“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” – Robert Louis Stevenson
I was gifted an overnight trip to Tahoe with my daughter and her best friend. I didn’t know how badly I needed this break. It gave me the chance to get away from my chores, marvel at the beauty of the world, make up stories about monsters hiding in dark snow, and sing in the car at the top of my lungs.
While my life has been hard lately, it’s equally beautiful. It’s the dark bare trees standing up in a field of white. I’d like to share a few things with you.
A childhood friend died unexpectedly last week. Cori introduced me to Sweet Valley High books and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have fond memories of playing in her pool, doing runway shows in her hallway, and snuggling in blankets to watch movies. I’m devasted for the sister left behind as she’s now lost her father and both her older sisters. Why does tragedy strike some families more than others? It’s wildly unfair.
My daughter continues to struggle with her mental health. This week we had some of the hardest conversations I’ve had in my life, but we are moving forward. She’s getting stronger and bolder about her recovery. Healing isn’t linear and sometimes those steps back are necessary to take another leap forward.
My mother is moving more than 500 miles away in less than two weeks and I’m not ready for her to go. I’ll be helping her move and I know this is good for her, but I’m grieving the loss of being able to see her whenever I want. Super plus side, I’ll get to take photographs in Washington and I’ve heard it’s breathtaking.
I’ve been reading poetry monthly at a wonderfully inclusive and supportive bookstore called A Seat at the Table. They’ve offered to help me launch my book career by hosting a reading/book signing for my 52-short story collection in early May. I’ve got a lot of work to do before I’m ready, but it’s exciting and feels like purpose and joy.
I’ve not posted as much lately and I’m behind in reading my favorite bloggers, but I’m back at it today. Thanks to those who continue to root me on, your support means the world to me. Let me know what you think of these Tahoe photos and have a wonderful week!
Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
This week my assignment for the 52-week photo challenge was to capture leading lines, which simply means looking for lines that lead your eye toward a certain direction in the photo. It was a fun assignment and although I think it would have been easier to do in a city setting, I’m overall happy with my images.
My daughter and I went to one of our favorite places, Effie Yeaw Nature Center, and met up with an old friend who happens to be a fantastic photographer. She gave me some excellent pointers and we had a wonderful time catching up and shooting together.
Let me know which shot you think best uses the concept of leading lines. I’ve numbered the photos again this week and I’ve included some fun extra images outside the assignment. Which is your favorite? Thanks for supporting me!
#1#2#3#4#5#6#7#8#9#10
Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com
“It’s funny how the beauty of art has so much more to do with the frame than the artwork itself.” -Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
This week my assignment for the 52-week photo challenge was to capture something using framing. I visited High-Hand Nursery and although it provided me with lots of beautiful shots, I struggled with symmetry and straight lines. Ultimately, my shots fell short. I wonder if I’m trying too hard. It felt easier to take photos when I wasn’t searching for a specific type of shot. Am I overthinking or is this part of the learning process?
My daughter is taking a photography class and my mother recently got a camera, so both joined me at the nursery. It was fun to walk around together taking photos and it was even more fun to see how different all our shots are.
Let me know which shot you think best uses the concept of framing. I’ve added numbers to the photos this week so it’s easier to comment. I’ve also included a few extra photos from the day. Can you guess which photo is my favorite? Have a wonderful week!
#1#2#3#4#5#6#7#8#9#10
Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com
There once was an orphan who traveled alone at sunrise through a vast forest. As the pink sky touched the cold ground the wind woke. It swirled and roared. It raged and tugged. The orphan was startled but didn’t stop.
She double-knotted the yellow ribbon in her hair, tucked her silver locket beneath her old cloak, and walked and walked. The world around her was alive with sounds, but she heard none, for she was lost in the depths of her enormous grief.
It came to pass she found herself at the bottom of a steep hill facing a rather large tortoise. The two looked at each other for a long time without speaking. It was the tortoise who finally sliced through the silence with his rough, slow voice.
“I’m dying. There’s no other way to say it.”
The orphan didn’t know how to respond and so she said nothing. The wind blew bits of stones and leaves down the sloping hill, some of them landing on the tortoise’s large, round shell. The orphan picked them off one by one.
