Hot and Fresh

The results of film photography are still highly unpredictable for me. This is what makes it fun—and frustrating. Some of the photos I had taken, hoping they would work for my current project, just did not work.

I really have difficulty editing sky colors and tones, and my film skies tend to be less bright, owing to the Kodak Portra film, I think. I try not to make the photos too “matchy-matchy” but it drives me crazy when some of the images have skies that lean toward blue yellow and others that lean toward blue red, and all the variants in-between on the color wheel. The more I attempt to correct and mix the colors, generally the worse things look. So, I mostly just leave the sky alone and work with what I have. All of this becomes important as I pull together pictures and sequence them for an interesting and creative flow.

For my current project, A Guidebook For Small Travels, the images are bright and vivid. Not exactly postcard-esque but leaning toward that style. So the film images just felt too muted or flat. Except for a cool photo of an ice cream stand at the fair and another of a dinosaur and a giraffe from the mini-golf on Patterson Avenue. Those two worked great and you can see them on the project page.

The film images still give me great joy and I’ll share a few here from time to time.

This image of the Krispy Kreme doughnut shop brings back treasured memories. I spotted this particular franchise in the Newport News area when we were visiting our son this past spring. It was one of those Pull Over Now moments where I instructed my husband to cross as many lanes of traffic as necessary to get me and my camera to that parking lot. I haven’t eaten a Krispy Kreme doughnut in years, and I am 100% certain my GI system would revolt with even one bite. But my mom LOVED those doughnuts! The closest Krispy Kreme to my hometown was a good 80 or 90 miles away, and whenever we made the trip from Colonial Beach to Richmond, she insisted we swing by and pick up several dozen glazed doughnuts, hot and fresh, to share with the entire family. Family being Grandad (Big Head), Grandma (Dot), Aunt Shirl, Uncle Bobby, Uncle Cal, Aunt Alva, Dad and all of the various children and cousins, all of whom lived within about 3 blocks of one another. I am eternally grateful to my mother for the legacy of childlike glee she bestowed upon me. When I think of my core self, this attribute is at the center, a fountain of delight, bubbling over.

The Dog Days of Summer

The heat is oppressive and the cold air conditioning is almost worse. It feels as though I am living in a terrarium, looking out at the world through the condensation of glass panes. It’s hard to generate enthusiasm for getting outdoors. But I feel cooped up. Restless.

We pick up corn from the farm for dinner and decide to drive the 45 miles to Colonial Beach. I am spurred on by a travel video I saw online of my small hometown. Through the eyes of a tourist, the town looks like a hidden gem. The destination quietly beckons. I need to see for myself. The promise of a curious future drives my commitment to our travels.

The afternoon sun glares, washing out colors, pressing down on us like a hot iron. Despite the heat, I lift the camera, and we talk of the past and the future of this small town. I am fairly well convinced that there is no picture here for me to see, but I am not content until we have driven around the point (The expression, to ride around around the point, is reserved by locals for the act of driving the perimeter of the peninsula, mostly as a daily ritual of mindfulness and comfort.) At the tip of the point there is the Dockside Marina where I see this little house boat, her adventure stalled.

Even as the left side of my brain works to create the picture, lining up the horizon, choosing a revealing angle, selecting only the most necessary details, the right side begins to imagine. Expanding my repertoire of safety beyond the familiar rhythm of constant motion. Where I stop running from uncomfortable emotions and instead create space for them.

Overturned Cupcakes

Cupcakes Overturned, July 2025

Our oldest son will visit for a few days this week. We will celebrate his birthday and our anniversary (these events being just a few days apart). He has requested cupcakes, and his favorite is yellow cake with chocolate icing. I have let myself off the hook for baking those cupcakes and plan to buy them from a local bakery. I have two bakeries in mind and decided to buy the mini versions this morning for a taste test. I planned to take a little still life photograph of the cupcakes but in the process of getting things set up, the cupcakes went sliding and landed with perfect form, plop, upside down, on our yellow kitchen chair. I debated for a moment, wondering what to do next. Give up and call the idea a wash? Buy more cupcakes? Nah . . . I just took the picture in all of its truth. Then my husband and I scraped the cupcakes off the chair and scarfed them down in single bites. We licked the icing from our fingers and smiled like the goofy kids we still are inside. I had to get a toothbrush and spray cleaner to get that chocolate frosting out of the little holes in our snazzy yellow kitchen chairs. It was a job, and yet somehow, still fun. I wasn’t angry or frustrated with myself for the misstep. My husband pitched in willingly to help with both the tasting and the clean-up. In the least expected way, this felt like the perfect anniversary gift. The kind of love that is light and effortless.