Bracing for impact.

I took the above photo on a shoot I got to do less than a week ago when the weather was sunny, warm and 75 balmy degrees still in November. Today - a mere 6 days later - the temperature are going to struggle to get out of the 40s. The world is a flutter with the polar vortex that has hit us hard, even in the south where the world "polar" isn't something you ever expect to hear unless you are speaking of an exhibit of bears at a regional zoo.

What strikes me as funny is that these dramatic changes occur daily. Often, there are huge shifts - in temperature, in moods, in sand patterns on the shore, and in behavior. Most likely, we know these changes are coming. But regardless of how prepared we are, we all still seem a little shocked and surprised when change really hits.

Maybe it's because change is uncomfortable in all it's definitions. It pushes us out of that cozy place we settled into - be it weather or behavior. When change is afoot, it seems that regardless of how prepared we were to begin with, it still knocks us off our feet for a minute, reeling with polar vortex-like discomfort.

Recently, I made some big changes - both professionally and personally. And although I knew they were coming, I still wasn't fully prepared. It was sort of like catching a falling bag of bricks...despite preparing for the worst, somehow the shock of their impact still knocked me off my feet.

I wonder if the benefit in preparing for change really is in how gracefully you get back up. It's also in seeing the signs of change before hand. The sands will still shift - regardless of how many fruitless barriers we try to put up. the best bet is to watch for the signs and simply brace for the impending impact.

This fall.

Most people who know me know that fall is one of my favorite seasons. I love the rhythm of days, the falling temperatures after summer's scorching temperatures, the angle of the warm, golden sun in the sky, and leisurely cooking my Sunday afternoons away (chicken and cheddar corn chowder anyone?).

But this fall has been a little different - some would even say a little busy (please send help - in the form of wine and coffee). Admittedly, though, I love this busy pace. I have never been good with sitting still for long. So I have to say, I wish most of my days were this busy. But there is a never-ending ebb and flow to daily life that makes the ritual of being self-employed always thoroughly eventful.

I have spent the past 6 weeks shooting everything from conferences to commercial work, families to fashion, and everything in between. There has been little time for leisurely activity, but when I squeezed it in, it was glorious. And more appreciated than ever.

Despite all the work, I have managed to capture a few moments of in-betweens (mostly taken with my trusty iPhone). Here is a look at what has been happening in those precious and fleeting moments of free time.

You can't have fall in Charleston without an evening on the beach.

And the colors against the tidal trails are always spectacular.

Marsh mornings. That golden marsh grass gets me right in the feels.

Of course, so does this.

Apple picking is one of our new traditions. And this was right before we got soaked to the bone with rain.

I lose myself in these woods time and time again. The smells and the colors and the light. Just spectacular.

What you don't see: Road trips. Work. Frostys. Lots of downtown walks. Family time. Friends. Wine. Meditation mornings. Evening walks in our little neck of the woods. Scouting. More work.

At least someone has time for rest. She seems to be settling in nicely.

Looking back.

The Blue Ridge Mountains. Shot with my trusty iPhone.

Often I have heard the expression "Don't look back, that's not where you are going." And for the most part, this is a point with which I whole-heartedly agree. After all, to get where you want to go, don't you need to focus on the path before you?

The past can look ugly up close - filled with heartbreak and mistakes all looming back there to show you how you went wrong and where you shouldn't have taken that fateful turn. Self-doubt lives down those dark streets and alleyways and hides in the corners we feel least confident about exploring.

But occasionally, I think we all need to look back there. We need to see where we have been and most importantly, what we have come through. And if you get enough distance from it all, you will see it actually paints a picture that isn't half bad.

After all, back there behind you is where you came from - scaling skillfully over mountain tops and repelling into the great unknown below.

Chances are, if you catch an overall glimpse of it for a second in that rear view, you may actually see you have done a good job after all, despite those bumps in the road.

Weathering the storm.