“I’d like to die at the top of this hill and not the bottom, for it’s better to go up than to go down. Don’t you think?”
The tortoise spoke with certainty, but the orphan had never thought of this before. After giving it several minutes of consideration, she nodded her agreement and spoke.
“I will help you.”
With this, she and the tortoise started up the side of the rocky hill. The going was very slow as the tortoise was old and the wind blew strongly. Each step required a considerable amount of effort. The girl tried everything to move the tortoise faster—lifting, pushing and pulling. But the tortoise was too large and she was too small.
“I don’t know what to do.”
She sounded defeated, but the tortoise blinked at her with watery eyes and said nothing. He had faith in her and so she had to keep trying.
Hours passed with very little progress and although the orphan tried as hard as she could to remain positive, she soon became gloomy and frustrated.
“Wind, do you hear me? I need your help.”
The wind isn’t used to people speaking directly to it, so it decided to answer.
“What do you expect me to do?”
It didn’t take the orphan long to come up with an idea, for she was a clever child with an earnest heart.
“If you could blow in the other direction, it would help me in pushing the tortoise up the hill.”
It wouldn’t be hard for the wind to change direction, but it was stubborn and didn’t like being told what to do.
“What will you give me in return?”
The orphan looked at the tortoise and at herself. She had very little to offer, but not nothing.
“I will give you my yellow hair ribbon if you help us.”
The wind had been tugging at the ribbon for most of the morning and it did indeed want it. The color matched the sun and the wind thought it would look lovely soaring in the clouds.
“Very well. If you give me the ribbon, I will help you.”
The orphan felt sad, for her father gave her the ribbon, but it was the only way to help the tortoise. She untied the double knot and the wind ripped the ribbon from her hand in an instant. She watched it fly through the air and then felt the breeze change, so it pushed at her back.
“Thank you, wind! Now we will reach the top in no time.”
Indeed, the orphan and the tortoise made great progress up the hill, but as the sun reached the center of the sky they came upon a rushing river too wide to step across and too fast to walk through. The water splashed at her bare feet and she again felt gloomy and frustrated.
“I don’t know what to do.”
It seemed an impossible thing to cross such a river, but the tortoise blinked at her with watery eyes and said nothing. He had faith in her and so she had to keep trying.
“River, do you hear me? I need your help.”
The river was used to people crying tears at its banks or throwing in wishing stones but rarely did someone address it directly. It was impressed by the orphan and decided to answer.
“What do you expect me to do?”
It didn’t take the orphan long to come up with an idea, for she was a clever child with an earnest heart.
“We need to cross your waters but you are too fast. Is there a way you could slow down to let us pass?”
The river could slow, but it rarely did so. It was proud of how strong and fast it flowed.
“What will you give me in return?”
Again, the orphan looked at the tortoise and at herself. She had very little to offer, but not nothing.
“I could give you my shiny locket to dance within your churning waters. It would look very pretty amongst the rocks and the fish.”
The orphan pulled open her cloak and the river saw the sparkling silver heart strung around her neck. It did want to feel the joy of having something so stunning in its waters.
“Very well. If you give me the locket, I will help you.”
The orphan was sad, for her mother gave her the locket and it contained a tiny picture of the two of them, but it was the only way to help the tortoise. She gave the smooth silver a kiss and threw it into the water.
In a flash, the locket was swept away by the fast current. The water laughed with glee and then started to slow. Soon it was a narrow brook, bubbling over a sea of colorful stones. Although their feet got a bit wet, they were able to cross and continue on their way.
“Thank you, river! Now we will reach the top in no time.”
For a while, they walked on easily with the aid of the wind, but soon it came to pass that a giant boulder made of dark grey stone landed in front of them with a booming thud. It covered the entire path and the orphan could see no way around it. She pushed and kicked at it, but it did not move and again she felt gloomy and frustrated.
“I don’t know what to do.”
She wanted to cry for the boulder was so gigantic and heavy, but the tortoise blinked at her with watery eyes and said nothing. He had faith in her and so she had to keep trying.
“Boulder, do you hear me? I need your help.”
