June 22, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Candy in a Dish

hot thighs, stomach rolls
sweaty armor, sweetly eaten
protect hard, hide soft

weary smiles, turn away
deep water, baggy clothes
dream free, life restored

II.

touched without my permission in hot
places where thumping music makes thighs
jump and sway, alcohol-filled stomach
churns truth until it tumbles, rolls

shadowed memories turn into wispy sweaty
kisses pressed against tightly layered armor
shattering fragile identity, fat words sweetly
whispered with fragrant wolfy breath—eaten

tumbling out dirty doors, stars protect
while Mother Moon watches with hard
kind eyes, stealthily struggling to hide
tears under swelling flesh made soft

fistfuls of candy devoured in weary
attempt to lock in realistic smiles
while broken-hearted I pirouette turn
carefully from danger; take me away

keep marching through tunnels down deep
sacred places boogeymen can’t go; water
too filled with sugary goodies baggy
after baggy blooming like puffy clothes

shaking nightmare voices off, golden dreams
swirl unfocused almost saying I’m free;
running even-breathed penning new life
while courageous sun promises hope restored

This poem is for others like me still processing old trauma and heartbreak anyway we can. May you find your way toward the healing sun. I hope to meet you there someday.

The format of this poem is one I did before, where each word in the first poem becomes the last line of each stanza in the second. Thank you for reading and supporting my poetry adventures.

June 20, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: Around the Pond

My photos this week were all taken around the pond at William Land Park in the early evening. It was warm outside and I learned the lotus flowers I wanted to capture only open early in the morning and are closed by mid-afternoon.

I had the intention of returning later in the week to try again, but my son started summer school and life got busy. Perhaps in a few weeks, when school finishes, I’ll have time to return to this beautiful spot.

Although I didn’t get the blooms, I am happy with the photos I was able to capture of the animals living around the pond, especially the dragonflies. Let me know what you think in the comments below and I hope you have a wonderful week.

What to see more?

June 15, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Free Mom Hugs

Past

would you have trusted me more
if I’d known about fingertip sparks
and fluttering hearts?

or if I’d really looked at
tiny pencil drawings on matchboxes and
folded paper napkins?

you’d pass notes I didn’t understand—
messages scrawled on scraps of paper
palm to palm

rainbows hung around your pretty neck;
delicate lovely things refracting light into
everything you did

you left without goodbyes—fleeing rejections
spurred by fevered religious hate disguised
as family love

you drew naked ladies in Paris
seeing worldly wonders dreaming nightly with
fingertips stained black

floating down stone steps in tailored
suits you charmed everyone with your
soft blue eyes

returning home sick, thick sketchbook under
heavy arms we talked about everything
but the truth

you left without me seeing you
kiss your lovers, pink-skinned blushing
on ornate bridges

or watching you dance under moonlit
skies with flowers tucked into your
fluffy blonde hair

Present

driving nowhere we sing with windows
down, wind blowing tangles into your
fluffy red hair

I sense something brewing behind quiet
lips, fingers fidget with your many
bright silver rings

with a trembling voice, you say
you like girls—scared of rejection
bare legs shake

you’ve known since kindergarten, but it
wasn’t something you wanted to explore
or talk about

honored, I listen to your deeply
held sacred truths; as you discover
who you are

my old friend breathes words of
comfort through me helping me ease
your coming out

grabbing soft hands tightly, I squeeze
three times letting you know my
love remains unchanged

balancing stone words we build together
walls to fight against those who
would seek destruction

inked drawings, musical explorations, the Heartstopper
you share everything with me, showing
me the way

crying at pride, past present swirl
promising to do better armed with
free mom hugs

In honor of Pride Month, I dedicate this poem to a dear high school friend who died of AIDS and my beautiful daughter who trusts me with her truth. I reference the show “Heartstopper” on Netflix and can’t recommend it enough for its sweet portrayal of love. Happy Pride Month!

June 13, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: A Day at the Zoo

I’ve been looking at a lot of photographs and find I’m really drawn to photojournalism. I love when a photographer tells a story through their images, capturing a moment in time or the essence of a person or place. I’d like to work on developing my own style of images.

On the road to improvement, I’ll be dedicating the next few weeks to photographing on a theme. This week, my offering is from a recent visit to the Sacramento Zoo. I had a small child with me, so I didn’t have as much time as I’d have liked to stay in one place and capture multiple images. However, it’s all part of the process and I rather enjoyed myself.

Thank you for your support and have a wonderful week.

What to see more?

