Peony Field, King George, Virginia, May 2023
Only a day earlier I had driven past the field, covered with thousands of cotton candy pink puffs. But on Mother’s Day morning, the harvest of peonies was nearly complete. Like the phantom pain of a missing limb, I could smell their fragrance even as the blooms were long gone.
Tanning and Bail Bonds, Hanover, Virginia, May 2023
I’m not sure if this is a distinctly Southern practice or if this phenomenon happens all over the United States. Regardless, I often notice the juxtaposition of two very different, and often contradictory, businesses in the same building. I can only imagine the improbability of bailing someone out of jail with a spray tan and an up-do.
Variegated Hosta, Downtown Fredericksburg, Virginia, Spring 2023
I’ve been deep in the world of poet Maggie Smith. First, reading her book, You Could Make This Place Beautiful and then listening to her interview with Glennon Doyle on the podcast, We Can Do Hard Things, episode 209.
There’s a lot to love about Maggie Smith. The way she uses words to create poems that cut to the heart, for certain. But also her integrity in the face of betrayal. And her willingness to step away from blame and guilt and see both sides of the street. While I have thankfully never experienced the trauma of infidelity within my marriage, I do know what it feels like to be betrayed. I tried my best to respond with integrity, too—accepting that I had a role in the fracture. But taking that high road is really, really hard.
I keep coming back to some central questions as I live into my sixties. I wonder how much of my life I have devoted to the need to be “good.” Has this been worthwhile? Or has my desire to be good limited my ability to be whole and human?
Maggie’s words resonate with me . . .
Yeah, you don’t want to take up too much space, you don’t want to upset people or make them feel bad or come across as demanding or as self-important. I mean, all of these things, a lot of it is I’m a Midwestern mom at my core, and so I’m supposed to be, what? What is the story? I’m supposed to be accommodating, self-sacrificing, available. I’m not supposed to want too much, I’m definitely not supposed to be too demanding, I’m not supposed to be angry, I’m not allowed to be sad, I need to be grateful.
On the surface this might seem to have little to do with photography, but I see myself in every picture. There is definitely gratitude and this is good. But there’s also a lot of self-doubt and holding back for fear that I might be too much in any one of hundred different ways.
Reading Maggie’s book, I felt seen. And in the pictures that I make, roll after roll of film, I see myself, too.
Daffodils, Spotsylvania Battlefield, April 2023
It’s a shame
when a child must parent
when self lies hidden
when perfection is the only protection
when everything is fine
when yes should be no
when the horizon must always be straight
and every breath requires effort
when copying feels safe
and finding truth like a maze of mirrors
to wonder all the time
Is this what I’m supposed to do?
to rekindle frustration and grief
over what might have been
to take a lifetime to close one chapter
and move on to the next
It’s a shame
But nothing to be ashamed of
