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.

The Book About Summer

I am working on a collection of summer images for a photo book I am tentatively calling A Virginia Summer. I’ve been building the book all summer long, using the MILK photo books editor, swapping pictures in and out, trying to see how the images relate to one another and how the story might unfold. Edit ruthlessly. Change up photo sequences. Look for connections. Leave room for the unexpected. This is work that does not feel like work.

You can find the book-in-progress over on my PROJECT page under the heading, A Virginia Summer. I still have some editing to do. Maybe some writing. I’d love to add some little element of surprise. I’m considering leaving a blank page for a tipped-in image (Yes, this is another book vocabulary word. A Tip In is a printed sheet inserted into a book by gluing or stapling it to the back edge of an existing page.) I’m hoping MILK will have a Black Friday sale and I can print my book at a discount. (Really, the quality of these books is phenomenal!)

I’m deep in a book, My Friends by Fredrik Backman. My friend Cathy said she loves this book, and since I love her style, I figured I might love the book, too. (Her blog, Knee Deep in Weeds, is one of my all-time favorites. She shares her life authentically, with gorgeous photography, and never tries to “influence me” beyond a gentle book share.) I won’t spoil the story, but so far, it’s about the friendship between three teenagers and a painting, The One of the Sea. This photo, taken at Westmoreland State Park, reminds me of the painting in the story. Where families are formed by the friendships we forge.

I’m keeping a list of my favorite lines from the book. Here are a few:

He was good at seeing the beauty in everything. That happens if you’re no good at seeing it in yourself.

With kind eyes and a tender smile.

Art is empathy.

There are beautiful things that are free.

Someone else needs to think something first so they’re allowed to know what they love.

His heart reached out to them like a plant reaching for the sun.