June 8, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: The Midnight Grater

unable to move I gasp, turning
tumbling down rabbit holes meant
to not be remembered at dawn

Pulling up behind my darkened house in their
shiny black El Camino, bass booming—a thunderous
storm descends upon my unconscious fragile form. I
don’t hear their footsteps as they scribble scramble
through the muddy murky darkness toward sleeping me.

wondrous whispering willows lean in to
reveal secret truths, sacred words
hidden behind the cloudy half-lit moon

Steadfast friends, The Sand Man and The Grater
share midnight missions of messy madness. Sneaking in
at night’s exact middle, they come silently ruffling
my soft, warm blankets. Unknowing, I am fully
helpless to the whims of these nighttime lurkers.

when did missing sunshine turn my
insides colors, making a mockery
melody moment within my comfy covers

They simply divide and conquer, each moving around
my room to deliver their own precise brands
of nightly justice. The Sand Man sprinkling dream
dust into closed eyes, invoking silky soft dreams
of rest, while his counterpart sharpens his claws.

don’t be afraid little ones they
say as monsters lurk under
billowing bed sheets with cutting wits

I’ve never seen The Grater’s form, but I’ve
felt his silver touch as he comes to
dance with my worries. It seems rather unfair
he’s allowed access when the doors and windows
are so carefully locked with shiny brass deadbolts.

nothing blends into something, twist the
knob, turn the handle, flip
switch after switch without the keys

He presses his shiny sharp grates into whatever
skin he can reach, slipping under the quilted comforter
held tight by my sweaty fists. The words
come with him—frightening little whispery repetitions singing
songs of my insecurities/fears with feverish unrelenting cruelty.

he’s never coming back to you
you’ll be left alone with
dark silent shadows under creaking floorboards

The Tooth Fairy has seen his lumbering shape
peeking out from the sheets—flashing silver eyes
and sharpened talons. She folds her transparent wings
tightly together, snatching at long ago lost baby
teeth—forever forgetting her pouch of golden coins.

shivering, shaking, my body fights back
but movements do nothing to
protect openings—internal portals of pain

Heaviness, his tell-tale calling card, will linger
around me when I finally fully wake from
the night. Throwing off blankets, I yawn as
the echoes of his work stick tight on
red, raw skin. Failure feels immediate and imminent.

tomorrow always comes without command or
permission, blasting hazy new thoughts
refracted backward, inward, outward toward light

Breath deeply. Stretch. I mustn’t stay still for
the poison will set and I’ll stay in
bed. Fight to the shower to scrub the
sticky words off with fragrant suds, washing his
work down silver drains back to the darkness.

shake awake fingers, dance to life
toes, and say farewell to
nightmares until fractured, the moonlight returns

June 6, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: Shooting Through the Chaos

This week was another busy one. It seems I’m running from one place to the next with barely enough time to write or photograph. It was my nephew’s graduation and we have family visiting from out of town. I’ve gone to bed late and woken up early each day and I still feel behind in everything.

I’m disappointed in all my photos this week. I’m not sure if I’m simply exhausted or I’m at the tipping point where I can see the faults in my work but do not have the skills yet to fix them. I’ve included two photos from the graduation and a few from a visit to the California State Railroad Museum.

Thank you for stopping by and I hope you have a great week.

For more of my photography, check out my #100DayProject

June 1, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Saying Goodbye

The Waldorf school my daughter graduated from last week names each class after a tree. That tree becomes the class name, a symbol to rally the class together and form them into a cohesive unit. I wrote this poem to honor her teacher and the Linden tree class. The image was drawn on the chalkboard by her lovely teacher on their very first day together. I hope you enjoy it.

Under the Linden Tree

I. Branches and Leaves

Swept forth into the strong branches
of the Linden tree, you call out “look at me”
and “it’s not fair” straining to be heard among
the others. Within your fellow heart-shaped
leaves you found symmetry, serrated edges—your
pointed tips sharpened by your proximity to
magic.

Noisy bees circled, drawn by your
sweetness, your softness transformed by
storms into hardened beauty carved into
any form you like. Tilia, basswood, lime—
your names ring out like justice and peace
dancing around the base of graceful towering
magic.

Seasons danced happily through your
green leaves, braced together and held firm
by the juggling trunk’s deep roots far deeper
than any tempest could shake. Tiny creamy
yellow flowers burst forth in bundles, hanging
tight to the tree with ambrosial scented, delicate
magic.

Youth green fullness, brash and vividly bold,
gave way to golden autumn’s crisp firmness
curled tight together clinging on for one more
precious moment. Yet, breezes come to transform
one into many, flying on fitted spiraling wings from
your fertile orchard, singing the forever song of Linden
magic.

II. Trunk

Blown into an orchard, banded cord thick with
butterflies, steady roots plant deep in slippery soil
ripe with crawling, noisy seekers crying out with
“whys” and “how comes.” Beneath the Linden
branches the red-winged cardinal’s two-part whistle
sings of beginnings, suns, moons—ancient woody
magic.

