And just like that.....

Summer is here. Just like that.

For us, it isn't marked on a calendar or a clock. It isn't measured by the moon or the sun or the tilt of the earth. It arrives the day we drop our schedules and routines for something looser and a little more free. It arrives on a Tuesday at 5:37PM, when we are tired of homework and supper routines and classes and deadlines. It happens when we throw caution to the wind and finally sigh under our breath, "Summer is here. It's finally here."

Welcome back, Summer. I can't wait to float around gently and purposeless in your wake.

Dear Mom.

There is nothing I can say today that I haven't already said over the years. The days get easier as time moves on. We are slowly healing from the wounds that were left after you were gone...but those deep wounds and holes of emptiness get filled with things that aren't real.

The days still come. Swiftly at first. And then less so. But they come whether we want them to or not, whether we expect them or not. We just know how to navigate through the choppy waters a little better now.

Every day I miss something about you...both of you. I can't express in words what it's like to live on a planet without you. Suddenly, I am aware of being exposed and completely alone - naked on a boat in the middle of the ocean with no oars and no land in sight. It feels uncomfortable and so unfamiliar.

You look for ways to make it more comfortable...more tolerable. But soon you realize that nothing works to heal it. It just "is." You have to go through it now. You just have to paddle somehow with what you have and get to the other side.

I have been paddling for 9 years. Nine. That's a long time. But today, instead of resting, I will keep paddling. I will keep moving towards something...towards a shoreline of something bigger than me. And in it, I will try to enjoy the adventure. Embrace the unknown.  I will use everything you gave me and taught me and showed me and said to me as a compass...a guiding light to bring me home.

Foraging

Foraging from our backyard loquat tree

He's cooperating, but very unsure.

I spent my summers slightly sunburned, running around outside in the fresh air, chasing fireflies, and picking perfectly ripened blackberries for my mom behind the watertower at the top of the mountain. We never heard the word foraging. We just did it. I lived in a neighborhood edged with forests and farms, so foraging for wild berries and wildly growing culinary treats just sort of happened.

When we moved to the south during my teen years, everything was different. We lived on a barrier island on the coast of South Carolina that looked more like a lush, tropical forest than the woodlands and farms I was used to. Everything looked exotic and exciting. And a little bit poisonous. And honestly, as a teen, I had better things to learn than what was yard berry was edible and what I should fear. So I stayed away from most things thinking I would suddenly die upon ingestion. 

As the years passed, I found myself longing for those blackberry bushes I foraged in my youth. For some reason, they seemed like a treasure that nobody knew about for years but us...like our own secret garden right up the road. It was a treat saved for a few short weeks every year. And although I loved eating the plump berries right off the bush, my pudgy fingers stained purple from their juices, I was always excited to bring them home to my mom to see what magic she would make with them - cobbler, pie, preserves. It was the stuff dreams were made of. 

Somehow this unfamiliar territory made foraged foods seem harder to come by in South Carolina. But as I learned more about the culinary south, I realized there was a whole slew of foods at my disposal right here in my own backyard. I moved into my current house about 11 years ago. On that day, I noticed a bush dripping with what looked like tiny apricots against a backdrop of fuchsia azalea blooms . Golden yellow in color, I had seen these bushes around the south for years. Little did I know I had a loquat tree right in my own back yard. The very start to my own little backyard farm.

This year is my first year harvesting these babies. They are tart and juicy and have a great texture - sort of peachy. So we will be experimenting with drinks, preserves, foods and maybe even a desert or 2 over the next few weeks before our quickly ripening bush goes to the hungry wildlife of the neighborhood.

I can hardly wait to see what goodness comes out of it all!

EAT YOUR GREENS

EAT YOUR GREENS!!!!

(I guess he listened.)

In other news - this guy is the greatest!

Brunch at Indaco

I recently went to brunch at Indaco, with the always lovely Andrea from Charleston Shop Curator, and her adorable family for a special feature on her blog. To say that the food was tremendous would be an understatement. To say that we ate like kings for a day would be more than a grand understatement as well. It was, without a doubt, one of the best meals I have had in a while.

Charleston is brimming with restaurant options these days, so brunch can be a hard choice in a city filled with delicious options. But this gem did not disappoint in any way. Not only were we seated immediately, but the service was perfectly timed. And the food....AAAGGGHHH!!! The FOOD! So good! We powered through Patatas Bravas (the best thing we ate), Milk and Honey (perhaps the best ricotta I have ever tasted), Breakfast Pizza (eggs on pizza for the WIN), Nutella Pizza, the Chorizo dish and Eggs Al Forno (I die), washed down with a slow gin fizz and a bloody mary (spicy and delicious). Not a bad way to end the weekend.

