This will be the eighth time I’m sharing photos with you of Dillon Beach, a place I’m lucky enough to visit several times a year. It’s crazy how each visit is a little different. This visit we saw thousands of tiny crabs, met a lot of really sweet dogs, and shared the early mornings with fishermen and surfers.
These photos are for Heidi, as she showed me again how magical this place really is, and for Sephera, for always being my exploring buddy on the beach.
Hope you all enjoy these and let me know if you have a favorite.
One of the highlights of our recent trip was spending a night in the longest continuously operating hotel in Washington State, The Shelburne Hotel. After a few difficult days and missed connections, this place waited for us like a refuge.
It was our third time visiting and my first time staying in the most haunted room. You can read about our earlier experiences here:
An overturned truck on the freeway delayed our arrival, and we checked in 20 minutes before the small bar closed. I had been hoping to write in the bar drinking a cocktail called the Bee’s Knees, but instead only scribbled a few poetry lines on a napkin while drinking the renamed cocktail, The Bee Sting. How perfectly fitting for this trip.
The house has two attic bedrooms, both said to be haunted by a spirit named Nina. After our encounter in Room 6, we had been looking forward to what might happen in Room 5. However, after all the stuff the trip had thrown at us, we both felt pretty emotionally drained and just wanted to sleep before making the 10 hour drive home the next day.
The little nook my daughter was going to sleep in had a door in it (photo below) looking way too much like a Coraline door, so we ended up sleeping together in the main bed and blocking that door with the extra pillows.
The room, like most the house, has an old feeling and is filled with quirky things. I put white noise on my phone and collapsed almost immediately, too tired to really take it all in. Around 2 a.m. I woke because my white noise stopped. I looked around the room and saw nothing, but I heard what could only be described as a low moan. It wasn’t coming from my daughter, and I tried to tell my brain it was something outside…maybe a truck? It got louder.
“I can’t do it tonight,” I said out loud to the room. “I’m too sad and tired.”
The sound instantly stopped and the white noise turned back on. I went right back to sleep. It was probably a dream, but I like to think Nina was taking pity on me. The next morning I took a bath in the clawfoot bathtub and took a few photos outside in the beautiful garden.
This is the last photos from our trip, but I have some beach and camping photos coming your way in the next few days. Let me know if you have a favorite photo among these and have a fantastic weekend.
Part of my trip earlier this summer involved taking the Seattle Ferry. I panicked when we got up to the gate, unaware there’s more than one destination, and ended up taking to extra two rides. Oops! Good thing I found it peaceful and fun.
Here are some pictures from those rides. Let me know if you have a favorite.
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These photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.
Part of our summer trip included searching for Thomas Dambo’s giant wooden trolls. Let me tell you, these incredible sculptures do not disappoint. Not only are they breathtakingly beautiful, but they are enormous!
Thomas Dambo has crafted over 170 creations all over the world. If your curious if one is near you, here’s a wonderful Trollmap. We only visited two trolls this trip, but we will try again soon.
Now, come with me into the forest to meet Bruun Idun and Pia the Peacekeeper.
“In the night, there was a storm, there at the beach where she was born And Idun felt a feeling wrong, and so she walked there in the dawn And in a flute, the magic horn, a tune so passionate and strong She played for them an orca song to ask them where they all had gone“
Brunn Idun stands on the shoreline playing her flute to the Orca’s to ask them why they have all left the Pugeut Sound. Her flute was made by artist, John Halliday Aka Coyote from the Muckleshoot Tribe. On August 25th, the Mayor of Seattle, Bruce A. Harrel, declared it “Brunn Idun Day”. This special recognition celebrates Bruun Idun’s and the Trolls’ contributions to our collective stewardship environmental management, water protection, repairing habitat restoration, preservation and conservation. Every August 25th is Bruun Idun Day.
“Pretty pretty please, let’s keep the peace beneath the trees Hold you in my hand I will remind you with a squeeze Quiet little people cause your criers make me tired Pia likes to play with people, people they keep quiet“
Pia likes to play with the people beneath the trees, and she likes it when it’s not too noisy.