The boulder didn’t respond, but a tiny troll hiding within its shadows did. It stepped out and scowled. It looked almost human except for its body was covered in twisting dark mushrooms and its skin was dark grey.
“What do you expect me to do?”
It didn’t take the orphan long to come up with an idea, for she was a clever child with an earnest heart.
“We need to get to the top of the hill. Could you move the boulder for us?”
The troll didn’t trust humans for they always made fun of its ugly appearance, but the child didn’t laugh or make faces. The troll scratched its belly and sat on the ground crossing its legs in front of it.
“What will you give me in return?”
Again the orphan looked at the tortoise and at herself. She had very little to offer, but not nothing.
“I could give you my cloak. It’s not fancy but it will keep you warm and will make it easier for you to pass through town without being noticed.”
The troll liked this idea very much. Moving a boulder was easy for such a reward.
“Very well. If you give me the cloak, I will help you.”
The orphan was sad, for her grandmother had made the cloak for her, but it was the only way to help the tortoise. She unclasped the wooden button holding it in place and handed it to the troll.
With great delight, it leaped to its feet and flung the cloak around its hunched shoulders. Almost invisible within the black fabric, it pressed the boulder hard with its gnarled hands until it wiggled free from the path and rolled down to the bottom of the hill.
“Thank you, troll! Now we will reach the top in no time.”
The troll ran toward town and the orphan and the tortoise continued on. As the orange sun touched the horizon, signaling day’s descent into night, the wind slept and they finally reached the very top of the hill. The tortoise settled beneath the shady branches of an old oak tree and smiled widely at the orphan.
“Thank you for helping an old tortoise to make its final journey. I will die now, but before I do I must ask for one final favor. It’s very important to me.”
The orphan looked down at her pale pink shirt and torn blue skirt. She had nothing for the tortoise and the thought made her very sad. She wanted to help but her ribbon, locket, and cloak were gone. She had nothing else to give.
“What could I give you?”
The tortoise wanted to say “you have given me so much already” but it had very little time left. Instead, it extended its neck as far as it could out of its shell and spoke its final words.
“After I have died and the moon rises high in the sky, take one of the rocks from the ground and smash my shell to pieces. Promise it will be done.”
The girl was horrified at the thought, but the tortoise blinked at her with watery eyes. He had faith in her and so she said she would do as he asked. He smiled, closed his eyes, and within moments the great big tortoise had left the world.
A full moon danced across a sky of bright blinking stars. The girl wept for the tortoise and then for herself. Not only was she an orphan, but she’d given away the last remaining pieces of her life. There was nothing left to do but fulfill her promise to the tortoise and hope for a better tomorrow.
It didn’t take her long to find a big rock, and with her eyes squeezed tight, she hit the shell as hard as she could. It made a loud cracking sound and she fell backward onto the ground.
It was several minutes before she dared to look, but she was astonished when she did. The tortoise shell lay split down the center and instead of exposing the soft body within, the shell was filled with glittering gold pieces and bright colorful gems. It was a large enough treasure to live the rest of her life in comfort and luxury.
The orphan cried happy tears for she would not have to struggle anymore.
“Thank you, tortoise. I shall never forget you.”
The girl tore a piece of fabric from her skirt and made a pouch to hold the treasure. As she walked to town, she imagined all the ways this good fortune could be shared with others. For she was indeed a clever child with an earnest heart and would live happily for the rest of her days.
Note: In my writing class this week, we read an article on the elements of a good fairy tale. It brought back many fond memories of reading to my kids before bed and their years of Waldorf schooling.
