all it's pumpkin spice lattes and rusted colors; but the very air just brings joy to my being.

Autumn is here. And she is smiling.

A confession; I have been somewhat stressed in these recent days. Deadlines looming, self imposed or not, projects that shove me completely out of my comfort zone; suns rising and falling seemingly without my notice. Odd hours at night jostled by a panicked mind needing to accomplish forgotten tasks that simply can't wait it seems, the darkness at my throat, pushing and pulling.

I am learning about the management of time during these days, failing more than I wish. It is a truth that one can ever fully get a grip on such a thing as time, and we have to pick ourselves up and move on sometimes when it slips from our fingers to spread down the road with its black hood up; oh, it's dark. When did the sun go down already? How did I miss this?

Where did the time go?

I had an afternoon set aside just to bake some cookies. Basic as this may be, it was something I desperately needed to do to get away from all that is crushing to my being. The ingredients were simply put just so in a jar and handed to me as a left over from an auction. I don't have the exact recipe, but laced on the little instruction card was the title pecan and butterscotch. They were above all else, an easy thing to make. Just stir in an egg and bake.

Oh hey, I rhymed.

I used this afternoon to reclaim some lost time, in a way. To tell my mind to chill out, everything isn't as bad as you think it so. Come on heart, let's let the wind touch us and maybe we could have a chat, just you and me...

A lesson I have learned during these days of late: we can not be happy all the time. On our own, hope is just around the bend in the road, just far enough away to see a vague direction, and we look back from where we came far too often. I have found that to just be, where you are and simply looking at the place you are in and not ahead or behind, is one of the hardest of things one can do. It takes a lot of prayer, times set aside to reflect, and sometimes we just need to turn up the music in the car and blast those vocal cords down a highway to clear the mind.

Another lesson learned: it is wise to check if the windows are closed before belting out the Disney music so as to not terrify the neighbors.

~ I Have This Hope by Tenth Avenue North.
As I walk this great unknown
Questions come and questions go
Was there purpose for the pain?
Did I cry these tears in vain?

I don't want to live in fear
I want to trust that You are near
Trust Your grace can be seen
In both triumph and tragedy

I have this hope
In the depth of my soul
In the flood or the fire
You're with me and You won't let go

But sometimes my faith feels thin
Like the night will never end
Will You catch every tear
Or will You just leave me here?

But I have this hope
In the depth of my soul
In the flood or the fire
You're with me and You won't let go

So, whatever happens I will not be afraid
Cause You are closer than this breath that I take
You calm the storm when I hear You call my name
I still believe that one day I'll see Your face

And I have this hope
In the depth of my soul
In the flood or the fire
You're with me
I have this hope
In the depth of my soul
In the flood or the fire
You're with me and You won't let go

In the flood or the fire
You're with me and You won't let go

I will end with this song that is my anthem during those times when I simply wish it could all end.  He is with us, always, even if I forget. His mercies are new every morning, the sun always rises, hope comes upon the wind.

Be still and know...

Things As They Are

It is something of a hard and fast fact that things just simply, and hilariously, don't always go like I wish them to. Even now I just typed thongs instead of things in the title. Sigh.

Always a flip side to this little life I live. Crooked cakes that just sit in all their awkward prestige, a patch quilt of frosting shrouding the poor creatures; slanted personalities I like to call them, just needs a little love. It's what's on the inside that matters anyway, right? Also known to accompany me on my venturous baking attempts are a many "Oops, that was supposed to be 2 teaspoons, not tablespoons." Or a, "Was I supposed to butter the pan before I put the dough in?" muttered through an array of flour dusted hands or oven mittens.

And, this being the case of most recent days, I have been plagued with photo shoot after photo shoot with nothing more accomplished than a hand full of mistakes that sit over my head, concepts left unfinished. Days that slip over me, just a sun rising and falling; I stare and stare at him, the sun, watching him march by, his light casting shadows upon a day filled with nothing accomplished...

Always a flip side.

I thought, rather circumspectly, to share that other realm of misfits and mistakes that make up so much of any photo adventure I pursue, that place of perfectly imperfect moments; a behind the scenes, if you will, of what surrounds a photo, of what builds a memory that is so treasured in my mind, of what is not seen but still lives in my heart.

My life, as it is, is certainly not perfect. I mean, just take a glance at the photos below. This, as these things go, is not a complaint against these, shall we say, bloopers. Whatever a perfect life on this earth could even be, it is not mine. And I rejoice in that. Life can't be all that we want it to be; it simply can't go exactly like we plan. And that's hard, I know. I am certainly not one to smile at everything that happens in my day. Just ask my family. I don't laugh at every little ill thing that occurs regularly. I don't always find joy in trivial mishaps such as early mornings. Some days it seems that I don't smile at all. But it takes a willing heart to love a life far from one thinks it should be. And, when this sad soul has those rain clouds looming and distracting once again, my greatest comfort comes in the promise that God's sovereignty is above our earthly wishes; and sometimes we just need to dance in the rain.

So, a few photos, to share some of my misfits, some tales of real life.

A before and after of a sort. More of an expectation and reality, I think. A reality is my constant state, really. I take time to have these little precious moments to breath, simply, solitary in the course of the day; to hush my mind. But, even when I sit in the pooling sun with my tea to take a photo, life simply happens.
Ah yes, steam you steamy steam you. Ouch, hot. Darn. Spill. Yes, hello reality. How are you? Take a seat, the kettles on. What was that? That noise? No. No, I hear nothing. Please, just put your feet up. I'll get back to you in a second.

I think, perhaps, an explanation is very much in need concerning this photo. Yes, I am in my bedroom, under a billowing bed sheet, yes, yes, that is indeed my face. I was, well, I was practicing. Trying to see if I could nail a pose and get the sheet to move like I wanted it in one shot, while maintaining the appropriate face. I still think I could do it. But now I have this. In all it's glory.

 As I read by the window, the light slips in every afternoon in just the simplest of ways. I like to sit and breath it is, as if I have never had anything else to sustain me for the entire day until that moment. Deep breaths; and my book. And the light. Ah, the light. I suppose I imagine that the hands of God guide it just so, like a ship upon a golden sea; it comes with hope and peace.
 This video is a testament to how my Instagram stories usually work out. Someone barging in while singing, and the wind not obeying my ideals of peace and happiness and AH WHY CAN'T YOU STAY PUT.

These gems are from a photo shoot I attempted the other day with my cat. Getting her to corporate was so hysterically difficult, but who could blame her really. I mean, I was hoisting her on my head and trying to get her to crawl on my neck, hoping beyond reason that she wouldn't jump away to leave me be the dweeb that I am alone in a picture. And so I now have these photos, sort of moments in between glorious timing and not. Those last two photos are when she jumped off right when the shutter clicked and then ran away to hide behind the chair. Poor Susan.

Yes, the beach can be a picturesque place where one might think it a pleasant enough place to read. *Cough* No. At least not this beach. Could be that I was right in the wind, unwilling to move, rooted in determination to stay and beat the wind at whatever the heck I thought it was playing.

So, a view at the unseen, a look at the hidden; and yet the door is wide open, as open as a new born sun across the sky, just waiting for us to step out and follow it to whatever possibilities it promises every new day. I think, as we tread each our own path, toward sun and moon and horizons of broad unknowns, that to find joy where you think none will be, is one of the most pleasant of surprises one can find, and perhaps, it is something we should look for in more places. 

Remember to dance in the rain.