A lock is certainly an outward symbol of security.
I spent last week in Chicago. It was cold, raining, and the city was dense with fog for most of the week.
But it was also dense with people, energy, color and line in the best of ways. Being there in the middle of all that was a stark contrast to the small southern town I’ve recently started calling home.
“Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.”
Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
And just for grins, who can resist these happy dog cousins on a photo shoot in a field of Texas bluebonnets? Despite the weather in northern states, spring is alive and well in the South and green is bursting forth all over!
I didn’t get atop anything this past week but I did do a lot of looking up and in one instance even though I was looking down, I found something that was topping an adorable little head so I’m pretty sure that counts!
First up is a serious of rose sculptures that grace the riverfront in my new town. They sit atop concrete bases which sit atop the Red River here in Shreveport and they never fail to draw me in. When paired with a beautiful cloud-filled sky they are exquisite.
The official part of every single move starts with the same things: the arrival of the cardboard with it’s own unique smell infusing the air, the sound of packing tape being ripped off the roll emanating from every room, little numbered stickers marking the furniture, the massive truck pulling up in front of the house.
After 25 military moves this was our first civilian move. The physical aspects of moving were the same, the cardboard, the packing tape, the little colored stickers, the arrival of the truck…but the rest of it was radically different.
This is the house I grew up in, the house that made me.
Many of my childhood memories are centered around that front porch.
When visitors were expected I remember sitting out on the porch swing, trying to guess how many cars would pass by before the expected guests would arrive. My friends and I often set up our Barbie houses on the wide wooden planks. Many a game of Monopoly was played at the top of those steps. In high school my girlfriends and I would hang out on this porch, because the boys knew that was where they would find us. I lost myself in the pages of countless books while sitting here, the smell of my mom’s gardenias always present as I discovered other worlds.
Our neighborhood was full of these porches and many an evening contained people strolling by, stopping for conversations and pleasantries. The front porches encouraged familiarity in ways I’ve not seen in the many neighborhoods I’ve lived in since leaving Deer Park, Ohio. So many houses and neighborhoods I’ve encountered have yards with privacy fences and little or no front porches, and garages that people drive into, closing the doors behind them before they enter the house. Seeing neighbors requires a deliberate effort, and many times that never happens.
I think we’ve lost something in our world without them.
However, I visited New Orleans this past week and to my delight this is what I found. I took most of these photos in the early morning so people aren’t in these chairs on these front porches but in my mind, I see the neighbors gathering and I hear people greeting each other from them as they sit a spell and watch the world go by.
And to my delight, this particular front porch, every time I passed by, had friendly people sitting in those chairs, on this porch, in this neighborhood. The perfect trifecta, a good match indeed!
A front porch, a few chairs, and people who engage with each other might not solve all our problems but I can’t help but think it would go a long way in understanding each other. And wouldn’t it be awesome if all cities shared the spirit of Mardi Gras, ala New Orleans?!
It could be we need a Front Porch Movement with just a few beads thrown in for good measure.
I’m not sure the odds were against it but I can’t help but feel like luck was on my side when my sons met and then married these three amazing women. Each one of them is completely different and each of them is perfect for the son they married.
Against the odds or not, I love all of them and I’m thankful they’re a part of our family.
As I was scrolling through photos on my computer for this post a few minutes ago I also came across this picture of me with my siblings. It made me wonder what the odds are of the same two people having four children, with just one of them being so darn tall?
I’m headed down to New Orleans for some Mardi Gras revelry this weekend, hoping to come home with one of the coveted decorated high heels thrown at the Muses Parade. Something tells me the odds are NOT in my favor for that particular wish but I’m willing to bet fun will be had anyway and I’m also willing to bet the photo ops will be abundant.
May all the odds be in your favor this coming week.
I’m not a fan of taking pictures in sunlight but shadows have a way of transforming the ordinary into something more.
Each of these pictures would not have happened had it not been for sunlight creating shadows, the light painting a little something extra into a scene.
In Louisiana we call that lagniappe.
People are often surprised to find out that I’m an introvert at heart. After all, I spend much of my life engaging people through my Instagrams and am often energized by learning people’s stories. Recently a high school teacher that I’ve kept in touch with for decades told me I was a connector.
And I really enjoyed hearing that. Because I have to work hard at it.
There was a time when I hated to call a pizza parlor to order a pizza and I often still have to talk my self into picking up the phone to make reservations or engage a stranger in conversation. I suppose all my years as a military spouse forced most of that out of me.
I’m an extremely connected person, through my photographs, through social media and through this blog.
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