If you are in Charleston, don't walk... RUN to this brunch. The food was incredible, and the staff could not have been more accommodating to our eccentric group of diners - not to mention me snapping photos of every dish that came out. It couldn't have been a better experience.

Indaco is on Upper King Street and is open for brunch on Sundays.

The balance of Christmas.

We live a humble Christmas here. There aren't many of us and I would much rather have a trip or an experience than a gift any day. Don't get me wrong....there are plenty of material gifts given to my son and other friends and family. But Christmas morning isn't the over-the-top extravaganza I grew up with.

This year, I struggled a bit with the expectations of the holiday. I wondered if it was enough. I worried about the gifts I gave - were they nice enough? Would they be liked? Would everyone be satisfied with their bounty? After setting everything out under the tree in the wee hours of the morning, I looked at the scarcity of boxes and thought about other homes overflowing with everything they could ever need and want...and then some. I took a photo of the sweet silence you experience after it's all done - tree gently lit, presents thoughtfully placed, stillness all around. Like many of my friends, I posted the photo to my personal Facebook account wishing everyone joy and peace and love. The first comment that came was about the amount of gifts (or lack thereof). Meant to be more of a wish for them rather than an insult to me (they have 3 kids, I have one), it was still extraordinarily humbling.

Immediately, I went into a tailspin of inadequacy and panic. Putting the brakes on that mental conversation was difficult, but somehow I managed to stop myself. My son had everything on his list. Every item had been purchased by me. Every. Single. Thing. Not to mention his 24 day advent calendar - filled with little treasures and special Christmas activities for us to do together. Feeding the Birds on the Winter Solstice. Going to the county park to look at the Christmas lights. Baking cookies. Eating breakfast for dinner. Game night. Favorite movie night. Donating to those in need. I had made our Christmas as special as I could while honoring the season.

Honoring the season isn't really that hard if you think about it. This is the season of love. The season of giving - not of gifts, but of ourselves. It's the season of extraordinary faith - where we love whole-heartedly those things we can't see and believe in things we can only hope for in our hearts. It's the season of time well spent and moments of caring. It has nothing to do with the boxes, bows or bags. This is a hard lesson to remember in our hyper-materialistic, I-want-it-now culture. And it's even harder to learn when your holiday was paved with those material rewards. What I really wanted growing up was to bake cookies with my mom - not get scolded for eating them before Christmas morning. All I ever really wanted was to go sledding and decorate our gorgeous home and look at all the magical Christmas lights around the town we grew up in.... and yet, at the same time, I wanted the stuff. So I recognize the precarious balance of Christmas with a child.

This balance - this internal struggle - will always be there for me. Always. It's a balance between giving and receiving. A balance between gracious and humble. A balance between love and faith. There are so many lessons in this magical season - whether you celebrate it or not. Mostly to me, it's a great time to pause and remember the magic of what it means to give all of yourself to something through nothing but faith, hope and love.

Whatever you parts of the season you leaned into, I hope you celebrated big, enjoyed a feast, and found some light and love this holiday. Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays.

Give Thanks. Show Gratitude.

This is the season of gratitude. It's a celebration of all the things we have in our lives to be grateful for - big and small, bad and good, easy and difficult. 

As much as I try to show and celebrate thankfulness and gratitude every day, I count Thanksgiving week as the reset on this essential part of living a whole and fulfilling life. It's a good time to sit back and reflect on all the things that have happened, regardless of their nature - both bad and good, happy and sad. It's like an emotional hip-check on thankfulness and a gentle reminder that things we have to be grateful for come in all different shapes and sizes.

This sweet pause this week is something I don't take for granted as we swiftly slide into the season of abundance and love. I think Thanksgiving fits nicely with the the coming Holidays, becoming a reminder to not give without love or receive without gratitude.

So today I give thanks, for all the things in my life - the lessons, the life and the love. I am thankful for family and friends, the work I get to do, and the life I get to live. It's all part of what makes me who I am and all part of what has put me on the path to what I want to do with this one sweet life.

And to all of you who support, love and motivate me in all parts of my life...Thank you. I am forever grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Remember this...

Happy 1st Birthday, Baby Sam!

Remember this.

