Through the Broken Pane

Everyday I drive past this old abandoned cabin. I am so intrigued by buildings that have been left behind. I am aways wondering about the lives and stories that once filled those walls. Today as we were driving I decided I wanted to stop and photograph this long forgotten relic.abandoned-6 I walked towards the gaping holes and I peered inside. It's in very rough shape as I see it slowly twisting its way back into the earth.abandoned-9

I was about to turn and walk away, but suddenly I started noticing little points of interest. Like this jug smudged in dirt with beautiful light streaming in from behind. Perfectly intact, just sitting there.abandoned

And those tin cans that were strewn along the warped shelf.abandoned-8

A rusty soap dish held by peeling wallpaper.abandoned-4

I snapped a few more photos then we jumped back in the truck and we were on our way. I didn't think that much of the photos, I almost felt dismissive about them. Hours later I began thumbing thru the pictures and suddenly my eyes fell upon something magical. I just love when that happens. Somehow my camera captures moments and nuances that my eyes simply don't pick up on. I kept staring at this one photo of the broken window pane. I became transfixed on the door that was peering through the broken glass. Then I began to wonder, what's behind that door? It was not so much a literal, but rather a figurative question.abandoned-10

It reminded me of the beauty that comes from brokenness. It is often thru that hole, the broken space, that a new portal emerges before us and opens up in our lives. What's behind this new door and where will it lead? I have come to understand that time is the great revealer of all those wonderings and secrets. I do know one thing for sure, nothing in life has ever happened the way I have expected. So I would imagine that through that door new adventures and new life await me.

It's true the saying, "When one door closes another door always reopens for us." It seems as though new beginnings are full of brokenness and bravery.

Here I go. I'm reaching for the handle to have a look inside.abandoned-2abandoned-7

Simple Moments

A simple post about simple pleasures. Simplicity mixed with low expectations yields the greatest joy. "What would you like to do today?" He asked. Without hesitation I replied, "Let's go to Camden!"

camden-12We packed a picnic and then we jumped in the car to start our drive. It felt good, the sun was shining brightly which cast so much warmth on us. As hokey as this may sound, I sang along to Christmas carols that were playing on the radio and I found myself smiling.  This moment felt happy. Happiness has felt so fleeting lately. Life has been upside down, uncertain and a bit scary. Yet here I was, experiencing real joy, in such a simple moment. It felt natural. I felt light.


Our first stop was at a quaint coffee shop that overlooks the harbor. camden-11

"Two hot chocolate's with extra whipped cream, please!" camden-10camden-9camden-8camden-7It was a day of roaming the streets with no agenda. We window shopped, browsed, chatted endlessly, looked over all the holiday decorations, reminisced, laughed, wandered aimlessly. Just taking it all in. The only shopping took place in a candy store that caught a certain someone's attention. One of us has a terrible sweet tooth which makes our dentist very happy.

camden-5This day, this moment, this is what the good life is all about.  Savoring where we are in life. Not looking ahead or behind. Just being present.camden-13camden-6camdencamden-4On our drive home we stopped and walked along the jagged breakwater. The sun was beginning to lower itself, casting such a beautiful glow. Holding this sacred space felt golden. A chill in the air descended, signifying the closing of this simple, but very special day. camden-17These are the moments that will live on.camden-19

A Season of Change

It's been a long time since I poured my heart onto these pages. It's not about neglect, but rather a desperate need for quiet. I feel like writing again, opening back up the portals of expression. It feels good to be back. "A Season of Change," with that being said, let me welcome you to my lifestyle makeover that is taking place in Maine. Yes, Maine. To catch you up to speed, in the past year I retired from my life in the airline world, got married, sold and gave away almost all my worldly possessions and moved across the country in order for us to follow our dreams. Those dreams that I speak of begin in Maine at a magical place called Green Lake. Oh, and don't worry if you are reading this and scratching your head with the question, "Why Maine? I can't believe you guys left Chicago and are in Maine." We have people say that to us ALL. THE. TIME!! That's OK, I completely understand how puzzling it may seem to everyone, but it doesn't to us.

