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Photography: Little Whale Cove

I took these photos at a private cove near my dad’s house in Oregon last month. While I walked around with my camera, my daughter sat in the sand sifting it for agate. It wasn’t the trip I wanted. My dad was sick, ultimately needing to be transported by ambulance to the hospital. My daughter was about to turn 18, and things between us felt different. Everything felt…off.

As I edited these photos today, I felt all of it again. My dad is okay now, but he uses a walker, and the time for us to have the relationship I’ve always wanted is slipping away. My daughter and I are good. We’ve grown in new ways, but I worry about her all the time. I don’t know how to change things. I don’t know how to be right now.

Hard conversations are sitting inside me, and last night I dreamed they suffocated me, and I woke gasping for air. I couldn’t get back to sleep, anxiety eating at me with sharp teeth.

So, I’m going to take a minute and return to the peacefulness of this beautiful place. Will you join me? Let’s look at how light moves through things, reflecting and illuminating. Tell me, do any of these photos speak to you?

#1

#2

#3

#4

#5

#6

#7

#8

#9

#10

#11

#12

#13

#14

#15

#16

#17

#18

#19

#20
  • These photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.

44 thoughts on “Photography: Little Whale Cove”

  1. Lovely earthy images, Bridgette! It’s nice to see you again. May I urge you to have those conversations that are inside you? Both of my parents are now gone and the world seems somehow different.

    Say the words you need to say to your loved ones while you still have the time. I told my folks many things before they passed and we parted on good terms.

    Big hugs for you and your daughter, happy Birthday to her! 😊

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  7. #1 reminds me of an invitation to a journey, and I am a sucker for a LOTR/Hobbit reference, lol. I also love seeing pebbles and shells on a sandy beach, so #18 attracts me as well. Your daughter…she will change, as will you in the coming years. She’ll be discovering herself as an adult, and you will find yourself untethered from your role as mom. You’ll always be Mom to her, that part never goes away: but you’ll find more time alone with your own self, and that can be tough, after so many years where your main focus was your daughter. The hardest time for me as a middle aged adult was when I was adjusting to the empty nest, and my kids seemed oblivious to my existence. (That’s a good thing, becoming independent. But it hurts all the same.)

    This reminds me of several of the stories in your new book. I finally have time to sit and read, and I am enjoying your short stories. I think you have been processing these feelings for a while now: they show in your work.

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    • First, thank you again for buying my book and reading it. Wow! It still amazes me to think my book is out in the world. I almost forget sometimes as the “newness” and the orders have pretty much stopped, but thank you for seeing me through my work. That means more than I can say.

      Yes, you are very right, I’ve been processing this stuff for sometime. It seems each day brings a different feeling to the surface, and as words are failing me at the moment, photos seem to be the way I’m able to express myself.

      I’m sure this new chapter of my life will be interesting, and I hope I can learn to embrace these changes.

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  8. #s 2, 4, 8, 16, and 20. They are all eye-catching and serene at the same time. There is such peace and tranqulity in each, and it looks as though you captured every scene at just the right time. I’d love to know what #20 feels like!

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    • Thank you. It’s really a beautiful place filled with such a profound sense of calm. I wish it was out my backyard! The pinecone was quite spiky, despite looking almost like feathers in this picture.

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  9. All of these are so beautiful. I think number 7 is my favorite. Even with so many emotions vying for you attention, you manage to capture magic in the wild and it makes me smile every time. You are so brave and wonderful and I hope this arc of your story ends sooner rather than later. Love you always ❤️

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    • Awww, thank you. There’s something so profound about the fleeting beauty of wildflowers, especially those found in a forest. You know they get little shafts of light to grow in and yet…they reach through the undergrowth and provide a momentary brightness. I’m sure I could learn something from that. I’m hopeful too. Right now feels heavy, but something about remembering how the world is and always will be beautiful, helps. Love you always too!

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  10. I’m not sure what it is between mother and daughter relationships that get so muddy at certain times. If that ride gets bumpy again just hang on and know your understanding means everything. As for the parent situation, I don’t know why I pulled away right as my grandfather’s health began declining. He helped raise me but I think his mental decline shook me. I regret all of it. I miss him endlessly and there were things I wanted to say but didn’t because I didn’t think he could handle it but honestly? It would have been better if I had. Better for him because I would have been engaging, and better for me because we would have come to an understanding about some things. Even if all the pieces weren’t perfect. As for the images—all of them. I’m enjoying seeing your style and growth. It’s incredible to watch. I did photography for a long time, I don’t do it anymore but I’ve enjoyed watching you tackle it. Since we haven’t talked in a long time, I get to see it with fresh eyes.

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    • Thank you, always, for such a thoughtful comment. I’m still struggling to find a new balance with my daughter. I know, biologically, they push away at this time, so they can leave the nest, but it’s freaking hard. But, as any mother will tell you, all the stuff is hard. Beautiful, wonderful, and hard.

