Monroe Bay, Sailboats | September 2025
I’m not sure you can ever go home. As in a do-over of childhood. Everything still remains the same. It all looks different. Big homes tower above the modest home of my childhood. The small town is full of new residents with new ways. But there is still that loneliness that won’t leave me alone. This is the place I am from but not the place where I feel at home.
Monroe Bay, Lighthouse Bench | September 2025
Crab Apple Tree, September 2025
I would not eat a crab apple
even if
you paid me to.
Sour things,
both food and people,
make me feel anxious.
Sweets are my jam
and sweetie pie
is my favorite of all.
Turquoise House with Green Awning, September 2025
But I would like to live
in a tiny house,
painted turquoise
with a green awning over the front door.
I'd plant a patch
of perennials and herbs
and give away
bouquets of fragrant flowers,
tucked into small glass jars.
Of course, we expect challenges the first time we do things. The first time we try to pedal a bike, bake a cake, or make a friend. We anticipate that we will make mistakes and somehow that makes the hurt a little more tolerable. But for some reason, aging seems to be something we are simply expected to know how to do. As though we should intuitively know how to relate to adult children who no longer need us, how to make our time meaningful when we retire, how to navigate the changes in forty year marriages. How to let go and shift roles. How to age without apology. We do not. We are doing this thing for the first time. It’s easy to forget that.
For a while I felt emptied out from the inside.
Living in the shape of everyone else’s needs.
I keep shaking myself and reminding myself. It’s okay to be happy.
Orange Oldsmobile, September 2025
This is not the first time I have taken this photograph. By my estimation, this car has not moved for 5 years. I’ve taken the picture at different times of the day, different seasons, with different lenses, with digital and film cameras. I never get tired of playing with the composition. There is something about orange that makes me feel joyful.
Ninde Post Office, September 2025
This is not the first time I have taken this photograph either. But it is the best one to date. I love the little porta-potty located on the side of the tiny post office, neatly camouflaged with patches of wooden lattice. There are picture opportunities that only present themselves once in a lifetime, as if by some miracle or magic. But there are many pictures that show up over and over again, like old friends, ready to pick up where we left off.
Shades of Red | September 2025
One last watermelon picture for this season. The Farmers Market was busy and too crowded for my liking. So I walked along behind the booths and stopped to take a picture of the watermelon. Cut fancy style, to show off its sweet and juicy interior and entice buyers. I wonder just how you cut a watermelon like this. I’m sure there is YouTube video that demonstrates the technique, but I do not need to know everything. At least not immediately.
Running errands, I had a little headache which usually means I’ve waited too long to eat. We stopped to grab coffee and a slice of banana bread. I always feel better when well-fed and more able to see the bright side of things. The turned around stop sign against the red swinging gate door caught my eye (near the Sonic drive-thru). A sign shape that speaks its meaning even without the words being visible. A lovely shade of red, just like the watermelon. A last hurrah for summer.