But let me start off by saying this, following dreams involves a lot of hard work and determination. We arrived here three weeks ago, war torn from our move, exhausted, yet so happy to finally be starting. It's a good thing we had such a strong resolve to be here because immediately we were struck with obstacle after obstacle. It reminded me of a conversation I had with my brother, Ron. We were talking about "Struggle and Emerge," that is what life is made of.  There is the struggle, we wrestle with it for a time, fight with it, sit silently with it, expand our hearts until we quietly surrender and then finally emerge into a whole new space. It resonated with me, the struggle and fear of beginning again and I take comfort that I will once again emerge.

I've been going for long walks, drives, hikes and peaceful sits by the water so my heart could once again find it's footing. I would bring my camera with me and this is the footage I gathered during my times of deep wanderings. Nature has always had a way of recalibrating my heart. I call it my sanctuary. As I walk the forested paths, sit beside the crashing waves or look out onto the reflective waters; I feel completely welcome and accepted.

May your hearts be filled with peace as we all find a way to emerge from the struggle.



60 Years a Farmer This video was created to honor my Dad and his 60th year as a farmer. My Dad has taught me so much about life, dedication to family, hard work and God. I often draw upon the wisdom he has imparted into my life.

Farmers, they are some of the hardest working people I know. I have watched them work so hard for their livelihood and they do it with so much passion in their hearts. I am very proud of my family and my heritage.


Puffins The puffins. Well, it's no secret that I have a bit of an obsession with these funny clowns.  We traveled with a small tour group to Machias Seal Island off the coast of Maine this past July. We spent a total of two hours in covered bluffs watching the fun display put on by these sea birds. The video I made is only a small sampling of all that we saw, experienced and enjoyed. It's a day I'll never forget.

A Morning Meditation Perhaps I should have titled this "My Maine Meditation." A few days ago I awoke before sunrise. I could hear the birds beginning to sing. It was as if they were calling me to come and sit amidst their chorus of praise. The video I made plays like a quiet meditation, a prayer rising from the earth. The loons were calling out, the chipmunks were scampering all around me, the bugs were buzzing, the lake water was slowly lapping up on the shoreline and the crows were crooning their morning demands. I hope you enjoy the warm summer sounds of Maine.

Outside My Window

Outside my windowI've spent hours upon hours staring out these windows. This safe haven acted like a cocoon during the painful experience of my divorce. It's hard to believe that so many years have now passed. I had bought a small townhouse in a quaint suburb of Chicago and it was here that I began to chisel out a new life for myself. The back of my house overlooked a large field heavily lined with trees. I would watch the birds, listen for the coyotes and prayed the rabbits would stop eating my flowers. It was untamed and beautiful.  I would sit by these windows, day after day, just looking out at the trees and beyond into my future. The weeks grew into months, that grew into years and slowly I began noticing miracles taking place. I felt my heart opening up again and a whole new life emerged out of a tiny seed of hope. I am forever grateful for those tall trees that stood beside me. They seemed to not only hold me up, but they lifted me to high places. After I married Mike, I knew we had to put my townhouse up for sale and this past week we sold it. It has now become an oasis for another single woman. This photo is the final moments inside my home. I felt it needed documenting. The photo serves as a reminder to me of how I grew in the wilderness of pain and emerged into love. It's important to never forget where we come from and how far we have traveled.

I have been rather quiet lately. Perhaps it's conserving energy during the valley of change. I'm allowing myself to do whatever my heart needs. If I need to be quiet, I am allowing the reverence of stillness. If I need to write and document everything, then I will let the words flow and pray the articulation comes.  I'm walking the good path.


spring2One heart beat... two heart beats... three. That was the measure of time that it took the soft petals to hit the ground. Slowly wafting with wings, like butterflies floating in the air.  So much wonder held within this simple grace, this calming moment, this small space in time. spring4There comes a point when the bud can no longer remain closed. It will not be held back.  It risks everything as it opens itself to be seen.  Everything hidden, one day revealed. spring5Exquisite beauty is often found in the most unexpected corridors of life.  Moments that I would have never chosen for myself.  Is is destiny? Was it written in the stars? How did I stumble upon this holy alter? It seems that my story has been forever set before me. Because even through missteps and foibles  I always find my way to this place, this portal where the ointment of grace is generously poured. As I stand here I begin to understand that every paint stroke placed upon my canvas was masterful and precise. The dark shadows and deep shading allows the brightest light to be seen. In letting go, I became found. Just as the blossoms descend from the trees, it in no way marks the end, for in its place the strong leaves emerge and growth returns. One heartbeat...two heartbeats...three.spring


Listen (please click on the icon to view a short video clip I made) I found solace in this simple video. Perhaps it's because of the emotion I was feeling while filming it. I remember that it had been one of those "heavy lifting" days.  You know those days that demand all our attention and strength in order to free the burden. Our hearts were in need of some space, so we knew a trip to "the sanctuary" was in order.  Our sanctuary is found along the winding paths of a  forest preserve that is only a few miles from our house. It feels holier then any church has ever felt to me, the sacred paths carrying the imprints of a thousand souls.