      I’m sorry about your grandfather and thank you for sharing that with me. I’m heading back in a few months to see my dad and I’m trying hard to garner my courage to say a few things to him while I can. The last time I tried hard conversations with him he cut me out for a few years…but he might not have that much time left now. The time is now to clear the air and say what needs to be said (my stomach hurts even tying that). I’ll try and bring your words of courage with me.

      Thanks also for your photography advice and kindness over the years. I just got back from camping and I realized just how important photography has become to me. I’m still very rudimentary in my understanding of technical stuff and editing, but the act of having my camera by my side does wonders for me. I think it will be something I’ll do for the rest of my life.

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      • I’m really glad you have your camera with you. Art is healing. You should take it with you when you go see your dad. It may lighten the load or give you a small escape for a little while. Whatever you need. You’ve had a lot going on lately, new book, daughter stuff, dad stuff, struggling with the “what-now” stuff. Some food for thought: What if you find something else to bring you joy as well? my life is full of doctor appointments and balancing medical stress. One thing I’ve learned to do is to make room for new things and for pockets of joy. For example, I have a horrible medical test I have to do in less than two-ish weeks, I don’t count down the days. I visualize what I have control over today, I pick something to make me feel as if I’ve accomplished something and then reward myself with a small treat. Comfort food, or bubble baths, a book, a movie or show I saved. Whatever it is. Often, I have things I love doing which I avoid so I can use them for such situations. Like chocolate, they’re sweeter that way.

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      • I hope your medical test went well and this is fabulous advice. Another thing that brings me joy is visiting my nephew (6) and goddaughter (almost 2). Seeing the world through the eyes of children always pulls me out of whatever funk I’m in.

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      • It didn’t go super great. I have more tests and they’re not fun 😮‍💨🫠 I’m particularly dreading one. But you’re an amazing mom, trust your instincts and remember you’re not perfect but neither is anyone else. At least you’re trying ❤️🔥

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      • I’m sorry your test didn’t go well. I hope you have more fun treats planned to get you through. Also, thank you for the kind words. You know us moms need all the encouragement we can get.

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  11. Magnificent photos, Bridgette. Mother/daughter relationships are notoriously hard. I would suggest you just follow your daughter’s lead. She will be trying to be an independent adult. Be supportive while you step back and let her grow. 💖💐

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  12. All of these are so beautiful. But I much Like is Frist one. The path through the woods. 🙂

    Both of my parents are now gone and the world seems somehow different. You’ll always be Mom to her, that part never goes away: but you’ll find more time alone with your own self, and that can be tough, after so many years where your main focus was your daughter. I have a one daughter.

    Big hugs for you and your daughter, happy Birthday to her! 🙋

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    • Photography is really the thing saving me right now. Just got back from camping for a few days, and having my camera…just the thing I needed. The worry of a parent feels so heavy sometimes and it really helps to just try and get a good shot of a bee or a butterfly, a challenge of smallness and patience. Glad it’s helping you too.

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  15. Well if Greg is way behind, what am I? A strong set of photos: I like so many: 3, 7, 9, 10, 12, 14, 15, 17, 19, 20! At first I thought you shot many of these into the sun, but …when pointed at the ground? Was that light spot in the upper right of most of the photos on purpose?

    There are some good suggestions here about your dad, and it’s been six weeks or so. I’ll just add, “simple is better.” A basic, “hey, you know, Dad, I…” Sometimes I feel a mundane exchange has an opening where those simple words could be inserted. We wordsmiths can make those connections better than some.

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    • You and Greg are always welcome here anytime! I’m so glad you like so many of these. Nice eye on the sun spot. While some of them were natural, others I added in to keep the set uniform, and to emphasis the presence of the sun in a time I felt great heaviness and dark. Not sure it really worked in all these, but it made sense at the time.

      I’m hoping to go back in the late fall to see my dad again and have some more conversations. He’s not much for texting or the phone. Simple is better and I need to remember to be brave when in person. I tend to fold…to want to keep those words inside because they feel too scary. I’ll keep your advice with me, kept it simple. Focus on creating an opening. Great advice. I appreciate you so much!

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  16. Yes, simple is better. I fought with my dad for ….25-30 years, and finally, as we engaged yet another “disputation” I just said, “Let’s not do this, Dad. I don’t want to fight.” Poof. We rarely disagreed so vehemently again. I don’t know if that will work for you. I made a simple statement from the heart, kind of a sighing, “oh please, let’s not..” kind of thing. It wasn’t easy, because my back always got up, but I realized something greater.

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    • I’m so gad you got to that place with you dad. That does give me hope. I don’t fight with my dad, it’s more a quiet disinterest in me and my children that hurts. He has no curiosity about us…no interest. He was a photographer for a long time, still dabbles some, and gave me my camera (one of his old ones). I really thought we’d bond over it, but he doesn’t even look at my photos and never gives me feedback. For me, I’ve been chasing “good job” and “atta girl” from him since I was a child, and I’m slowly accepting he won’t give me that. All I want is for him to be proud of me.

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  17. Lately my own life has harshly reminded me that our sorrow and unhappiness is rooted in our attachments. I guess you’ll just have to accept what he is, even if it doesn’t measure up. It’s sad though. If it means anything, I’m proud of you, and very impressed/envious!

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