Last weekend, I got a call to shoot a wedding on the beach. I don't normally shoot a lot of weddings, but I do love the smaller ones the most. I really get to know the bride and groom a and feel a more involved in the story around me. These photos seem to tell a more intimate story. But maybe that's because I know so much about what happens.

This wedding, though...this wedding got me right in the feelsies.

When I arrived at the venue, I got out of the car to near freezing temperatures and the most gale force winds you have ever encountered. I normally don't make it a practice to go to the beach on the windiest days. It seems you are fighting against all odds. Struggling and working hard just to stand upright. I avoid struggles like this one at all costs. But these crazy kids...they just didn't let it phase them. Not at all.

The day before the wedding, I contacted the bride. We all knew the forecast wasn't great - rain, falling temperatures, and some of the gustiest wind you can imagine. But I wanted to check in with her and ask a few questions:

"So....ummmm...do you have a back up plan for tomorrow with this weather coming?" I asked.

"Not really...as of now we are still getting married on the beach." She replied, almost sounding relaxed about it all.

I nervously replied, "You know about the wind and the temperatures, right?"

What she said next changed my perspective:

"You know, the most important thing is that I get to marry Andy tomorrow. Everything else will just fall into place after that."

This perspective was so clearly obvious. But considering the circumstances, it was also incredibly grounded and calm. Lindsay had her priorities laid out: she and Andy were to be united in marriage and love - after that everything will work itself out.

To me, this is not only a strong testament to the day, but their marriage. So many people focus on the day and the details - it's hard not to. The money invested in a wedding is no joke. But to her, being united with the love of her life was what it was about. And no windy day, no falling temperatures, no cloudy skies, no raindrops were going to knock this day - or this marriage - down.

So here they stood. Freezing. Shaking. Working against the odds. Smiling the whole time. Happy. In love. Big Love. Whole, full, love that is ready to weather any storm that will come their way.

Congratulations, you crazy kids! I can hardly wait to see what is in store for you both!

"Do you want to hear a story?"

I will start this post by telling you that in my experience as a photographer, I have learned that three year-olds are notoriously hard to photograph. They get tired easily. They constantly move. They have new and growing personalities which present a whole different set of problems when you are trying to get the photo of a lifetime from them. No pressure when someone has paid you hundreds of dollars to show up and get the perfect shot, right?

________________________________

"DO YOU WANT TO HEAR A STORY?"

A few weeks ago, I was asked to shoot a small family gathering the beach. After an exchange with the family, we all agreed on a time and place and were very excited about our shoot here in Charleston.

I met the family on a Friday evening. After an unusually calm and easy shoot with 4 couples, 1 almost three year old, and newborn twins, we started winding up the last part of our shoot down by the water. The mother of the little boy here looked at me and said, "Do you want to here a story?" Since I love a good story, I naturally said yes.

Rachel proceeded to tell me through teary eyes about her little boy born prematurely with a rare kidney disorder. As an infant, his kidneys were removed and this little fighter was put on dialysis. Too small to receive a new kidney, he had to grow bigger and stronger before he was able to be considered for a transplant. His little tiny body needed dialysis to keep him alive and well until he found a donor and he was big enough to endure the major surgery.

About a year ago, it was time. They decided Logan was strong enough to undergo the surgery and found a perfect donor match – his dad. He is a new person now. Alive. Active. Happy. And strong. And so cute and sweet, as you can see here.

His mother suggested we get a few photos of him with his shirt off - showing off his battle scars. Obviously, I wholeheartedly agreed and so did Logan. He was game for everything we did this that day. He never stopped smiling or hamming it up for me and my camera. Little did I know, I was working with a pro. Seems like my little friend, Logan, has been in front of the camera for a large part of his little life as one of the faces of the National Kidney Foundation. So this shoot with the typical three year old was not so typical after all.

