Scotland

It's funny. When people ask me where I'm going this year on vacation I most often get two responses when I tell them "Scotland again". If the person asking has never been they usually want to know "don't you want to see someplace different this time?" and if they have had the chance to visit they say "can you stuff me in your suitcase" I find myself thinking, what if this is the last trip you get to take, do I really want to miss seeing Scotland one last time? The response is always a resounding, NO! So I'm seeing the Highlands and Islands again this year but in the Spring instead of the Fall. I'll have a "big girl" camera this time and a lot more experience under my belt. I can't wait to get swept away by the beauty, wonder and romance that I find every time I visit Scotland. Be sure and stop back in a couple of weeks. I'll be sharing my finds.

Must be jelly cause ....

You can always tell when Spring and Summer arrive at Mom and Dad's house. There is always something ready to be canned. Dad is growing it and Mom is putting it up. Today was strawberry jelly made special for the grandkids who savor each scarlet dollop. What I would fret over and plan to the nth degree (jelly making} Mom calmly goes about without a worry. Years of experience I suppose and any missteps long forgotten. No anxiety included here. The only thing that goes into the jelly now is yummy ingredients and lots of love. Must be why it tastes so good.

Barefoot Freedom

Were you a run around barefoot kind of kid? Could you walk on asphalt and stickers, hot pavement and rocky beaches? Not me. I am the original tender foot. I even wear socks in the house and not just to keep from sweeping. This perceived fault of mine has created a deep seated envy in me. I wish I didn't have to stop to slip on shoes. I'd have loved to pelt down to the waters edge without a care for shell or pokey bits. Sigh. Maybe that's why this young girl really captured my imagination. As soon as I saw her and her dog flying towards the water, In my imagination, I slipped of my sensible shoes and socks. I was boldly running with them. Ignoring the potential for a debilitating foot mishaps. Slapping my souls on the earth without a care, celebrating my barefoot freedom.

Go There or Then in a Book

I'm sure we've discussed my love of reading in the past. I was time travelling again today in a book. I slipped back in time as I read then surged forward as my phone dinged. Then eased back again to pick up the story. I didn't need a time machine, just a well written story and a willingness to go there. I did and I will, go there every chance I get. What are you reading?

Seed Your Dreams

Seed Your Dreams

Cast them out from your heart
for others to share

Work the fertile soil you find
and enrich the barren ground
with hope

Then reap what your dreams
have borne

Its your garden, get busy

Dreams of Flight

I'd fly with you, if I only could
said the little porcelain bird

to deep blue pools and far off sands
in dreams we'd never land

I'd fly with you, if I just could
my one true feathered friend

I realized again today why I enjoy making photographs so much. Yes its the beautiful places but so much more as well. I was wrestling with and image I was trying to take. I'd been thinking about it for a while and was trying to make it work and it wasn't. I read a quote from Marc Chagall recently and it hit home again.

"If I create from the heart, nearly everything works; if from the head, almost nothing."

Once I let go of the wrestling, something else came in. A story, a line of poetry a bit of whimsy. As I took down this bowl to dust it I rediscovered a found feather and the little transfer ware bird began her story. I wish I could describe what happens when a story begins. I'm sure you creative folk have similar experiences. As you create from the heart something extra gets added and passed on for others to see and appreciate. This image is another reminder for me to let go and let the stories take flight and capture them if I can.

Worlds Collide

I spent the night in the country indulging my love of the night sky. I could see the metropolis I lived in on the horizon casting its glow like a rising sun. Each small town nearby had its own small dome of electric light it sent into sky, as if it announced and protected them from intrusion. I sat in the dark, harvested field waiting for just such a meeting. I sat in deliberate darkness waiting for my world to meet deep space. I wanted to see the meteors blaze across the darkness, their brief fire frozen by my lens. As I sat there in the noisy darkness. I could hear dogs barking from miles away. Donkeys guarding their flocks, braying at predators. The light, the dogs, the donkeys and the atmosphere protecting their little bit of space from any intrusion. How did one tiny bit of comet dust stand a chance against such vigilance? Worlds aren't allowed to collide.