When Spider-Man comes to your house, you unlock the deadbolt and brace yourself. He has to clear the entryway at a full sprint, and you don’t want to be collateral damage.
When Spider-Man comes to your house, you better have sourdough toast, pickles, and sparkling water on the counter. Apparently, saving the neighborhood requires a very specific diet.
When Spider-Man comes to your house, he will absolutely chase your rabbit around the backyard. He’ll get burrs stuck to his polyester muscles, sit in the hammock to pick them off, and roast your gardening skills.
When Spider-Man comes to your house, he might peel back his mask just far enough to breathe, expose his secret identity, and clobber you at dominoes until he literally rolls off his chair laughing.
When Spider-Man comes to your house, you will notice the exact moment his shins match the length of yours. You’ll look at his massive feet, look at the trail of stuffed animals leading into the hallway, and accept reality: A superhero is in your living room right now.
one time i stood under a flowering pear tree in my wild backyard and thought, this is good. it was warm and i’d just finished nursing my baby girl. she heavy-slept in a sling on my freckled chest. her hair was red and my feet were bare.
one time i stood on a street in london in my doc martens and thought, this is good. it was warm and i’d just toured buckingham palace pretending i belonged. steaming tea, a double-decker bus. my dress was red and my socks were yellow.
one time i stood all alone in my choked bedroom— the air was hot, the bed unmade— a shadow stretched over drifts of laundry left to fold. my face was red, the pen denting my thumb, and i thought, is this good?
5/100 For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
Spent the morning at a Fourth of July parade cheering on horses, marching bands and old cars. Here’s a few of my favorite shots for you. Hope you stayed safe today and all your pets got lots of extra cuddles.
freedom used to be yellow. simple like holding my grandmother’s hand in the church pews on sunday. simple like the ribbons we tied around the thick bark of the trees, waiting for the soldiers to come home.
maybe that is why i still like parades. the heavy hooves of the horses, the bright brass of marching bands, the gleam of old cars, bubbles floating in the summer air. i want it to be yellow again.
but knowledge changes all the colors. i cannot pretend anymore. it does not mean what it used to.
some people choose the blindness of yellow. some people see the truth.
4/100 For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
sweet girl, when those fast feet dance outside the library to music living inside your bones, and my screen glows awake to swallow the moment, do you know it’s the years i’m holding? you, right now— a bright flash of wild curly hair saved for later.
you call out “gigi dance” and I do, because my tired body wants to always remember what it feels to move with you. your small hand guiding my heavier bones.
we play, talk, and say hi to our oak tree, but it’s when we sing together and you press your head into my chest before climbing into your big girl bed, i feel the new weight of your lengthening limbs.
3/100 For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
cars zoom past to anywhere but here, each carrying someone’s entire world. bees swarm inside my chest, heavy and frantic, a hum vibrating beneath my ribs. only my finger moves, pressing each letter into my phone, like sitting years ago in the sand, pushing rocks down as far as they would go. maybe if i press hard enough now it will reach you. a little gift from my hand to yours. a single bee let loose across the distance. do you see the sun cutting through the leaves too? does the air taste like honey there? i need everything to be okay, for you, for us.
clouds streak white, smudges in pale blue. buzzing slows to a quiet ache.
i just need to hear you say— it’s all going to be okay. one more thread for us.
2/100 For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
lizards dart out of the bushes every time I open the front door rustling warnings when I don’t need them. wrote the word connection over and over within lined pages of my green goddess notebook, planning return of self, for self, to others or is it for others? today, tomorrow— each day is another chance for words to gather within my apron pockets if only fingers weren’t so tired. or slippery. forgiveness given when not asked for, makes arms ache for something lost. no, never was. illusions rustle whispering here we go again, eat until full this time. don’t worry about crumbs— you don’t have to clean everything everyone— you can rustle too whenever you want.
1/100 For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
“She did not succumb to the battering of the brutal elements in her life. No, instead, with nourishment and strength from those surrounding her, and from her own deep, strong roots, she continued to grow; not just grow but thrive! So much so that she did not buckle under the weight that was not her own.”—Claudia
For the month of June, my model was my lovely friend Claudia. We met during sunrise, to avoid the heat, and our time together was magical. We wandered the same wooded area I had taken photos in last month, but it looked different, more golden and less dark green. I focused my camera on capturing her lovely energy, smile, and how she connects to nature.
I met Claudia when our kids started first grade together. My first memory of her is volunteering together to paint the school office. She was working hard (something I learned is how she’s wired) and we got to talking. I instantly knew she’d be someone I wanted in my life. She’s caring and kind, but doesn’t allow boundaries to be crossed. She’s a loving mother who taught her kids to speak up for themselves and is the very epitome of unconditional love.
I’ve seen my friend go through some very rough times in the last few years and really focus on healing. She’s in such a good place right now and I saw it, radiating off her (see the photos at the end for photographic evidence, maybe?) I’m really loving these sessions with my friends and can’t wait to keep growing and sharing my photos with you all.
Enjoy!
#1#2#3
What makes you proud? Watching my kids advocate for themselves and set boundaries, and knowing that I provide well for them, not just physical needs but in all of the ways that matter makes me really proud.
#4#5#6
What makes you feel brave? Reminding myself of how much healing and growth I have done these past few years makes me feel brave.
#7#8#9
What gives you hope? Trusting the path that the universe has set for me, believing that it has good things for me, and reminding myself that it has always taken care of me (even though I endured a lot of pain and trauma), gives me hope.
#10#11#12
When we first starting taking photos together, I told my friend to just take a moment to look around the woods. Relax a minute and feel the energy. I snapped this shot. Although it’s most likely just a unique sun flare, my first thought when I opened the image was “did I capture her aura?” I had to share it with you all too.
And here’s some extras, just because I like them:
These were taken with my Olympus E-M1 MarkII, using several different lenses and edited with Lightroom Classic. Let me know what you think, and check out the others in this series if you missed them.
My daughter is a huge fan of The Last of Us video game. You may have seen my photos a few years ago of us in Seattle as she cosplayed Ellie at some of the famous locations.
What I haven’t shared is these photos we took in our backyard about two years ago of her and her dad. He’s not one to cosplay, but she talked him into it. It seems like Father’s Day is the perfect excuse to share these.
A few notes:
These are BB guns in our backyard
I’m sure you can see how much fun they are having recreating scenes from the game
My photography and editing skills have definitely improved, but I still love these
If you haven’t played the game, my daughter got us all to play it and it’s fabulous. A wonderful story full of representation and complex relationships. The show…not so much 🙂
Happy Father’s Day to my husband and my own dad (see the last photo for a cute one of us).
#1#2#3#4#5#6#7#8#9#10#11#12#13#14#15#16#17#18#19#20My daughter and husband at her first birthday party.Me an my dad in my Holly Hobby bedroom.
Bridgette Tales 