When I traveled to Virginia last week to see my new grandson I was delighted to find this scene outside the window of my hotel room in Alexandria.
I’m pretty sure one of my first photo shoots back in 1976 when I was a freshman in college was in a cemetery. I still hold a fascination for them….for the serenity I find there, for the untold stories of the people interred on the grounds, and visually, for the beauty that happens to stone and memorials when time has weathered them.
A bonus, on the first morning I was there, was the fog that shrouded this cemetery, adding yet another aspect of “weathering” to my experience.
What a miracle and life-changing event it is, to have a baby.
Morrison Lee was born in the very early hours of the morning on January 4th. The first-born son of a first-born son of a first-born son.
His parents just turned 35. They’ve had full lives, demanding jobs, and live in a one-bedroom apartment so this particular period of growth in their lives will definitely be an adjustment, but what a wonderful adjustment it will be!
I’m afraid of heights so this week’s photo challenge didn’t inspire much in me.
However, I am a fan of details and it was bothering me that all my upstairs windows had candles in them expect the one at the very top of the house in the attic. One would think that wouldn’t be so hard to rectify but it’s a two story attic and it required me to ascend this:
After which I had to navigate this expanse, the last ten feet or so being without wide boards to walk on. My over-active fear factor was great, imagining myself falling through the insulation to whatever awaited me below.
Like many houses throughout the world, my home has been undergoing a transformation this past week. I’ve not pulled out all my Christmas decorations in several years due to travel and putting a house on the market but this year we’re settled in our new house and our grandchildren will be here so no surface is safe!
All of it makes me smile….remembering my mom….who used to put red velvet bows everywhere she could. We used to joke that it was entirely possible for Dad to wake up from falling asleep in his recliner, paper still open and unread in his lap, to find a bow taped to his forehead.
We’re experimenting with Thanksgiving this year.
I’m a Midwest girl and for most of my adult life my husband and I have traveled to Ohio to celebrate Thanksgiving, often gathering around the turkey with over fifty immediate family members. Our first view of home is often the Cincinnati skyline as we crest the hill of Interstate 75 in Kentucky, the air is crisp if not downright cold, and the first thing we do on Thanksgiving Day is run the Turkey Trot with family members through the downtown streets of the city I grew up in.
This year we find ourselves in that odd time of life when we’re torn between being the “kids” who go home to see parents and being the parents who want to see the kids.
Our son was married last December in North Carolina and in-between new jobs and demanding schedules, our move to a new city, a hurricane in Houston, and their honeymoon this past summer, we’ve not seen each other since.
So this year, we’ve traveled to them to spend Thanksgiving on the beach.
I’m a baseball mom from way back so I can’t help but use a World Series reference on a day when the season will come to an end for 2017 in Game 7 between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Houston Astros. It’s been an exciting series and since one of my sons lives in Houston I must admit I’m rooting for more Astros than Dodgers to be rounding third and crossing that home plate tonight.
Seems I’ve been leaving and then “heading for home” quite a lot lately. Travel has been much more frequent for me in recent years and especially in recent months.
Leaving always means eventually circling back and heading home, perfectly illustrated in this cut paper piece by Al Souza at the Dallas/ Fort Worth International Airport.
Made from terrain maps, the rounded shapes are calming to me.
On many travel days that can be a very good thing.