______________________

I love a story. I love being able to tell the stories of all the people I know and meet. There are some incredible people all over the place. You can find them sitting next to you at the coffee shop. You see them walking through the grocery store.  You find them in the house right next door sometimes. But everyone - every single person - has something to tell. And these stories are the magical things that bind us together. If you don't believe me, go check out the blog http://www.humansofnewyork.com/. You won't need much time to see the thread the binds us all is our experiences and our empathy.

To learn more about Logan and his story, you can watch this video:

#tellmeyourstory

Be Strong

Be strong.

Be brave and be fearless. Believe in yourself. Know you can do this thing. Know you can conquer the beast. Know that the only thing keeping you from your fullest potential is you. Don't believe in the bad things. Believe the good. Believe you are strong and able and smart and capable.

Be bold in your choices. But know they will come with work. Hard work. Boring work. Monotonous, tiresome work. It's not all joy and fun. It's not all easy. It's hard. And sometimes the road is long, uphill, steep and rocky.

But you, my friend. You are strong. And capable. And more powerful than you know.

Be strong, mighty soldier. And know that - no matter what - believing you are strong is half the battle.

#lovechs

#lovechs

I am searching for love. Looking for it right now under seashells and behind moss-dripped live oaks. I am looking at the bottom of pluff muddy rivers and on top of gentle salty waves. I am searching on the endless sandy beaches, below tall steeples and beside prickly palmetto trees.

The end of summer has worn me out. It has hurt me in ways I didn't think possible. Every morning for the past month, I woke up dreading the long, steamy, sultry days that September clings desperately onto. I am tired of this game she plays with me with her threats of hurricanes while she taunts me with promises of cooler temperatures. Every year she burns me like no other. And I am falling out of love with the city that brings me these hopeless messages.

As I find myself yearning for cool mornings, cold waters, and warm wooly sweaters, I decided it would be more useful to try to fall in love again. So I am on a search for love inside this pretty city. It won't be hard to find the beauty. But to stay in love through those long summer months will be the trick.

You can follow my efforts to find love where it once was over on Instagram (@libbywilliamsphotos). Join me in my search for love again by hashtagging your own photos #lovechs

The lessons in a Black Belt.

Recently, my 12 year old got his black belt in karate. That's right. A Black Belt. Capital B. It was exciting to watch his test and be such a part of this accomplishment with him. He started karate when he was just 3 years old with his teeny tiny black pants and his very own white belt - the symbol of innocence, purity and freshness. And for 9 years he has worked his way up the rainbow-hued ladder of changing karate belts to arrive at this incredibly impressive goal. Seventy-five percent of his short life was directed to the goal of becoming a Black Belt. Amazing if you stop to think about it. 

I have written posts before about being a proud karate mom. This isn't one of those posts.

While I want to wax poetic about how proud I am of his accomplishments and how inspired I was watching him grow as a person and pressing through hurdles to his final goal, I will spare you - sort of. What I want to talk about is what I learned about myself as a human - and most importantly a parent - during this time.

It is so hard to watch your children struggle. Most of my life I believed the role of the mother was to fix the problems of your wee little ones. Skinned your knee? Let me fix it with a kiss and a band aid. Hungry? I will feed you nourishing foods. Tired? Time to tuck you in with a bedtime story. Sick? Let's have a popsicle and a snuggle on the couch watching cartoons. That's what we as mothers do.

But it was through the process of watching him become a Black Belt that the true test of Motherhood really started making sense to me. You see, it's easy to cheer someone on when they are excited and passionate about something they are doing. You really just get sucked into the vortex of "yayyy" and "awesome" that goes with the passion. But that didn't happen during his transition from a brown to a Black Belt. His passion for karate started dwindling. He fought me on going to class. He argued about practicing. He complained about being too tired, overwhelmed with all the frustrations that went along with the work involved. He started to become a little lazy. He started just going through the motions of the work...passionless. And me - I started to become discouraged and simply wanted to give into his pleas to let him take a break.

