Hello!
Welcome to my blog. I'm a writer, photographer, and mom in no particular order.
Welcome to my blog. I'm a writer, photographer, and mom in no particular order.
I wonder what it would have been like to come as a guest, to wake up in one of those beds and sit under the orange trees with a book, to watch the sunset over the Pacific.
South Padre is everything you’d expect from a touristy beach town. Lots of brightly colored souvior shops with kitschy items that both kids loved, tiny bathing suits, funny (and risqué) T-shirt’s, and giant fish complete neon and flashing lights.
So, if it’s all about the journey and not the destination, when or where do you consider yourself successful? At what point do you feel like it’s enough?
I loved the colors and textures. There are giant petrified logs everywhere, some of them huge, broken into sections or tumbled together.
There are things that remind me, tugging me into the past, the scent of homemade bread and oatmeal cookies, the taste of sun ripened tomatoes still hot from the summer garden.
The cars, dating from 1949 to 1963, are caked in years of paint, the layers dripping and bubbling, colors blurring into one another.
The blue is just that clear and intense, like nothing else I've ever seen.
My favorite random spot we came across was Baby Head Cemetery. We drove by and then had to turn around when I realized what the sign said.
I’m drawn to abandoned places; pulled by history and loneliness, the quiet holding echoes and visions.
My kids got tired of playing with the Christmas lights way before I was tired of taking photos.
I've always wanted to see Death Valley; always, like forever and universes long, something that has and will always be there.
The last time we were in California we packed in as much as we could, filling eight days with countless miles and memories.
Two days isn't enough to see everything Yosemite has to offer. I don't think there is enough time to see it all; to sit and watch the change of seasons and each the beautiful sunset.
We stood at the edge of the lake, clouds moving over the sun, the light coming and going, shimmering on the water.
It's magical. The silence and giant trees and the sounds of rain hitting leaves and touching your face.
Childhood is at once magical and terrible. It is full of things that terrify and amaze, the world an endless place filled with happiness and hurt.
We had just enough time to wander around the cemetery, watching the clouds roll in, and stop along the seawall before the rain started. It was fierce and fast and once it started we headed north.