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These photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.
I’ve got a lot more photos from my June road trip to share with you, including these from my time spent at Little Whale Cove. I recently realized, or perhaps remembered again, how seeing the world through the camera lens is a bit like a time machine. It allows me to slow time enough to capture a single moment. It’s magic.
I hope you enjoy these photos. As always, let me know if you have a favorite.
#1#2#3#4#5#6#7#8#9#10My daughter sifting through the sandMy spotMe
These photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.
Yesterday, taking advantage of the surprisingly cool weather for this time of year, Superman and I went to the Sacramento Zoo. We saw axolotls, a possum who’d gotten into the red panda enclosure, giraffes, baby flamingos, playful meerkats, a snake undergoing a procedure, and a giant rhinoceros.
It was exactly what I needed. Seeing the world through the eyes of a 6-year-old and my camera lens did wonders for me. Please enjoy these photos and let me know if you have a favorite.
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?
This week I was reminded again at how complicated emotions can be, at how we can hold both tremendous grief and overwhelming love in the same breath. It was a week of tragedy, connection, rock camp, fairy doors, bubbles, car talks, and two panic attacks.
Would I argue with the rain or clouds or the ocean itself? I see faces, I see shapes, I see love wanting only to freely bloom. I think I won’t complain.–Neil Reid
I’m still struggling, but I’m finding my way forward. Part of that path involves showing up here with you, even if I have to fight myself to do it.
About a month ago, my daughter and I drove up the coast of California into Oregon and Washington. Although this trip wasn’t what I had hoped, I got some pretty photos. Here are some of the best from day one.
I’d love to know if you have a favorite photo; can you guess mine?
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These photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.
After the tremendous high of self-publishing my book in April, I’ve spiraled into a funk so deep I’m hesitant to even speak about it. I’ve resisted naming it or giving it power, but the truth is as plain as the sweatpants I’ve been wearing for days.
I’m not doing great.
While I can rally when my friends and family need me, it takes everything out of me. My default Pollyanna attitude, always seeing the joy and wonder in everything, is slowly fading away. It’s harder and harder to put a positive spin on things, and as a result, I’m dissociating more and more. I check out for hours and days at a time by playing on my phone or binge watching TV, often doing both at the same time.
The creative spark I had just months ago seems lost.
Yesterday I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. I’m picking fights with my family, crying easily, and my body hurts all the time. I feel myself stiffening in all ways. It could be stress in my life, the state of the world, perimenopause, or most likely, all of those things combined.
It’s time to seek help. Again.
Sigh.
Why am I telling you all this? Well, I think part of getting through this is going to be recommitting to blogging again. Reaching out to this beautiful community as my whole broken self and saying, hey, I sort of need a hug right now and maybe you do too, so how about we hug each other with words? That sounds weird, but you know what I mean. We aren’t alone. None of us.
So, yeah. I’m here.
How are you? I seriously want to know. Good? Bad? Tired? Energized? Did you get a new dog? Your cat do something funny? What projects are you working on? Tell me all the things.
I might not be doing great, but I’m going to show up. I’ve taken a ton of photos lately and it’s time to edit them and share them with you. Maybe the joy of the tiny details will help me in my recovery, and who knows, maybe you’ll find something about them to love too.
I’ll leave you with this photo my daughter took of me in Washington earlier this month. I remember thinking in a world where an artist creates something this magical, anything is possible. I’m holding onto that feeling, even if it’s tiny.
some say we return to stars light returning to source but I won’t say it to you as your child left too soon
instead I’ll focus on moonlight grief rippling across the land a sliver of silver beside Venus how small words feel now
once he pulled my giggly son across a green lawn over and over “you can stop anytime,” I said he shrugged, “but he’s so happy”
some say we will meet again across the rainbow bridge but I won’t say it to you as your boy left too soon *Dedicated to my aunty Nel and my cousin Josh. I wish I could be there today to celebrate his life with you. He will be greatly missed. I love you all.
Bridgette Tales 