With a burst of inspiration, I wrote this fairy tale in a single afternoon. It’s very different than my typical writing style and I actually broke some of my writing rules, but it felt like the thing I needed to write—some levity during a time of struggle. I hope this story brings a smile to your face and maybe you can share it with a child in your life.
he calls my daughter Annie Oakley placing a BB gun in her small hands “you got this, girllll” he croons channeling his inner John Wayne
bravery shines in her blue eyes as the line of empty cans fall he tells her she can do anything
seeing man the man to see
busy hands covered in silver rings he builds a house in the backyard a place for his daughter to play he hangs a horseshoe over the door
I grow up within the wooden walls dancing with my best friend knowing he would protect us
tinker man the man to see
you don’t leave his house without a pocketful of treasure a genuine rock from Mars jewels and books and toys
each item has a tall tale he’ll tell you if you listen with a joke and a wink
storyteller man the man to see
he taught me to fish at 10 with wrinkled moving hands years later he taught my son the same casting tricks
he loved my cooked beans and always made me smile I’ll forever be one of Earl’s girls
gentle man the man to see
This poem is a tribute to my childhood best friend’s father who passed recently at 92. I was only a small part of his long life, but he left a big impact on me and my children.
“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson
I’ve found a new walking path near my house which is kinder to my healing hip. There are beautiful old trees, a view of the mountains, lots of birds, and a pond with ducks. I’m grateful for the beauty it contains and the gentle slopping path I can walk and think.
My childhood best friend lost her father recently. He was like a father to me too, a loving and beautiful man who loved to fix and collect things. I’m working on a poem to honor him, but it’s not ready yet. Instead, I decided to do another photo post this week and share my special place with you.
May you find a moment of peace today.
Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
“When I was a kid I believed everything I was told, everything I read, and every dispatch sent out by my own overheated imagination. This made for more than a few sleepless nights, but it also filled the world I lived in with colors and textures I would not have traded for a lifetime of restful nights.” ― Stephen King
Welcome back to the 52-week photo challenge. This week our assignment was to capture texture, which is something I naturally look for when taking photos. My daughter and I visited a park near our house and the sun was really too bright. While I got a variety of shots, I was ultimately disappointed with my offerings. The colors were either over-exposed or simply too bright. The images below are the ones I could salvage and edit.
I can only share one photo with the challenge group. I’m leaning toward either the lichen or the oily water shot. Which photo do you think best illustrates texture? Thanks as always for cheering me on and have a wonderful week.
NOTE: To my regular followers, life has been a bit on the stressful side lately. As a result, you may see me posting two posts a week for a while instead of three. Thank you for your love and understanding.
Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com.
Syn stands softly illuminated in the shadowy doorway between our worlds. “My child,” she says soothingly
sweeping stray strands away from wet cheeks. Tenderness drips thickly—honey-sweet sympathy for mortals stuck
between justice and wintery injustice. Her pale eyes see what fleeting control looks like—its slippery
eel texture slithering deep below angry waters. Desperate hands grasping slimy weeds pulling pulling pulling toward
bright metamorphosis or crimson death. Knowledge lays within clear moonlit waves, torn by ravenous ravens screaming
mine, mine, mine. Ancient battles. Wood grains worn from violent pounding, brass doorknobs forcibly turned. Set
against it, Syn pushes back. Roaring, she melts man’s killing machines, burning trigger fingers, plucking prideful
plumage, tearing it apart piece by piece. No mercy for hateful truth slayers—Syn doesn’t forget
weeping mothers or irate fathers who hide clenched fists behind unshaven blank faces. “Be still,” she
whispers, standing inside cracked door frames, palms held in silent prayer. Forever guarding mortals from ourselves.
*Syn is the Norse goddess of watchfulness, truth, and doorways. She guards the door of the Fenislar (Friggs palace) refusing entrance to those unworthy. This poem is my latest attempt at processing the injustice around gun laws and mass shootings.
“Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.” -Neil Gaiman
Welcome back to the 52-week photo challenge. This week our assignment was to photograph motion blur, which was something I’d never attempted before. I was required to get more comfortable with using my camera in manual mode and to use a slow shutter speed. Mistakes were made. Lots of them.
While most of my photos were an epic failure, I did learn a lot. Next time I’ll need to buy or borrow a tripod and perhaps a flash. So many of these images are so close to being good but are blurred in places I don’t want them to be. Not quite there. I went out twice (once during the day and once at night) and these are the best images I was able to capture. While I love the one with my daughter, I think the one with the fire is the best example of motion blur. Let me know what you think.
Thanks as always for cheering me on and have a wonderful day!
Here are some bonus photos not using motion blur also taken this week:
Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com.
Bridgette Tales 