“I spry my closed vision over the streets of this city and the shadows lurching within it.” —Suman Pokhrel
I’ve spent the week in various places in downtown Sacramento and it reminded me how much I miss traveling. I used to visit new cities, exploring on my own, letting my curiosity guide me. I’d strike up conversations with strangers, share a bit of their worldview for a moment, and I always left feeling renewed. While I’ve not done much of it lately, there are moments that feed that creative energy. Little artist dates, as Julie Cameron calls them.
One such date was a quick stop in Petaluma on the way back from our Dillion Beach trip. The teens went one way and I went the other. Although it was quick, there was plenty for me to feast my eyes upon. Here are a few of my favorite shots. Let me know if you have a favorite and let’s travel together soon.
Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
“Women have served all these centuries as looking glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.” —Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
This week my assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to capture reflections. I went to Folsom Lake this morning at sunrise. The gusty winds made the water choppy and photography a bit challenging. As a result, most of these photos aren’t sticking to the theme. I’m learning to pivot when this happens and enjoy being in nature. I met a very charming fisherman and a beautiful grandfather taking his son and grandson out in a small boat.
Isn’t it remarkable what we can find when we stop to look? Let me know if you have a favorite photo and I hope your week ahead is filled with unexpected surprises.
#1#2#3#4#5#6#7#8#9#10#11#12#13#14#15
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
“Anything is grand if it’s done on a large enough scale.” —Donna Tartt, The Secret History
This week my assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to capture a sense of scale. After finding an old photo of my dad in a rice field for my Shoebox Poetry series, I wanted to take photos of my daughter in a field. I figured it would do two things—show a sense of scale and give us a chance to recreate the image.
We found a field near my sister-in-law’s house filled with bright yellow flowers. It was muddy and a bit difficult, but I’m extremely happy with these photos. I hope you like them too! The rest of the photos were taken driving around looking for cranes. We found a few, but they were never quite in the right position. The clouds ended up being the star of the day. Let me know which of these best fits the assignment or if you have a favorite. Have a wonderful week!
Note: These photos were taken last Thursday. I’m currently on an emotional trip moving my mother to Washington state. I’ll post more about it later this 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
I’ve struggled to find words to process the last few years.
We’ve collectively lived through something hard.
Impossibly hard.
I can’t write about the enormity of the experience, so I’ll take it to the personal micro-level.
I lost my grandmother to Covid. I didn’t get to say goodbye and we didn’t have a funeral for her.
My son had two terrible accidents. They were scary. I relive them daily and I hold him too close.
My daughter didn’t react well to social distancing. Her light dimmed so much I felt I might lose her.
Our family was together all the time, but somehow things got messy and convoluted. The undercurrent of fear kept us on edge, too internal, and we became strange to each other.
I want to move forward and say 2022 is the year it all changes, but it feels like rebuilding a puzzle without knowing the picture, and some of the pieces could be missing. It’s an uneasy feeling.
Yet, I’m going to try anyway.
Trying for me looks like refocusing on daily journaling, the short story challenge, and recommitting to posting to this blog. I’m moving my body and cooking dinner. I’m taking vitamins and sticking to a budget. I cleaned my closets. I’m making plans with friends.
These are important steps forward, creating new focus and new habits.
But if I learned anything from watching the Muppet Christmas Carol on repeat all December, we have to live in the past, present, and the future.
Not everything during the last two years was awful.
The dark night sky had some glittery stars, and they were incredibly beautiful.
Can I show you?
There was time to watch the sunrise and the sunset.
We drew this chalk mural for our neighbors to see as they walked by our house. We also hung hearts and paper cranes in our front window. It gave us a purpose and made us feel more connected to the outside world.
There was more time to spend outdoors, and we hiked a lot.
My sweet nephew got in on the hiking, too. Silly faces were a requirement.
We did an online challenge of trying to copy famous paintings. I think we nailed it.
We snuck away to a beach house during the lockdown, and took a walk on the empty beach. It began to rain, and we saw starfish everywhere. We lost count at 100.
I grew my first ever pumpkin, and then…
I became queen of the pumpkins.
I did some of my daughter’s school work with her and drew this beauty.
We did numerous photo shoots with Puff the Magic Hamster, who was a wonderful sport about it.
We had our own May Day, and it’s my favorite picture of us.
My son got his first car,
and my daughter grew wings.
I got to take my nephew to his first rock concert and see him light up.
I got my first tattoo, a matching wave with my best friend.
I captured this moment at the aquarium.
When I could hug my mother again, it was everything.
And when it was safe, this group got together and my heart was full.
My kids tease me because I take a lot of pictures, but I’m grateful. Looking through these memories, and there were a lot more, it helps me remember the last two years have been hard, yes, but also filled with tiny moments of beauty and joy.
As they filed passed her, she grabbed a smooth stone from the basket and placed it into their waiting hands. In silence they accepted the stone and lined up outside the classroom.
For the next 20 minutes or so they walked in complete silence. Some clutched the stone toward their chest. Others tossed it in the air occasionally letting it fall to the ground. All were silent.
They followed their teacher as she led them off the school campus, across the street, through the neighborhood to a well-worn path that cut down to the river.
Forming a line along the river’s edge, the children watched their teacher and mimicked her movements. She held the stone out in front of her with both hands. She closed her eyes. When she opened them she threw the stone out into the river and watched the ripple cascade out from where it fell. Recognizing their cue, all the children started tossing in their stones. They stood quietly watching where they fell.
Stepping back from the river they formed a circle.
“Would anyone like to share what they were thinking about?”
Hands raised very quickly.
“I was thinking how I need to be nicer to my brother.”
“I want to do more things for my dog.”
“I want to work on my patience.”
“I think I can listen to my mom more.”
After sharing, the class sang several songs they had prepared for the day. The songs were filled with glee and hopefulness.
The walk back was anything but quiet. Lots of silliness, giggling and reflection.
“That was weird not talking, but cool.”
“I think we could have surprised a deer!”
“I’m proud of our class.”
Once in the classroom they had the traditional snack of apples and honey.
The teacher then presented the children with a new stone and said “Shanah Tovah,” which means “Good Year.”
The stones that were thrown in the river represented things to “cast off” from the previous year. The new stone represents the year to come.
This was my sons third grade class celebrating Rosh Hashanah. He attends a charter Waldorf school and it’s part of the third grade curriculum. They have been learning, through story and watercolor painting, the creation story. Rosh Hashanah is the “anniversary” of the creation of Adam and Eve.
These are 8- and 9-year-old children who walked in complete silence for almost 30 minutes AND participated in self-reflection.
Love this.
Next week the children will be building temporary structures called sukkah’s and the week will culminate in an evening feast for all the families.
Love this too.
I feel so lucky to have witnessed this beautiful example of reverence and reflection that is at the heart of Waldorf education.
I was even able to cast my own stone into the water. As I watched it sink to the bottom I tried to let all my pain, anger and sadness sink with it.
I’m doing work, my friends. I am starting to feel hope. Thanks for all the kind words and hugs. They have not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.
Bridgette Tales 