Every day is important. Each and every moment is significant - the small ones and the big ones. Don't forget that. Document what you can. And print your memories. Save them. Treasure them and keep them close. Because in a blink of an eye those babies are celebrating their first birthday. Or in 3rd grade. Or thirteen going on thirty. And you have no idea how you got here. You have no concept of how to keep up with them and stop time from slipping through your fingers. It's like holding water in your open hands.

If you asked me - even before I was a professional photographer - I would have told you the same thing I would tell you today: take those photos, print them out, save them, and honor them like the priceless treasures they are. That way, when you can't remember what silly face they made when they were 2 or the way their sweet lips looked curiously, the photos will at least give you some way of finding that memory you tucked away for all those years ago.

So capture it all. Those precious first days of school. Homework in February. Celebratory swim meets. Ordinary afternoons. They are all significant.

They are all worth remembering.

Too much of the cute.

I just can't....I cant handle this much cute.

These legs...and the wrists. And her little nose and sweet smile....

I die.

Throwback

I took this photo towards the beginning of the summer. My son came with me on a family shoot I had scheduled weeks prior and the weather was too nice to leave him at home - even though he wasn't super interested in coming with me.

I love stumbling across photos you forgot about...old ones and new ones. It sharpens the memories a little more so they aren't lost in the back of my mind as I shop for groceries or schedule vet appointments. These overlooked little gems are like tiny diamonds, once again cutting open that forgotten pathway to my heart.

Looking back at this photo, I can almost smell the ocean. I can feel the humid evening wind as it gently tousles his hair to and fro. I can remember the milky light that evening and the warmth of the sea. It all just comes back - melting into one memory and sealing it's way into my heart once again.

Thirteen

Here we are again...another year has gone, tucked away into our memories now. Hidden behind Christmases, vacations and birthdays and beachtrips. These days that pass often seem so long when we are in the middle of them while life steals precious seconds away from us. But our years together seem much too short for my aching heart as I watch you change overnight these days.

You are 13 now. Thirteen. Well on your way to becoming a man. No longer the little baby I held so close all those terribly short and fleeting years.

Where did it all go? It slipped by us in a flash, didn't it?  Karate lessons, school projects and carpool have given way to the young man I am looking at everyday now. Years slip by too quickly. But they have yielded a lovely and empathetic boy who is growing and already taller than me. It doesn't seem possible. This is never what I imagined. Yet, here we are. At thirteen.

I am not sure where we go from here. I am not sure what the next years look like. I fear the speed will start to pick up at a pace I cannot keep up with. Soon, college will be looming and I will not know what happened to these sweet, long days filled with cartoons and and too many screens. I will wonder why I didn't drag you kicking and screaming to the beach to watch more sunsets and let the warm waves wash over us. I will wonder how I have known you for so long, yet is seems like yesterday they handed me the chunky little baby who didn't look at all like a newborn in that hospital room all those years ago. Thirteen years ago.

Thirteen is new territory. It marks a definite change in things...in you. No longer a little boy. But yet not quite grown up. I stand here clinging to the past, yet so excited to see what the future holds for you. I know it will be filled with love and joy and strength - just as you are.

I hope this world doesn't change you too much. I hope you remember to stay as you are -  strong yet soft, curious and cautious, big with the knowledge of how small you really are in the grand scheme of it all. Mostly, I hope you remember all these wonderful gifts you have carried since birth. You have so many gifts - and they are far too big for wrappings and bows. They are real. They are what counts.

Today, I wish for you to blow out the candles on your cake and dream big. Make it count. And don't let anyone tell you that you can't have those dreams - not even me. Especially not me! I am sure I will do it. We parents make silly mistakes. We have our fears and beliefs. And we try to protect you from them as well. But those dreams are yours. Own them! They are real. Today is the day to start believing that. Today is the day to start believing in yourself even more than you ever have before. Because you are going to do great things. You are capable of anything.

Remember that I love you. There are 13 years between us on this planet, but an endless amount of years I have known you in my heart. And everyday, that love grows impossibly and exponentially bigger.

Happy Birthday, Graham. I am looking forward to every single long day and short year ahead.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

A photo of my dad - taken 12 years ago today.

It never gets easier. The hole is always there, waiting to be opened up again. It's all at the surface - or just below - waiting for me to trip across some memory. Waiting for me to remember how many days, weeks, months, years it's all been since we last held hands...since you last called me "Love."

Years. How can it be years?

It is though....long days yield their way to short years. And it still all feels so fresh.

