a poorly documented summer on film

I wanted to hold on to summer for longer.

Tomorrow I was trying to sneak the kids back to the ocean for a last taste of salt and sand, but Florence said no.

And so it feels like fall is coming before I’m ready to say good bye to long days and suntan lines.

Here are the too few shots when I managed to pull out a camera between the exhaustion and morning sickness that come along with the first trimester. Next summer there will be a new chubby legged, big headed child to photograph.

And maybe next summer, Gus will stop running off long enough that I actually get a picture of him too.

Married on the Front Deck: My Little Sister's Chesapeake Beach Wedding

I've been rooting them for more than a dozen years.

They said they do on the edge of the bay, surrounded by parents, grandparents, siblings, spouses and a whole lot of kids.

It was so simple. 

And honest.

And I think every one of the thirty-two of us who were witnesses would agree: it was damn near perfect.

On Sunny Slope Farm: Nora and Greg

Her mother-in-law made the ceramic vases for each table, and her step-mom arranged the flowers. 

Our mutual friend Anne and her ever obliging husband did the appetizers, and Mashita's Korean BBQ truck catered the rest. 

Her brother DJ'ed, and his mother altered her BHLDN dress. 

They made their guests trail mix to take home.

It was a family affair, through and through On Sunny Slope Farm with the hills of the Shenandoah serving as the perfect backdrop.

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.