Last evening as the sun began to soften and hang low, we came to the pond that we have walked past a hundred times before. Only this time, instead of walking past it, we sat and stared out at the mirrored reflection in reverence.  A hushed silence answering our human questions.

You may be wondering what it was I was listening for? Did I find answers for all I was seeking? Yes, I did. Not perhaps in so many words, but I felt a palpable peace in those glassy waters. I saw answers released from the thick silt that now floated to the surface.  The earths heart beat heard through tiny flapping  wings. The dormancy of winter breaking the ice dam of muted lips. The stark contrast of our constant state of flux. Entering and exiting. Beginnings and endings. What started as a blank canvas is now filled with a beautiful story. The interpretation of a heart that spills onto this emerging scene scape.

I think I'll sit for awhile longer to see what else I can hear.sunset1

Ice Castles

Some people build castles in the sand, other's carve them out of ice. Seeing what imagination can build. I am once again reminded that I am the only one that can ever hold myself back from living my full potential.  ice castle4I was instantly drawn to this photo of the icy pillar archway that looked through to a mountain backdrop. In that moment I could feel the symbolism of what it means to "walk through" the open door ahead of me. There are times in life that you "know that you know" you are doing the right thing in stepping forward, entering the threshold and moving past all the doubt of the past.banff9

I am taking solace today in knowing that I am exactly where I need to be. It's been a emotional week of dismantling my home that I owned on my own and getting it ready for sale. The thing about endings is that they always lead to new beginnings. I am happy to be moving forward in my life, it's just that there has been so much change that has happened in a short period of time.  I quit the security of my job after 17 years, I'm embarking on a new career of my own making, I got married and I am moving. Whew! It's a lot to take in and get used to, but I am embracing it.

I spent the day yesterday sorting through piles of old memories, pictures, stacks of magazines that for some reason I had been saving.  After a few hours of working on my place I sat on my living room floor and leaned against the wall. My house now sounding the cavernous echo of it's sterile empty walls. All that was me, now removed.  My heart felt heavy and dripping with my soggy tears.  I hadn't anticipated that this much emotion would be attached to leaving, but I always seem to underestimate how these things will actually feel.

Little by little I will keep moving forward.

banff15ice castle (3)These photos were taken at Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada


I do

i do2I've been looking out the window this morning in an attempt to quiet my mind. My thoughts are racing, I have a million things I need to do today. But first I'm going to sit for awhile, drink some coffee, breathe and start writing. I write when I'm stressed. I have no idea how it works but somehow divulging, purging and even coaxing these words from my heart lifts an enormous weight. So why all the stress? I'm getting married on Sunday. Yes, on Sunday, the Sunday that comes in 6 days from now! Gulp! Next week at this time all the wedding madness will be over. All the pretty little details I have been mulling over, second guessing and spending an inordinate amount of time putting together will be memories tucked away for safe keeping. When I break it down that way it helps me to not take it all too seriously. From the very beginning Mike and I have said that we could easily go to the courthouse wearing jeans and t-shirts to get married. No muss, no fuss, which I know Mike would have been very happy to do. But the girl inside of me, the one that had so many broken dreams and fractured pieces wanted, desired and needed to make beautiful memories. I guess you could say I wanted a fresh start, a do-over, a new beginning.  I'm not looking for the fairytale or have any crazy expectations. My expectations are always reserved. But quietly I dream of building a gentle and loving life together.  More then anything I am so utterly thankful for this second chance at love.

Mike wisely said to me today, "Lynne please don't be stressed about this week, just relax and enjoy all the fun adventures we will have with our families."

So here's to the week ahead and to all the memories we are about to make.

