I was far too small
to reach the dusty glass
jars stacked on the wooden
shelves of your garage. I’d
skate by wondering what orange
or yellow or green meant
and if you’d teach me
your secrets. I outgrew wanting
to know before your mind
forgot all the things—including
me. It’s been 17 years
since you left without meeting
your great-grandchildren and now
I wonder if my persimmon
jam would fit beside yours.
weathered, treasured pages
lit twinkling lights
childhood has stages
measured in Christmas nights
rollicking, frolicking fire
child-led merrymaking
favorite book magnifier
for a mother’s heartbreaking
old family traditions
wee bit oversized
find new conditions
for love to crystalize
sharp scissors snip
trimming the top
recast as partnership
family love doesn’t stop
*Inspired by the family’s favorite Christmas book “Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree” and my need to learn flexibility as my son turns 18 this month.
Once upon a time. Nightbirds
forget their songs. Twig fingers
snap. Sunset shadows stretch beyond
the dense thicket. Princess wakes.
Flowing red hair, starry blue
eyes. Gossamer gown and dianthus
lips. Sneaking outside with thin
cobweb slippers and apple cheeks.
Tenebrous clouds tap dance through
black night sky. Faceless wolvie
packs roam the woods. Burrs
grab delicate skin. She runs.
Gloomy twisty forest. An abandoned
garden bed beneath a Linden
tree. She curls inside orange
pumpkin’s sticky pulpy depths.
Empty dark monster hisses, spits
poisonous lies. Heavy razor-clawed
feet press firmly. Her golden
light slowly dims and fades.
Ravens call. Deers rush. Rabbits
thump. Her heart shoots free
flashing bright across the inky
wide open heavens. Fighting spirit.
Bold as sunflowers, lightning bolt
strong. She’s thick roots burrowed
deep. An ocean wave thundering
along sandy shores. Princess survives.
*Dedicated to my strong girl. Keep fighting. I see you.
“Sometimes I think that ideas float through the atmosphere like huge squishy pumpkins, waiting for heads to drop on.” -Neil Gaiman
If it’s not clear by now, I’m a huge fan of all things fall. Few things bring me as much joy as our annual family trip to Rickey Ranch Pumpkin Patch. This year, as we are facing some big family struggles, every smile felt brighter and every pumpkin more delightful.
Although we went during terrible lighting and most of my pictures didn’t really turn out, I’m happy to have captured the day. May it bring a smile to your face and drop some wonderful ideas onto your head.
As a bonus happy photo, we recently adopted a new guinea pig. My daughter named her Toast the Ghost and she’s simply splendid.
I’m not sure what the snails
thought when you gathered them in
your tiny hands and raced them
across the slick glass back door
maybe they liked the chalk rainbow
you’d drawn as a finish line
or how you happily cheered each
one saying, “you can do it!”
or maybe they were terrified they’d
suffer a fatal fall but kept
going anyway because your belief in
them was greater than their fear
whatever they thought all those years
ago in our tiny wild backyard
the echoes of your joyful voice
still manages to make me smile
the day after you left us
purple flowers erupted
in a spot they hadn’t before
velvet soft petals lit by sunlight
quietly whispering love
delicate yet strong just like you
“Some roads aren’t meant to be traveled alone.”
-Chinese Proverb
My favorite thing to come out of quarantine was the tradition of evening drives with my daughter. We play loud music, talk about everything, and just drive. After spending the majority of last week apart from each other it felt good to get behind the wheel and see where the road took us. We found dragonflies, cows, our favorite parking lot, and a gorgeous sunset.
As we process our grief and plan a memorial to celebrate my mother-in-law, it felt extra special to have these moments of beauty to reflect on the blessings in our lives. Thank you to everyone who has reached out and supported our family. We feel the love.
treasured memories locked
within silken threads
slowly, slowly unraveling
pressed elbows leave
life’s strong imprint
gently, gently fading
circling butterflies through
cloudy skies forever
softly, softly loving
“The morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness.” -William Shakespeare
A gorgeous friend of mine writes and talks a lot about joy—seeking it out, the importance of recognizing it, and fighting for it even when it feels ridiculous. She inspires me all the time and this morning I did something purely for the joy of it. I hiked to a park by my house with my camera to capture the sunrise. It felt luxurious and I basked in the beauty of the world for an entire hour alone.
My mother-in-law has entered hospice care within the home of my kind, caring, and incredibly giving sister-in-law. This time in our lives is hard. Watching a woman of immeasurable strength and love fade before all our eyes is beyond difficult. While I don’t know what this next part looks like, I do know that even within these hard moments we can find gratitude and even joy.
All the photos above were taken with my Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW.
Here’s a bonus iPhone self-portrait:
“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? – it’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”
-Jack Kerouac, On the Road
I’ve shared many photos the last few weeks of my trip to Oregon but this final collection is the most special to me.
My grandmother died of Covid at the start of the pandemic. Although it took us several years, we were finally able to reunite her with her husband in a lush field of tall grasses on top of a beautiful Oregon mountain. The sun shone brightly and butterflies chased the truck as we left. It feels wonderful to know she’s where she wants to be and at peace.
Here are a few of the images from that day. I hope you enjoy them.
Bridgette Tales 