But today - today we celebrate. Because if it wasn't for you, none of us would be here. Not these babies you held in your lap so proudly. Not me. Not my sweet house on a quiet street with the light fixture we wrestled with that hot afternoon that still hangs over the table - just a little dustier now. The memories wouldn't be here of swims in the warm, southern ocean or grilled fish in the evening sunlight in the sweet house by the sea.

Without you, I wouldn't care about golf or tennis. I wouldn't have memories of roller coasters or road trips. I wouldn't know about puzzles or checkers or cards or counting change from the dryer. Toasting bread in the fire on those long, northern winter nights never would have happened. And I never would have learned how to sled or shovel snow or cuss like a sailor when I stubbed my big toe.

Who would have taught me to ride a bike or swim or sing silly songs in the late afternoon light. Who would have tucked me in safe to bed each night when I was always wanting to stay up just a few more minutes. And who ever would I have loved as much as all the stars in the sky and grains of sand in the ocean?

So today, I rejoice in you, Dad. I remember the good and not the bad. I remember the joyful and the sad. We had such great times together - so much time I am grateful for.  I only wish we could have carried on that party a little bit longer, just a little bit later into the night...just a few more minutes.

Happy Birthday, Dad. I miss you ever so much.

Memory

Yesterday we went for a ride. It wasn't long. Or significant. It was just...different. We don't have a great neighborhood for biking and exploring. It's rather small and bordered by some busy streets which makes it hard for us to explore the rest of the surrounding areas. So I love getting out of here and doing something a little new. So yesterday, I decided we needed to ride bikes through the local county park for a change of scenery.

I haven't been doing nearly enough of this over the course of this summer...or even my life. And the older He gets, the more out of reach it all feels. But these days are fleeting. I have realized that more this summer than ever before. I can feel it coming like a summer storm over the horizon. He is getting older. Changing daily. He is becoming more and more weary of my company - as teenagers do. But I persist and demand...because I can. After all, this is part of the growing process, isn't it?

So while I struggled to push the pedals around on my rental with low tires, I watched him glide effortlessly in front of me, pointing to flora and fauna, asking questions, remarking on things, and speaking of things 13 year-old boys speak of. And I watched and listened and responded when I could. And struggled along behind, trying to keep up with him - as I feel will be the theme over the next 5 years. 

So now, the memory is there. It's permanent and locked away in my heart. Nothing can take it away. I may not remember the details surrounding it all. But I will remember the feeling I have today - happy I had a few more moments to steal. Happy to spend time with the one I love the most. Happy to be forever his momma - no matter what path life takes us down.

Baby Love

Baby love. On the beach.

Sweet, sweet baby love. This shoot with Monica and her sweet family seems surreal in a way. I knew her when we were both single, young professionals and our lives were much, much different. Now here we are, years later, with kids of our own and families to take care of. It seems like a lifetime has gone by in a few short years.

Lucky for both of us, it's a lifetime of love and memories.

I see the World.

I see the World right here. It stops and I am paralyzed for a moment.

I see lost treasures and hidden coves with magic inside. I see undiscovered places and healing hearts not longing or wanting for anything at all in the world. Mostly, I see love and a belonging that is unparalleled.

My hope for us all is this - to simply see beauty and love and kindness in as many places as we can. And then, when we can't see it, we have to make it for ourselves and share it with the world.

Create love. And share it. Isn't it that simple?

Beach Days

Tousled beach hair. Prickly, sticky, salty air. Twisty wind and choppy waves.

We are definitely in the thick of summer's beachy days.

Learning to fly

I recently posted this photo of my boy on my personal Facebook page. It got some unusual attention from friends and family alike - not because it's a particularly good photograph, but perhaps because of the caption I wrote with it:

"My heart. Just roaming this planet. All exposed to the elements and the cruelty and the joys of life. With no protective gear. Just some love from his momma. I do love him ever so much."

I think this resonates with all of us, doesn't it.

To me, parenting is a lot like watching my heart roam naked around the planet. All the vulnerability we have is exposed to the elements - joy, pain, fear, frustration, love -  walking around with nothing to protect them. That's how it feels to be this person's mother.

When they are little it's easier. They stay closer. And the problems are more clear cut: I'm hungry. I'm tired. I'm wet. I'm frustrated. But as they grow and learn and start to spread their wings and fly, the issues life deals them aren't so black and white. Problems become more complicated. The topography of life changes - the dips in the road, the twists and turns, the mountains to climb...they are all there. And all you can do for them is sit and watch and hope you have done a good job at giving them a half-way decent road map to all of it.