Oh, about the ring. For those of you that know me, you know that I love anything vintage. Perhaps it's because I love the stories behind the pieces, the history, the imperfections. This is a 125 year old Victorian ring. It is not perfect, it has scuffs and blemishes but it's beautiful and unique and I instantly fell in love with it the first time I saw it. Perhaps it's because it reminds me so much of us and our story, perfectly imperfect.



Facing the Storm

storm22 I found the horses huddled together behind some trees. They stood with their backs to the wind, motionless, as if in a meditative trance. There was no struggle in their quiet resilience. As I approached, they turned their heads to look at me. I found myself completely awe struck by their beauty. The icy snow had collected on their manes and faces, a shroud marking the struggle. Yet somehow with this mask of pain they looked exquisite, majestic and brave.

A big winter storm came thru in a relentless fashion. How ironic that just the day before the winds were soft, the temperatures gentle and the air was fresh and light. I guess that's why they call it, "The calm before the storm."  I awoke to howling winds that produced a icy snowfall with unrelenting  temperatures. I could't help but see the analogy that lay before me. Storms mirroring life.  One moment we sit in our sanctuary surrounded by strong towers of peace. Then in the next breath we find ourselves facing down the eye of the storm, slogging our way to survival.  The extremes within our human existence.  Somehow we always find a bluff of trees to stand behind as we hunker down and wait for the storms to pass. One thing I know for sure, the storm will pass, it will, it always leaves and the peace returns.

I believe it's instinctual for us to avoid pain, detour from storms and bypass the unpleasant. Yet it is during these times we find out what we are made of.  It seems that during desperate heartbreak a warm corridor of compassion opens up to us that we otherwise may never experience. As we face our deepest fears we develop strong muscles of bravery.  It is during our most vulnerable moments our greatest strengths are made known.  All this beauty found while in the midst of the harshest conditions of life. It would seem a magic elixir, a truth revealer is unveiled during the struggle. The abrasive turmoil shines our dull and smooths our fragmented parts, exposing us to the light. Some people can only see the pain and suffering while others find beauty in the midst of the storm.storm111

storm44 storm55 storm33storm66

A Rainbow in the Night

icebow3I attended the funeral of a very dear friend. Loss...

Another person gone too soon, vanished before our eyes. Why? Why do things happen out of sequence, out of order, before their time? I was told that it is best to never ask the question why, it is something that can never be answered in this life. Perhaps that’s why I feel compelled to ask even more questions. Why are the answers locked away and hidden? Will we ever know why? Perhaps. It seems that the line that is drawn out to longevity answers such ponderings. The distance of time brings with it a level of clarity.icebow2


Time has a way of flushing our wounds, airing our grief and lifting our fallen hearts.

These photographs feel very meaningful to me. At midnight I looked outside and saw a luminescent halo circling the moon. It was glorious. Surely it must be a sign from the heavens, for it illuminated the night sky and allowed my eyes to see into infinity. The hidden, revealed. A rainbow in the night. There is a technical reason for the halo, it is light refracting off ice crystals which creates this phenomenon, also known as an "Icebow”. But it felt like so much more. It felt like answers, a lullaby being sung, a hush to soothe the tears. Most of all it was a reminder that even during our darkest nights there is still light and hope to guide us.icebow1

Drawing Inspiration

How is it possible that one person finds the answers to a thousand questions while looking at a single blade of grass? Another person walks by and sees nothing at all.inspirationIs it a veil that lifts that allows for clarity? How does one travel through elaborate paths to reach such poetic conclusions? These are questions that I ponder, reach for, mull over.

I was recently contacted by my dear friend John. He asked if I would kindly look over a poem he had written and let him know what I thought about it. It’s very honoring when someone allows you to see a piece of their soul through their writings. Every time one of my photos or writings is shown publicly it makes me feel so vulnerable because my work is a intricate part of who I am and it’s not easy allowing people into your private galleries.

When John approached me with his poem, I couldn’t help but want to find out the story behind his writing.

Here’s an excerpt of the dialogue that ensued between us.


John: I wrote this poem on Christmas morning. It is a poem about origins, it is based on science and biblical and pagan mythology.