Each time he complained, I rebutted with a "you can't quit now" remark. Each time he waned from his goal, I encouraged him with a "you can do it" cheer. Each time he threw himself in the car after practice - sweaty, salty and teary-eyed - I said "you have got this, buddy." The only rule I had with karate after he was a green belt was that he couldn't quit. He was too close to turn back and he had to finish now. I didn't care how long it took him. But quitting now was not an option anymore.

My knee jerk reaction was to say "I know it's too hard. Go ahead and take a break." But I didn't. I didn't give up on him. I didn't cave in to comfort him and cushion him this time like have always believed was my mission as his mother. On many occasion, I wanted to wipe the tears away and say "Let's go have some ice cream and keep our Wednesdays to ourselves." But in these moments is where we both found our strength and some courage to carry onward to the ultimate goal - his a Black Belt, and mine his Mom.

This was a tough parenting lesson for me. And it took 9 years for me to dissect it and understand what it all meant. I always want to make the harshness of life easier and more gentle on him. I am no Tiger Mom. I even parented myself the same way for years - kind and comforting for my aching heart and soul. I am not hard on anyone really. I am happy to be the soft spot people land when times get tough. But deep down, I know the hard work needs to happen. I know it's better if you put in the blood, sweat and tears. I know you need to painfully shed a few layers before growing into your new person. Most importantly, I know it needed to happen for both of us.

Ultimately, I believed in him. I knew he had what it took to make it to the final goal. The reward is now that HE believes in him. This is the pivotal lesson in parenting and in life. I think that we all need someone to believe in us while allowing us the space and time to do the work it takes to accomplish our goal. You just need someone there pushing you from behind saying "you have got this!" He now knows he can accomplish his goals, regardless of the size. But I think the lesson will always lie somewhere hidden in that little Black Belt. The hard work. The perseverance. The ups and downs. The beginning and the end. The help and cheers when we need them most. It's all right there...for both of us.

The work is always going to be hard. Mothering. Black Belts. Life. But the pride you feel after doing the right thing instead of giving into the voice. That's the stuff we are made of.

So proud of you little man. I can't wait for our next lesson.

Our INCREDIBLE karate family.

Slow it down.

All of life is just passing us by in a moment - whizzing around me at top speeds as we wind our way up the glorious summit. And all I want to do is stop the car, smell the fresh air, pick some wildflowers and watch some of the clouds wander aimlessly by. All I want to do is slow it down.

Below my Feet

"And now I sleep.
Sleep the hours that I can't weep.
When all I knew was steeped in blackened holes.
I was lost.

Keep the earth below my feet.
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak.
Let me learn from where I have been.
Keep my eyes to serve my hands to learn.
Keep my eyes to serve my hands to learn."

Below My Feet, Mumford & Sons.

Sweet Sips of Summer

Finishing off summer with a sweet goodbye is something I need to get into the practice of a little more often. By this time of year, I am usually drowning in the shift of seasons - back to school alarms combined with the humidity of September is enough to make me want to quit life and move to cooler pastures with crunchy leaves, sweatshirts and fireplaces ablaze all day. I quickly forget summer's bounty she promises to me in May, with bursting vegetable gardens full of color and warm water you can float away the days in until you are pruned, waterlogged and pink and ripe as a juicy watermelon.

This year, I am trying to see summer for all it's colorful, sweet gifts and be grateful for the time we spent together. I am trying to lean into these last few tough days as I wait eagerly for Fall and her gloriously cooler weather celebrated with long evenings by backyard fire pits.

For now, I plan on getting as much of Summer as I can. Watch a few more sunset. Take in a few more summer storms rolling in from the west. And get a few more grains of sand stuck between my toes. For now, I will suck out these last little sweet sips of summer through a straw - and linger with it just a little bit longer.

Happy Birthday to Me.

This weekend, I had another birthday. It was simple, sweet and perfect to quietly ring in another year while I let go of the past once again with a long deep, breath as I blew out all my candles.

