Sometimes, the highest height I may climb is simply above the pile atop my desk. I can’t see beyond my datebook. The horizon is outlined by pencil and dotted with sticky notes. 

Happy to have a clear spot. It may be small, but I claim it for my own.



Full Frame… Cropped Circles

I enjoy taking a subject beyond the frame. It’s a little thrilling, actually. These old wagon wheels–trussed up on whitewashed walls like ancient and battered relics–were pretty subdued subjects, but cropped so that not a single one in the trio actually exists within the frame completely… and, suddenly, they’re a little subversive! It’s a quiet protest of sorts–circles refusing to be tamed by a frame.



Rare… Letting Myself Be


A moment of serenity at the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens

My camera goes with me whenever my family visits any botanical garden. They’re places that grant moments of peace and introspection in the spring and summertime. To be surrounded by so many beautiful floral specimens, all at the peak of color and vitality, without having to have personally watered a single thing–bliss. I decidedly do not have a green thumb, you see.

At one point during this particular visit, though, I became overwhelmed by all the color and the sheer possibilities for photographic subjects. So I put the lens down… just let my eyes see everything and nothing and simply be. Not long afterwards, I stumbled upon a small cement gazing pool and composed this shot.

It speaks to me because I am the bowl, sometimes. For all my jagged and stretched imperfections, I spend an awful lot of time smoothing things over… with conciliatory words, make-up foundation or spandex. With a calm facade during a concert or a meeting, I am anything but serene inside. All it takes is a whisper of wind to mar the water’s surface. Everything affects how I see what’s within. This is why I carry myself over to a cocoon of leaves every so often. I’d rather have a canopy of trees reflected in my eyes.

It’s rare simply allowing myself to exist–without labels, without critique–but I am practicing.


Look Up… The Window, The View

It’s so dark here, and the footing unsure. The railing feels as though it’ll give way, and I’m afraid to rely on their hold.. but the window!


Fort William Henry (Colonial Pemaquid, Maine)

It’s just there above me. The view would be worth the climb. It looked promising outside, and I’d be so much higher. So I take each step carefully. My weight, though slight, makes the boards give just a bit–disconcertingly. They’re worn, the wood uneven, splintered away. Are stairs always this steep?

But the view! Look.Maine-5154

Look Up

For Posterity…


Pemaquid Point, Maine

It stands sentinel, a guard against loss–of direction, of life. It stands, a beacon, towards the safety of shore, away from storms. It stands, representative of an evening spent walking along striations upon glacial carved stone… representative of my efforts spent and enjoyment photographing the structure and moment for posterity.

One day, nature and time will have their way. What will this coastline look like in a hundred years? A thousand? Man might move this lighthouse away, further inland perhaps, as other structures have done… or artists and photographers will have the last of its image.

For Posterity

*In response to this week’s Discover Challenge.*



Fort Williams Park, Maine

Shorelines, any space where water meets land, mesmerizes. As creatures of the earth, many of us yearn for the open sea. The dichotomy between the two mediums–water and rock–certainly calls to my inner artist. As I walk along the stability of granite, listening to the fluid rhythm of the waves, my mind wanders. I am free to meditate and imagine.

Opposing forces, like those present along the shoreline, make for fantastic subjects. There is peace in seeing their coexistence amid constant struggle. On my very recent visit to the southern coasts of Maine, each wave and every boulder or stone clamored for their time in front of the lens.

Being the accommodating person that I am, I seldom put my camera down!


Partners… Big Brother, Little Sis


Siblings looking out across the ocean– Kiptopeake, VA

There is no one quite like a sibling. Childhood partners and playmates, so much about peer interaction–empathy, sharing, fury and love–are learned between them. In my case, I am the eldest with a younger brother. We share a tribal knowledge–a tribe of two. The way I view the world, the way I go about raising my children, the way I play with them… they all reflect my experiences with my brother. The privilege of seeing him grow into adulthood, to watch him become a man I’m proud of, to know he can always count on me because I am still his big sis… I wish these things for my own children.

This photo is a couple years old.  I asked them to pose for me at the edge of the water while we played on a beach that summer. I thought of my brother and the hope I have for these two siblings–that they grow into adulthood able to rely on each other, having shared the best of memories.



Staring at Curves…


Art, in its single-minded simplicity or complex symbolism, leads my mind to ever widening perspective shifts. Like this set of stairs, I am led upward to a place where I may look down upon myself and situation… thinking rational thoughts or delving into the abstract, depending on the lighting and my mood.

I love visiting the Chrysler Museum of Art in Norfolk, VA. It’s a jewel in the city I call home. Its collections are splendid in variety and content, its architecture a treat to walk around and through. I go as often as I can with my family. It’s full of corners and curves!

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Pure… Alone By a Fire

(While primitive camping at Belle Isle State  Park, VA)

The primitive heat of fire near your skin… there’s something pure there. The night surrounds with lightless sounds, and the need to see beyond the dark grips the skin like burrs. Curiosity is only banked by the reach of those flames. Safe, perhaps, or purely prey… the body knows to stay close to the ember glow.