Gathered together under loosely woven branches
communing and feasting wildness transforms into
dancing movement. Light streaks through limbs to
cover crowns as Jack Frost frolics with snowflakes as
hands, melting hardness into puddles of kindred
kindness. Leafy bunches become conical, balanced
magic.

Ridged, furrowed scaly bark grows and smooths
until shining with etched runes it reaches across
fast-moving water to capture sacred geometric
truths within bright colored folds. Bears prowl
near, scratching fears, stretching up toward
cascading waters, ravens, dragons, stones–Earth
magic.

Winds blow birds nests nestled into grooves worn
smooth by patient hands. Across distances the song
remains strong, drawing the Linden into itself, singing
melodies deeply woven through delicate leafy veins
forever connected, forever entwined, forever part of
sunlight’s loving embrace, warmth wrapped in bonded
magic.

May 30, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: Haziness Abounds

It’s been an incredibly busy week with my daughter graduating from 8th grade. Between crying, looking through old photos, and running from one event to the next, photography has been far from my mind. I’ve been feeling blurry, scattered, and overcome with many emotions.

Although I wish I’d taken photos of all the events, I really couldn’t. I needed to see and feel it all without hiding behind the lens, to be fully present with the community we are leaving after 13 years. I did manage a few photos around the house this week, and I’ve been given permission to share some of the senior photos I took of my nephew a few weeks ago. He graduates at the end of this week and I’m going to have a lot more chances to cry. He was the tiniest baby I’ve ever seen and he’s grown into a handsome, funny, and amazing young man.

I hope you enjoy my photography offerings this week.

For more of my photography, check out my #100DayProject

May 25, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Summer Fruit

moist from chlorine-dipped playing
I cut watermelon into tiny squares
popping bites into my mouth
savoring summer’s near sweetness

the news finds me, wriggles into my
consciousness with painful realness
sucking the wind from my gut—
my Elaine teaches in Texas

she answers right away, but the
relief lasts two seconds, two breaths
more than those babies have left
in their tiny 10-year-old bodies

awards ceremony in the morning
death in the afternoon, these mothers
had to identify their child’s bodies made
unrecognizable by AR-15’s brutality

“thoughts and prayers” elicit mother
bear anger, growls growing deeper
can’t protect, can’t stop the broken
not again, not again, not again

one tourniquet in “stop the bleed” kits
kindergarten active shooter drills
more guns less guns battle rages
while kids remain “sitting ducks”

mental health month means colored
ribbons tied on campus trees as a boy
almost my son’s age finds his only
hope in the power of a too-lethal gun

four classmates of my daughter
are hospitalized for mental health
while we double down on upping
test scores and blocking abortion

I shook the hands of a Parkland teen
begging Washington D.C. to take action
four years ago, today I wish I could hug
him and tell him all his work still mattered

evil, corrupt, greedy, selfish, blind—hope feels
minuscule scrolling long list of mass shootings
while saying the same things over and over
wondering what words can even do

sullied by fear I can’t ignore, I considered
keeping my kids close today, locked within
my arms to sob into their perfect shoulders
keenly aware of America’s vast brokenness

it’s spirit day at my daughter’s school
water fights, popsicles, last-minute gleeful
moments before goodbyes leak into
summer sunshine, summer fruit

I don’t know what else to do but sob
and bare witness as mothers mourn
and greedy splintered politics remain
–sour watermelon promises

Author’s note: If you’ve come here to debate me, I will delete your comment.

May 23, 2022 by Bridgette

#100DayProject: Photography-Week Fourteen

“The best teacher is experience and not through someone’s distorted point of view.” –Jack Kerouac

This is the final week of the #100 Day Project. I’ve learned so much about myself through this journey of taking hundreds of photos and publishing more than 70 here on the blog. I’ve gained a lot of perspective into the world of photography and fallen in love with my camera.

I also learned, that while I love nature photography, I don’t have the patience or time to get the shots I really want to capture. The hummingbird photo below, my favorite I’ve taken through the 100 days, was a happy accident. I was walking through Nevada City when this little fellow buzzed past my ear and then began flitting from flower to flower. I only got a few shots before he zipped away, but I love this one so much I’m going to frame it.

Although the project is coming to an end, I’ll continue to post photos each Monday. I have some great chances for photography coming up this summer and I hope I’ll be able to get my camera out of manual mode more and delve deeper into the wonderful ways I can capture the world around me.

Thank you to everyone who has followed my progress and given me feedback. I have felt very encouraged and supported in this journey. It’s not the end, but another beginning.

If you’re unfamiliar with the 100 Day Project, the concept is simple. You choose any creative project you like and do it every day for 100 days, sharing your process on social media using the hashtag #The100DayProject. This year the dates are Feb. 13-May 24.