I am another year older and wiser.  I don't mind getting a little older...really. I just have realized I don't want this life to be wasted anymore. I am becoming acutely aware of the limited time we have in this planet and while I am here, I want to live my moments with purpose and passion. I want to be loved and feel love. I want my life to have direction - even during those lazy hours lying in my comfortable bed or pointless walks on the beach back and forth to nowhere in particular. The time I want to stop wasting time is the time I spend cozied up with worry and fret and the fear of not measuring up to a standard I think only I put there to mark myself against in the first place.

I have learned a few things. Mostly, I have learned that I am still learning...a lot. And I have learned that unlearning things you deeply believed is probably the hardest part. But everyday I show up. Somedays it looks a lot tidier that others. But I try to make myself better all the time. I try to address those fears and march on a little taller and prouder. Every day, a little stronger.

So today, a few short days into my next year, I started to live once again. I faced fears and wasted time today. I learned again in yet another life lesson that I have much left to learn. I saw myself breaking an old habit while learning I needed to let go of another one. I loved today and was loved today. I was grateful for the simple things.  Mostly I learned - like I do every day - to love myself where I am.

I am here today and now. And I am ready to face the rest of it all, regardless of whether the wind is in my face or at my back gentle pushing me along.

Happy Birthday to me!

The Outtakes

If you know anything about me, it's that I love capturing the story during any session I am working. It's loads easier to do with a family than...say...bankers. But I can almost always capture a little bit of personality no matter what the outcome or who the client.

At the above shoot, we worked hard to get a portrait of the family with their departing and well-loved nanny. She was preparing to go off on a new adventure, and the family wanted some photos together with everyone. It was a steamy August day during the week after 5 PM. Mom and dad were just home from work and the kids were reaching their maximum capacity for the day. Instead of forcing more portraits, we decided to just let them play and have some fun running and giggling and being 100% boys.

Not every client has this level of trust with me. Most everyone has a preconceived notion about what they are going to get as an end product. Clearly, on  commercial shoots I have to deliver a specific product. And I do - every time. But sometimes (especially a family shoot with young children), our plan has to be a little looser. We have to get what we can in the hour or so I am with them. And that requires flexibility and an open mind on everyone's part. Even mine.

Truly though, this always when the magic happens. Little hands playing with planes. Teddybears strewn about. Storytime. We got all of it in which I hope they find much more important in the end than their formal portrait - which was sort of like trying to wrestle greased frogs. 

Actually, being a photographer is a lot like wrestling greased frogs.

For the record - sweet photos of little boys playing in boxes might be my new favorite.

The Rhythm of August.

Fezzie, our 15 year old kitty, enjoying some world order and peace in our quiet little corner of the world.

I hate to admit this, but I actually love the end of August. To me, it feels like a time of quiet rebirth for my weary and weathered soul...a time you can set new goals and resolutions that you don't have to share with anyone. January comes along predictably with it's loud and boisterous claims to resolve my world and bring order to every corner of it.  But August is different. August promises to resolve problems with subdued style, like she is keeping my little secret plan tucked away in her quiet corners. It's my favorite month to dig in my heels and start something fresh while I pull back on the reigns I dropped when I heard someone claim it was Summertime.

Maybe it's because August is my birth month (yayyy birthdays!) and I feel the need to check in with myself and my ever-growing, evolving Bucket List. Or maybe it's the natural rhythm of life starting over again with school and schedules and order after floating around aimlessly through summer. But whatever brings it on, I know I truly enjoy these rediscovered moments of list checking and goal setting. I enjoy being wrapped up once again in Possibility.

So this year, instead of mourning the school year that brings it's 6:00 AM alarms and piles of homework and carpool lines, I will embrace it and appreciate that I again know what is expected of me. I will once again fall in love with those quiet mornings of making tea, folding laundry and setting out on the path of check boxes and goals set bravely in the morning light.

Twelve.

