the happiest bride

a toast to future brides, inspired by joanne

may your love smile from the outside in.

and the inside out.

and every which way there is.

may it wrinkle your nose and send you forward or back, clutching your belly or the shoulder of the person you love.

standing next to you.

let your confident joy propel you through the crowd of faces you have loved your whole life.

as you vow to love another from this day on and on forever.

 

Venue:  Thousand Acre Farm

DJ: DJ Gaetano 

Caterer: Rouge Fine Catering

Officiant: Bryant Heisinger

Bouquets and boutonnieres:

Makeup: Jennifer Surovick

Hair: Just Teasin Salon 

 

this is all i have

Where can we store these memories?

What card catalogue can we access to pull each moment back and hold it in our hands, shifting it in the light, inspecting it with eyes wrinkled from experience?

I want to go back to when they were each brand new. And to when they each crawled, padded butts skyward. I want to go back to the first words that I have forgotten. To the weight of smaller bodies with arms around my neck. I want to go back to the first time I smelled their hair straight from the ocean. I want to see their tear-streaked faces turn to smile upon seeing me at the doorway.

But this is all I have. This record of the way light hit chemicals and was then transferred to pixel.

It is a cold substitute for the feeling of soft, padded toes, or the way it feels to pull my fingers through their sun-streaked, tangled hair.

Here they are, running through the woods. Here they are walking along the water's edge. 

Here they are during the era of the fedora. Upon waking from a nap that will cease to exist soon enough. Here they are while they can still be held.

These are not enough.

These are all I have.

another attempt

Motherhood makes us harder.

And softer.

And more confident.

And deeply insecure.

It leaves us content.

Exhausted. 

Longing.

Screaming.

Crying.

Laughing from the depths of our soul.

The embodiment of every cliche we ever heard before we lived them. 

Yet utterly convinced that our reality is extraordinary.

I don't think I will ever tire of trying to capture in image that which I can't grab with words.

This baptism through birth.

This new way of being that comes with creating a new being.

 

Also, if you aren't on my email list (or hanging out with me on the social medias), you might not have heard that I'm offering motherhood mini-sessions for a few select dates in May. These sessions will be done on film at Brownies Beach, in Chesapeake Beach, Maryland. If you're interested in more information or booking a session, email me at brackishphotography@gmail.com. 

Also also, I'll be in Ocracoke, North Carolina the last two weeks in July. If you will happen to be in the Cape Hatteras/ Ocracoke vicinity during that time and would like to book a session, I'd love to talk. 

around here

I don't want to cook dinner.

Or fold laundry.

Or clean a single corner

I want to read books written in the South.

And take pictures of my kids standing in slants of morning light.

I want to listen to music.

And take walks.

And tickle the goodness out of little toddler armpits.

It is never quiet here.

They are jumping. They are fighting. They are singing Hamilton and Frozen and the Wheels on the Bus. And sometimes I'm singing too.

Alamae and Jettie are finally potty training.

And Gus and Sena seem to be nicer to each other.

It looks like we've survived the winter.

notes from a field trip

I've always been a student in my heart.

Those years as a teacher didn't sit well.

I like to learn things. To know things. To fill my head with sparks and starts.

And so I flew to the other coast for the very first time.

Met a stranger at the car rental desk, stayed up late telling her secrets and listening to some too.

Joined up with an LA local who showed us secret spots as we slowly drove north.

Made a home in a cabin with four other strangers. Told more secrets. Listened to more secrets.

Drank so much coffee. Drank so much beer. Drank a medium amount of tequila.

Learned about light.

Thought about breathe.

Confronted fears.

Asked questions.

Stared into someone's eyes for three long minutes.

Jumped into the Pacific.

Danced.

Cried. 

Laughed.

Made friends across the whole damn world.

Took far fewer photographs than one would expect when away at a photography workshop.

All photos by me except the one of me, which is by one of those new friends, Cathlin McClough

All film. All developed by Indie Film Lab