Just Because and Even Though

Deconstructed Breakfast Burrito, July 2025

Just because my breakfast tasted delicious and felt satisfying and didn’t upset my sensitive GI system. And just because I love supporting a local business. And just because the vendors at the Farmers Market are helpful and kind and don’t mind my taking pictures. And just because I love making things.

And even though I was still in my pajamas. And even though I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth or my hair (who am I kidding, I never brush my hair). And even though I have “real” work to do on my list for today. And even though I worry that more still life images are somehow not enough, somehow too predictable, and too easy. And even though I really should be doing my daily exercises (and I haven’t for days).

I took this picture (and 30 more that were incredibly similar save for small variations in light as the sun peeked over and around and through the trees in my front yard). I had an impulse to take such a photo as I was eating my breakfast. I wanted to thank the fine cook who made the salsa and baked the sourdough tortillas so that I could be happy and fed. I wanted to reach out and give her a hug, and taking this photo seemed the next best thing. For a short while, I pretend that I am a product photographer. Except that I do not have a client to please. And this is not a job, so I will not be paid. And the only vision to consider is my own. And I think maybe she will like this picture and she will like knowing that someone appreciates all that she does and all that she is. Because I like it when someone does this for me. I email the picture to her.

It’s not complicated. When we feel loved and cared for, it’s easier to love and care for others. And when we act out, it’s most often because we are sad and hurt, and we feel overwhelmed by that pain. But making something is like a way to silence that alarm. And a really beautiful way to begin this day.

Tortillas and Salsa, July 2025

Hot House Tomatoes

Marinara, July 2025

Tomato Baby, July 2025

It’s hot, hot, hot. And humid.

We run errands early in the morning. Pick up corn and tomatoes. And sourdough tortillas from the farmers market.

The funny little tomato catches my eye, and the vendor at the market laughs when I tell her I need to carry it separately, not in the basket, but in my hand. She says I am not the first person who has bought a funny or odd looking vegetable and just smiles. I am happy for this small gift.

Tomatoes will sit for photos without complaint.

Simplicity at Home

Sage and Pottery, July 2025

  1. The only thing I can reliably grow is herbs. And I love them all. I cook with them and take great pleasure in cutting them to arrange into bouquets as though they were dahlias or zinnias. What they lack in colorful range, they make up for in texture, fragrance, usefulness, and reliability.

  2. I checked a book out from the library, Simplicity at Home: Japanese Rituals, Recipes, and Arrangements for Thoughtful Living. I don’t read the words but I study the pictures because I love design. I know I am not going to fold my clothes into perfect little stacks, grow food from vegetable scraps, make my own soap, or dye old clothes. I might consider a bath with with herb scented salts. But because I am easily influenced and love the thrill of the hunt, I’ve been searching for little pottery dishes and bowls at thrift shops. With great success.

  3. I’m skim reading The Secret Lives of Color and stopping to linger over the shades of green. Verdigris, absinthe, emerald, kelly green, scheele’s green, terre verte, avocado, and celadon. My bathroom is painted a color called Chilean Sea Bass and I feel as though I am in a spa every time I step into that little 6 foot by 6 foot space. It’s amazing how that change in paint color affected my entire day in such a positive way.

  4. I felt restless this afternoon and knew I needed to make something or write something. So here I am again. And the impulse behind the energy feels expansive and creative and kind.

Learning To See

I think we’ll go look at the the osprey along the Potomac River today. Dave will drive and I will read out loud to him. When we arrive at Westmoreland State Park I wonder why we don’t come here more often, and make a mental note to book a cabin once the park renovations are completed. Virginia is the first state park system in the nation to install a viewfinder at each of its 43 locations. The viewfinders are equipped with special lenses designed to help those with red-green color blindness experience an expanded range of visible color. We spend some time learning to see through the viewfinders. Just to see what we might see.

I know that this photo of the viewfinder will be the last addition to my current project. A photograph of a viewfinder, not the camera finder but a larger version of the same, is the perfect ending to my travelogue. Isn’t every photograph really about learning to see? To notice. And to feel it all so deeply.

The book, A Guidebook For Small Travels, is complete now. It’s being printed and you can view it here if you’re interested.