Pictures Make the Best Gifts

Artifact Uprising is having a 30% off sale on calendars right now. I’ve been designing and ordering these calendars to give as Christmas gifts for years. I’ve always been pleased with the quality of the prints, and the gifts have been well-received.

It would be easy to spend hours deliberating on photo choices for calendars, especially if you’re into specific themes. But I take a simpler approach, mostly driven by the “does this spark joy” criterion. Generally, I look to photos from the current year— though I often have to go back a few years to find winter images since I tend to take fewer pictures during those months. I try to stick to a color palette so that the monthly photos flow smoothly. I don’t get too hung up on something specific for a given month like hearts for February with Valentine’s Day, but I do take a seasonal approach.

When I think of showing and sharing my work, this is one of my favorite ways. It’s not about approval-seeking or external validation of my photography skill. It’s simply sharing something I love to make in the same way I might make jars of granola, sugar cookies, or loaves of poppy seed bread as gifts. A joyful act of kindness.

Calendar Images for 2026

The Way In

From The Book of Alchemy: A Creative Practice For An Inspired Life by Suleika Jaouad:

“It’s easy to be energized when you’re in the grip of a big idea. But what do you do when you don’t have anything to work with? Just stay in bed?”

The book is about the art of journaling and its healing power. I’m not sure I would be able to journal for 100 days, even with prompts. But I do know that I could take a picture every day for 100 days, as long as the rules are loose and I can make it my way. This is my form of journaling: taking pictures. Sometimes I am hesitant to call myself a photographer, choosing instead to say, I love to take pictures. You don’t have to be a photographer to notice light and lines and movement and color.

We were buying paint for our front door makeover. Doors on 40 year old houses need a fresh coat of paint and new hinges, and sometimes, a fancy new keypad entry thingie. As the nice young person in Home Depot mixed our paint, the color of red peppers, I stood at the counter, surveying the workspace. When my eyes landed on the paper towel used to clean the paint can opener tool, I was immediately drawn to the random little swipes of color. I weighed my love of this accidental artwork against my need to not be a bother, to not impose, or stand out in any way. It’s a small thing to ask for what you want, and yet sometimes it seems like an insurmountable task. In the end, I took a deep breath, and asked if I could have the paper towel to take home. I explained that I take pictures and this paper pallet was something that caught my eye. The salesperson laughed and smiled and handed the paper towel to me. Looking for goodness is the way that I dispute negative beliefs and train myself to be optimistic.

Front Porch Views

Happy Halloween, October 2025

I pass this house regularly when I visit Charlottesville to pick up my favorite sourdough English muffins. I’ve met the owner a few times, an elderly lady who loves to sit on her front porch. I’ve noticed the tree in front of her home is always decorated for the season; she tells me her granddaughter does this for her. And she beams with pride over both the decorations and the granddaughter. Her story is a love story.

I think of how my mother loved to sit on her patio and watch people walk by, too. She furnished that space with an old metal glider, comfortable chairs of all sizes and shapes, and an electric fan. She decorated with wind chimes and anything that would spin on the bay breezes.

Nowadays many subdivisions have home owner associations that would likely forbid such decorations. I’m not sure who gets to say, or what determines, which decorations are tacky and which are appropriate. But I’m sure of this: I’m glad this is not my job.

Close to Home

“There's always a fresh perspective to be found, even in the most familiar places.” —Jennifer Carr

I need to walk after most every meal as a way to help regulate my blood glucose (it’s a whole thing to live with a genetic predisposition to diabetes and try your very best to prevent the development of this disease). As a result, my husband and I spend a lot of time walking around our neighborhood. We wave to regular walkers in our neighborhood and know the names of all of their dogs (hello, Webster, sweet labradoodle). We watch as parents teach their kiddos to ride bikes. We notice when folks make home improvements or move away. We see the same Sugar Maple Tree on DeVonne Drive turn vibrant red and orange every fall, and every fall we stop in wonder beneath this glistening canopy. Sometimes we need a dose of novelty and take to the road, but most days we are comforted by this simple routine of a walk around the block.

The pride and care our corner neighbors take in painting their little shed like a country cottage, wheelbarrow propped to the side, door left unlocked. Evidence of thoughtful gardeners. They way our next door neighbor carved an old tree stump to form a pedestal for a pot of flowers. Faithfully filled with annuals to match the season. This marker, a tiny art installation, we have passed each and every day for 4o years. The homeowners on the next street over who have a glorious pear tree in their front yard. We have not met these neighbors, but we always stop to marvel over their tree. The fruit drops to the ground, a feast for the insects and birds and squirrels. I don’t know if the deer who roam our neighborhood like to eat pears. If they had been home when I took these pictures, I would have asked if I could pick a few pears. Maybe next time around.