Me: John, you have one of the most brilliant and intricate minds I have ever met. I am so intrigued by your thoughts, the way you decipher and decode the world around you. That's a true gift and I love that you want to share that. Remember us talking about art/writing having a "vibration" to it and as I read your poem I could feel that special vibe that is unique only to you. I am intrigued, tell me more about your poem. By that I mean, What were you feeling at the time you were writing it? Did your words come all at once or was it something that was difficult to process? What I am most curious about is, what was going through your mind as you were writing? When I write I always have a theme or "vision" that I am drawing from as the source that drives the subject. tell me more.

John: So basically when I started writing, I intended to write a poem about an experience I had in a forest on Halloween. Crazy I know. But as I wrote all the words just flowed from my mind, it took about 20 min to write. What was I feeling? I can't remember...but origins fascinate me, so perhaps I was feeling fascinated? Sometime when I write I feel nothing at all, it just flows.

Me: Our conversation has me off on a tangent. That's how creativity works in me. I often start off with a blank slate and then suddenly a thought pops up and I begin in a direction. But even within a specific direction there are detours and the end result can often turn into something completely different then what I had originally started with. Just as you started with Halloween and ended with Christmas. I love detours, I am always in awe of the creative mind and it's many facets and avenues. I have been reading John Steinbeck recently. Steinbeck's words flow so effortlessly and I find myself intrigued by his mood, emotions and ability to articulate in such a way that provokes my mind and heart. As I read his writings I keep wondering, What was he thinking? Where does he draw from? How is he able to articulate what he feels so eloquently? That's why I asked you those questions, it is always something that I am curious about.

John gave me permission to post his poem in my blog. I know you will enjoy the writings of John Evrett.

-------------------- The smell of pine so fine I pace with fright Your face fills me with flight You feel I reel

Fight or flight? Pace or face? Eyes flounder and wonder Like primitive past

Does your fair voice Make my hair stand?

Shocked by falling rocks Like pyre aflame Round he found you Swirled and twirled Gigantic clouds Your nursery A sheath like a wreath he placed round you. To protect, from star afar.

Your circuit Is the worship of your creator Pace yourself His face ever before you. At Neptune's gaze Seas rage under the pages of heaven Come here, no further To this shall your waves rise

Swaddled like a baby with bands of deep darkness and fog

The day gloom fumes I fawn after the dawn Sunrise with Rays that lay Across the page of heaven Struck with wrought I fought At the command of Mars Wars march forward. Filled with fury Earth floods with blood

Bring him, O earth the treasures of your hearth. Mine your heart Fine gold from your soul. Let the seeds flirt with dirt. Bring your green treasure.

Here we stand, gazing above Walk to the fine line. Be Ye not foreign to your origin.

~ By John Evrett

A Season of Change

unitedThe New Year has brought about so much change. After many years as a flight attendant, I retired last week. Change...even when it's welcome, it's not easy.  I had known for a long time that I needed to leave my career "In the Friendly Skies," but when the day finally approached I was completely taken off guard by these deep emotions that were waiting for me. I have run the full gamut of feelings.  From elation to foreboding, relief to sadness, welcoming gains yet suffering loss. Perhaps this is just what change feels like. After all, can anybody really warn you about such things? Or perhaps I was warned but I wasn't really listening. Humans by nature don't like change. I read some words this past week that best describe my situation. To paraphrase, "Change does not take time, it's instant. It's getting ready for the change to take place is what takes so long." Nothing lasts forever,  I will one day find solace in this discomfort.owl As has been the case so often lately, it's the middle of the night and I've once again lost my battle to find sleep.  The constant tossing and turning, reshuffling, tossing, turning, shuffling... I finally stopped, got out of bed and stumbled down the stairs to my living room. The clock reads 1:45am. I am currently curled under a warm blanket. Outside my window I can hear two owls calling out to each other on this cold black night. One owl is close by me and the other I can hear out in the distance. On and on the two continually call out to one another.  Their sounds ring out as a chant, tapping out my morse code longings to the heavens.  A distressed ship to shore  signals my hearts cry, "Please show me the way, light the path Dear Lord and keep my feet from falling." I quiet my breathing to listen for the reply from my safe harbour.  I hear it,  the beautiful echo that puts my longings and questions at ease.  I am once again reassured that I am exactly where I need to be, I am on the good path and the light will be there to guide me through the thickest night. I am in exactly the right spot.

Oh my sweet owls as you sit perched outside my window. I thank you. On and on they continue to call back and forth without ceasing. Just as it is for my soul that calls into the distance. I am reminded that there will always be a reply.