My little man...August, 2005. On his first day of preschool.

It's getting harder and harder to write these posts.

Twelve.

That's a long time to know someone. Twelve years. I haven't know many people that long. But it's more than 12 years, isn't it? I have known you longer.  And it wasn't even at the moment I knew you were a part of me. It was light years beyond that day.

I remember a good friend of mine saying to me when you were just a wee little thing "Can you ever imagine a day in your life where you didn't know this person?" The thing is, I couldn't. There was no other way to describe that feeling either. It's as if I had you with me all along. It's like I knew you when I was 3. And then when we were 9 on the playground. And today at 12. You see, you have been in my heart forever.

I don't expect you to understand this now. As a matter of fact, you may never understand this feeling. But it's as real as you are in my life. I have loved you forever.

I never thought when I pictured myself being a mom that one day you would be here. I never though you would be a cell phone carrying, video game playing, almost as tall as your mother twelve year old.

Twelve.

I never pictured 12. I pictured a little baby. Snuggled up with me. Toddling around in front of me. Giggling gleefully at peek-a-boo and splashing in the tub. I pictured Sesame Street and Elmo and baby powder and diapers. But I never pictured 12.

But here we are. And I am so glad I am here with you today on your 12th birthday. Because you are all those things. And you were all those things. But you are so much more. So much more, Graham. You are gentle and kind-hearted. You are smart...so smart! You are strong and brave. You are grown and responsible and funny and true. You are my heart and my soul walking this planet more bravely than I ever could. I don't think I could be more proud to watch you grow and change and learn. I couldn't be more proud to be in your life. I couldn't be more happy to be someone's mother.

I am not afraid of these next years anymore. I can't wait to see you become an adult and morph into the superhero you really are. I have mourned a lot of the time that slipped through my fingers like water that you try to hold on to. It doesn't stay. Only droplets remain and the feeling that you sort of know what had been there. But the holding is futile. It only stands in the way and limits the possibility of what is to come.

You are going to make this world a better place just by being yourself. Don't forget that. You are going to make the people around you kinder, gentler, softer and braver. We need more people like you walking around this planet. So please, don't stop growing into the amazing person you were put on this planet to be. You will be faced with challenges and doubt. It's part of the game of life. Push through them and stay grounded to the person you are right here and right now.

Be brave, my little warrior. And love large. And remember everyday that I will always have your back.

Love,

Momma

Blurred Lines.

When I started off on my own path, I looked for the clearly lines of a well worn trail in front of me. I think we are trained to believe this is the way of The Game of Life from the time we are teeny, impressionable, normalcy-seeking children looking for clear rules and a well-defined path. So early on, I always wanted to be lead directly to my Destination, marked with descriptive signs and no indication of any messy undergrowth. The signs would say "GO THIS WAY" making sure I didn't miss anything important to The Game along the way - husband, 2.5 kids, mortgage, cars and a white picket fence.

Apparently, I don't like to play by the rules.

So, with no certain path, I jumped tracks and found nothing but blurry lines. The one where I wasn't 100% sure where I would end up. It's scary some days. And I am never sure what I am truly doing. But what I have come to find out is that I love that I have the power to rewrite the ending every single day no matter what those Rule Makers had in mind for me in the beginning.

The thing is, I really don't think any of the lines are clearly defined in life after all. Sure some paths are marked a little better than others, but there are always obstacles and challenges along the way. There are twists and turns and uphill climbs and treacherous downhill slopes. There are also easy, flat paths to cruise calmly along. But things change and don't always go as planned. Life requires us to compromise a little and learn how to lean into the discomfort. Most of life is a big, blurry, messy pile.

So I will keep marching along this path - blurred lines and all. And be delighted at the things I pick up along the way, focusing in on them long enough to appreciate where we are in the present since that's the only real thing I can see anyhow.

Weather the storm.

Some days that water comes in strong,
washing the secure foundation
out from around you
and leaving you on shaky, unfamiliar grounds.