As my son ages, the complexity of parenthood becomes more and more apparent. Gone are the days of kissing boo boos away, wiping the tears and giving him a Popsicle to forget his troubles. There are no more easy distractions from frustrations, pain or hurt. He is just there. Exposed to it all.

And learning to fly on his own.

Support Staff

Our cat, Fez (or Mrs. Fezziwig if we are being formal) has taken up residence on my desk for her daytime naps now (mmmhmmmm...it's super convenient). I am not gonna lie. I feel a little hijacked by her constant watch and grooming schedule. She keeps one eye and 2 ears on me all day - sleeping while I type, napping while I design, watching while I edit photos or write. If I get up, she is very aware of my movements. She seems intent on being close, which make me wonder what is happening in that tiny body. Is it her advanced age that makes her need to be near me? Is it her way of making peace with me for peeing on my curtains? Or is it her way of making sure no food opportunity gets by her? Regardless, she is staying uncomfortably close these days.

I am fascinated by what brings creatures the comfort they seek. As I type, my Golden Retriever sits a yard away. The cat is sleeping peacefully by my left hand. Our black mix dog, Sasha, sits by my right foot. None of the spots look particularly comfortable. But they are all within immediate view of me. I am their person. I bring them food, water, access to the Great Outdoors, adventure, treats and everything in between. They seem to love being as close as possible at most times of the day.

I supposed I get the same comfort from them, too. I listen to them sigh, pat them on the head as I walk by them, and offer them words of kindness and praise when I can. Maybe, in a way, I am offering this to myself as much as anyone. Could it be that it's me who is getting the comfort from them while they diligently do their jobs keeping watch? Perhaps they know my needs more than I really do.

So I guess it's not so bad after all having a napper at my left and two on my right throughout the long days at my desk. It's probably what I needed all this time to get through these longer days - a little extra encouragement and a little more love to make it through editing, designing, writing and facebooking  with a little extra support by my side.

Time for Summer

Time to sleep in and catch up. Time to stay up late and sleep in even later. Time to soak up the sunshine, let the wind blow our wild hair and smell the salty air for a few minutes more.

Time to read a book, eat some ice cream, watch a movie, and sleep in later than I should. Time for more sunsets on the beach with wine and warm water, laughter and love. Time for doing a little bit of nothing and a lot of everything.

Time for rest.

It's time for Summer.

Just as it should be

Just two 12 year old boys, doing 12 year old boy things.

I think we put a lot of pressure on kids these days. It seems to come from all directions too. There is pressure to get good grades, be great athletes, have loads of interests beyond the ordinary kids things, and be responsibly on their path to adulthood. It seems like we expect a great deal from them and leave little wiggle room for error from these learning, growing bodies and minds. They are expected to know so much at the young age of 12 and be able to self-regulate more than I ever remember doing at that age.

I have a very easy going boy who hasn't been hard to parent over these past 12 years. He hasn't needed much punishment. He follows most rules (I mean...he's 12...so, we are bound to break a few). And for the most part, he does what he is supposed to do.

When he has a misstep, I usually become overly frustrated with him. It's so out of character that I tend to probably react beyond what I should. I think this is in part to his easy nature coupled with the fact that he is physically larger than most children his age (he looks me eye to eye now and we haven't even started the real growing yet). I am always quick to assume he is beyond his years because of this, and as a result, typically forget in the moment that he is, after all, still just 12.

Twelve is a precarious age. His body is growing faster that you can say "GROWTH SPURT." But his mind is often still stuck in that little boy age - the age of nerf wars and yu-gi-oh card games. This age is a walking contradiction. The moodiness and boundary pushing are all part of the net result of the contrast between their growing bodies and their still underdeveloped little minds. Sure, hormones play a role in this, but I think this contrast and internal struggle are as much to blame for those epic moods I have been seeing these days.

While I am so excited to see what the world has to offer Graham and what Graham has to offer the world, I really still enjoy these moments that he is just a regular, ordinary, twelve year old boy - playing video games, making little inventions and having nerf wars with his buddies in the neighborhood.  I treasure this sweet time with him and never take these small moments for granted. There is a whole lifetime ahead of him to meet deadlines and worry about the future that I am happy to take that burden away from him for a little while. Don't get me wrong...I still am helping him become a responsible person - we meet school deadlines and requirements, have a black belt in karate and chores he tends to around the house. I just think for a while that he needs to just be here in this space.