Leap of Faith

3am. I wake and feel startled. my throat feeling the familiar strain that only stress can bring. Restricted vocal chords, a tight air supply, my heavy chains are once  again dragging. It's a fine balance between sounding mad and whiny yet exposing my hearts reality. This is a snapshot of what my world has felt like for a long time. But I’m making changes. Big changes. Life altering kinds of change (more on that in upcoming posts). I was recently involved in a workshop and my instructor asked me to photograph and write about my greatest fear. I had to think about it for awhile. So much to choose from. Fears, who doesn't have them?! Should I start by photographing myself on a high ladder to show my fear of falling? My recurring nightmare that I am back in elementary school and the only clothes I have are a pair of pajamas and everyone is staring at me. Oh, and here's a good one, the dream where all my teeth fall out. As you can see, the ideas were a rollin' in. But when I actually sat down to write, a whole other part of me spilled out.  Here I was,  face to face with some of my greatest unspoken fears. This is what I posted for my assignment.

Greatest Fear


Perhaps my greatest fear is being alone, yet when I'm surrounded by people I need to be alone. I live in a virtual tug of war of push pull, of getting  close yet keeping distant. Do I need to stand alone or is it better to be held? Do I want my cup filled or emptied to quench this impossible thirst? I'm opinionated, but silent. The peacemaker that hides the hell raiser. A vow keeper, a trusted true with stab wounds in my back. But I continue to trust, i must trust, I keep trust marching on.  What if I never find my courage? What if I keep doing what makes others happy without filling my own need? Will I die by being strangled in my own safety harness? My greatest fear is that I will never come out from the shadows and let myself be seen, known or heard for who I really am.


Isn't it amazing that in a few short words someone can speak into your life such soul rich words.  Here is my instructors response.

This totally hit me in the guts:

Will I die by being strangled in my own safety harness?

The answer, is yes. Not just you, but me, and everyone.  We choke on all of the words we want to say. We get chronic pain from all of the secrets we absorb, calcifying. Our hearts break and our wells run dry. But. The good news is, at any time we can step out of the harness. There are no knots, no locks, no cages. At any moment, we are free. You are brave. Repeat 100x tomorrow “I am brave. I am free. I am alive."


For the next several days I found myself repeating over and over, “I am brave. I am free. I am alive.” “I am brave. I am free. I am alive.” "I am brave. I am free. I am alive.” Then more words came. “I am acceptable. I am loved. I matter.” “I am capable of great things. My stuck words will be free. I can capture beauty.” “I will let myself be loved and cherished." " I will open my wings and soar with the wind. Soar really high, high into the sky, up and up.” My chant was reaching the heavens and it was unraveling this heavily woven tapestry that represented my chains.  I felt myself step out of my safety harness, that "safety net" that was choking the life force out of me. Ya, that thing, I walked away from it. 

Sometimes you just have a take a bold leap of faith.


Wichita Lineman

I went for a long walk today in an effort to clear my head. I was listening to music through my headphones when suddenly a random song came on that made my knees buckle. "Wichita Lineman" by Glen Campbell. Oh that song.

All at once I am 6 years old running around with pigtails, no front teeth and scraped knees. It's a warm summer day and I am giddy with excitement. I'm looking over at my Dad in his mid 30's and suddenly my heart aches for those days. This song, the melodic croon of his voice, the era, it just catapults me back. How is it possible that these tiny shards of memory can cut into this present moment and pull me through such deep portals of yesteryear? I don't know how it happens, but it's very real in it's raw beauty. So many sweet compilations lining my soul.

When I was 15 my Grandmother passed away in the fall of that year. Months later in the spring I came home from school one day to find my mother sitting deep in emotion. She said to me, "Today I had such strong memories from when I was a little girl, I feel so homesick for that time." I think the spring thaw had triggered her. As I listened to her talk I could see her eyes were reviewing the details of her own little girl world and her heart was left wanting. I didn't understand it all then, but I sure do now.

I think that's why I like being surrounded by so many photos and vintage pieces from my family. Perhaps I'm trying to hold on to a time and space that no longer exists in the present but is fully alive in my heart.

The irony of this story is that Glen Campbell is suffering the deep throws of Alzheimer's. His music leads me to my memories while his mind is quickly loosing grip of his own.