Nothing between you and the sea anymore.
Nothing to hold you up.
Nothing to catch your fall.

But still, there you are.
Standing strong in the face of it all.
Ready to weather it again.

Ready to rebuild whenever needed.

#weekend10 - 12 weeks and counting

I want to write about the beautiful weekend I had. Fun in the sun. Exploring a new place I had never been. I want to tell you how I tried a new restaurant and loved every minute of it. Or how I did something spectacular on a whim like ohhhh...I don't know....skydiving or kite boarding or something exciting and thrilling.

But this weekend was none of those things. It was rainy and hard and boring and sad. I had to deal with some major life issues that have crossed my path. Not to mention that back to school stuff looms over our heads like a dark cloud around here. And then there was the rain. The non-stop, incessant rain. The never-ending grey days where you are never quite sure if it's 6 AM or 6 PM. Dark. Dreary. And downright depressing.

It's okay that sometimes weekends aren't magical. Like my previous post says, sometimes you have to lean into those dark spots to come out on the other end and appreciate the bright days where things actually do feel right.

Before you start thinking to yourself - man what a whiner. Her life doesn't look that bad - I am aware things could be a lot worse. As a matter of fact, they have been a lot worse before. And I am still standing. That's how this works. You dust yourself off and carry on with life. But we all have to know sometimes life isn't as easy as it looks.

Despite it all, I found a few frames that felt right to show you how my weekend looked.

Inaugural swim at my sister's new pool! Yayyyy pools! (iphone photo)

Karate practice. He is brushing up for his black belt test. That's right. BLACK BELT! (iphone photo)

The legos came out. I love it when the legos come back out!

This is what the 12 year old playdate looks like.

The Birthday Banner makes the annual appearance. For Birthday month! (5 birthdays in less than 4 weeks. We still celebrate the ones who are gone.)

Apparently naps are better on fresh laundry.

I picked up a copy of Skirt and found a full page image that I shot inside! Complete with credit!This certainly was a bright spot in my weekend!

Oh....the rain. I sometimes wonder if I could just jump in and swim to the other side. (iphone photo)

One more practice to round out the weekend. I am so proud of him! He is working really hard for this goal! (iphone photo)

It doesn't look half bad in photos. Funny how photos have a way of masking the reality that happens behind the lens.

The bright spot.

I wish this wasn't true about me, but I spend a lot of time mourning the things that don't go right, particularly when I am in the middle of an unfortunate bad streak. When everything feels broken, dusty, worn out, and just plain old tired, I find it hard to look on the bright side and be perky with positivity. I get bogged down with the little things like lunches and laundry and back to school bullshit (seriously...what's with all the emails already!). So when a day comes along where everything seems to go along without a hitch in the middle of a bad streak, I feel like I am walking on sunbeams down a golden street headed straight for the promised land.

That was this day. Perfect. Sunny. And bright blue in my happy heart.

It's those stormy skies that make me appreciate these sunny, perfect days even more than usual...like when you see a polished piece of silver in the middle of a pile of worn and tarnished plates, it seems to sparkle more brightly and look fresher. 

I look forward to days like this...days where the sun shines brighter and the clouds seem like fluffy, pillowey piles of cotton candy floating by. But because not everyday can be that kind of a day, I will put on my rainboots and trudge through to the other side. Because if there is one thing I know, there is always a bright spot to sit and stay for a while at the end of it all.

#weekend10 - Eleven weeks

Sleepover and pancakes. Pools and puppies. Fruit and Farmers Markets. I love you summer.

Frankie says "Relax."

Look at that little beggar!

Blueberries. Eggplant. Okra. (Taken with my trusty little iPhone.)

Making banana pancakes.

floaty concoction thing

When I dream of summer, this is what it looks like.

The end of my summer bounty.

Look who popped up to say hi! A surprise visitor.

And a little shoot at the Victor Social Club - which I shall be returning to promptly this week.