Kelsea and Jeremiah

Let me introduce you to Kelsea and Jeremiah. kelsandjer12Kelsea is my beautiful niece and Jeremiah is her handsome husband. I guess that makes Jeremiah my nephew in law. By the way, is there such a thing as a nephew in law? Anyway, I am so completely honored that they invited me into their home so I could capture these tender moments before the grand arrival of their first baby. I loved listening to their giddy excitement and great sense of wonder for the days ahead.  Seeing Jeremiah's face light up as he said, "I can't wait to see the baby and see who she looks like." Oh the sweetness of it all!!! I arrived at Kelsea and Jeremiah's home late Saturday afternoon during the final moments of Sabbath. I asked their permission if I could capture their closing ceremony of Sabbath and the ushering in of the new week. There is a lot of new beginnings about to unfold for these two and I couldn't help but notice the symbolisms between this ceremony and the arrival of their new baby. Endings followed by new beginnings. Just as the sun sets, a new moon rises.

What a special time we shared together. We, or rather I, kept liberally using the word "magic" to describe our photoshoot.  But that's exactly what it was, MAGIC, followed by heaping helpings of love and so much goodness. These photos just make me smile. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

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Stargazer Way

Stargazer I recently came across this street sign “Stargazer Way”, what a perfect name. If I could name the street I live on, this would be it.

I grew up on a farm along the open prairies of Canada. Visitors are often awestruck by the sheer flatness of it all. It’s a, far as the eye can see, wide open spaces, flat as a pancake sort of place. It is often the brunt of a lot of jokes, yet as we say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Isn't life all about perspective and how you choose to view it? When I "slant" the picture of these prairie lands I become filled with wonder. Because let me tell you, this place has one of the most majestic views of the sky and stars at night. The sunrise and sunsets take my breath away and if that weren’t enough the Northern Lights come and dance above us. I can often be found sitting under this magic show, breathlessly taking it all in. I find such solace during the pitch of night when the moon and stars swallow the darkness whole.











Memory Keeper

beijing1We stood at the edge of summer as we held the last glimpse of the setting sun. We were up in the Canadian Rockies overlooking the city of Banff. The views were stunning, the scent of pine so heady as it drew me into a meditative state. I looked over at Mike and said, “This is so beautiful, I can’t believe I don’t have my camera with me to capture all of this.” I’ll never forget his response, “You don’t need a camera, take a good look and soak in what you are seeing, take a snapshot with your mind, it will now be with you forever.”  We stood quietly for a few moments, taking in this decadent scene drenched with emotion. The image now etched inside of me. It is one of my all time favorite memory files that I draw from whenever I feel the need. I don’t look at it that often, but whenever I do all the same feelings and views come rushing back and I find myself once again standing on that mountainside watching the setting sun. I carry so many of these snap shots inside of me. In many ways they hold more treasure and value then my tangible photos. In my memory I can hear the sounds, smell the fragrance in the air, feel the temperature, the vulnerability, the heartbeat of it all. I sat quietly this morning as I dusted off some of these old memory files. I was quite surprised at the flood of emotion that came spilling out with very little prompting. It was a "life flashing before my eyes" sort of moment, but in a good way. All at once my 5 year old self was standing beside my Memere (Grandmother) as she let me help her bake peanut butter cookies, iceskating on a frozen pond and drinking hot chocolate, crying in first grade because I wanted to go home, riding on the tractor with my Dad and him looking me in the eyes and him telling me how much he loved me, the first time I saw the NY City skyline at night, The green grass of Holland, the lace on my dress, seeing Mike for the first time as he walked by me holding a pizza, my grandmothers wedding band that was so big on her thin aged fingers, looking into my Mother’s eyes after leaving my Aunt’s funeral and her saying, “I have now buried each one of my family members.” Oh, I could go on and on. If I were to see these photos in tangible imagery the depth would be lost. Our memories, these clips of time make up a powerful part of who we are. As my mother recently said to me, “After we lose someone we love, our memories are all we have left of them.” That is so true. Having lost friends and family members recently I often find myself replaying the sound of their voice, remembering the way they laughed, recounting the smallest moments and the minutest details. Holding tightly to the memories for a chance to once again experience their essence. As I sit and write my heart is deep with emotion. This is where my treasure is.