I mentioned my obsession for photograhy in a post a few weeks ago. Since then, something has happened. It feels like it is mushrooming out of control. Out of control in a good way.
I have been carrying my camera around and shooting, shooting, shooting. And sometimes I just stand there and stare through the lens. Just quietly staring, willing the composition to teach me something new. I let my eyes go out of focus and then back in. I shift over and down and release the shutter. I play the waiting game. Waiting for the right moment, the right expression, the right light.
I have learned the art of patience.
Don’t jump. Wait. It’ll come.
And it has, indeed, come. People keep asking me to shoot them. And no, all you smarty-pants people, not with a gun. With my camera.
I’m nervous and unsure most of the time, but I keep finding images amongst my work that really do, well, work.
Word has begun to spread and I have three shoots for this next month. An individual, a family, and a wedding. I’m dying inside. What I have always wanted is happening and I don’t feel ready. Not really. I mean I’m ready, just not ready. You know what I mean?
I want to tell people, "I read. A lot. And I shoot. A lot. And I enjoy it. A lot. But I’m not like a professional…like, like one of those totally cool beatnik-looking photographers with a really official looking camera. I’m just me. A regular gal with a very solid SLR camera and a bad habit of carrying it with me everywhere."
My biggest concern at this point is that I don’t want to get comfortable. I want to keep growing, keep improving, keep exploring. Not letting any stone go unturned.
I also want to make sure I keep loving what I’m doing. I don’t want the business aspect that seems to be chasing me down to rob me of the simple enjoyment of capturing an image.
So, I have decided to be utterly and absolutely true to the types of images I enjoy to make and look at over and over again. Other’s opinions will always diverge at some point, and with good reason. The analysis of a photographic image in many ways, is subjective. Some love what others don’t. At the same time, I want to always be stretching, changing, daring to try new things.
So, come along on the ride as I try, fail, try again, and maybe, just maybe succeed.
Do you have anything in your life that is waiting for you to pick it up and dust it off? Something that you own in your heart that could carry you deeper, farther, higher?
Grab it up and see how far God can take it.
*By the way, can you tell what American city I was in when I made these photos?
I let my littles borrow the camera every now and again (okay, pretty often), and they reward me every time with great little compositions. I promised them I would post a few of their photos on my blog and here they are. I hope you enjoy the perspective of little eyes. I am going to be handing them the camera almost everyday in the upcoming days to see what they see. I’ll be posting the results here through the end of October. Perhaps we’ll all see the beauty of the fall season with new eyes.
I have been absent from my blog for a little while. Not by any conscious decision on my part. Mostly just happenings that forced my eyes to the target board of life, that bulls eye seeming to recede even as I willed it not to. The cacophony in the periphery looming bigger and bigger taking over my vision, everything turning black and white but mostly shades of gray.
I have a feeling you know what I’m talking about.
We all have those times when purpose seems absent and urgency is everywhere, keeping our minds and emotions running at full tilt even while we are aware we are on a treadmill, going nowhere fast. The thought of slowing down and stopping seems like a sacrilege to society’s need for action. Always action. The blur of running here, running there, breathless greetings thoughtless in their offerings. ‘Tis a shame, I think. Not because speed and activity are bad, but because we have lost the art of restoration.
I am sure that most of my readers are women, some are men. In the spirit of re-discovering what matters, I have a few questions for you. They aren’t meant to be judgemental, but perhaps they can be a bit of a measuring stick, a wisp of a vision of the eternal. Those things intended by God to direct our eyes to that which lasts beyond our immediate vision. Here they are:
Breathe. Pray. Surrender. Ask. Accept.
Rest.
A week ago today we took a little jaunt to a local orchard to pick apples. It was so refreshing. The sunshine, row after row of well-pruned trees, bowing under the weight of the ripe fruit dangling from their branches. I was prepared for a bit of a challenge. I grew up picking fruit, but it was from the height of a 12 ft. ladder. When we arrived at the orchard on Wednesday, I could easily reach most of the fruit on the tree, right from my place on the ground.
Needless to say, it didn’t take as long to pick as I thought it would.
Little hands eagerly sought and found each heavy apple, picked it, and gingerly laid it in a bag. They took the work so seriously, my husband and I shared more than one smile as they ran from tree to tree, yelling at one another to come explore another in all it’s ready-to-harvest glory. It was all we could do to make them wait to take a bite until our stash had been weighed and paid for.
We wandered for a bit just enjoying the day, but decided to put the kids out of their misery. We hauled in our 65 lbs of yumminess, plunked down the cash and watched them as they hopped from foot to foot, waiting, waiting, waiting for our "ok, you can eat one." That first crunch of a freshly washed apple and the look in their eyes made my mommy heart swell. I love this part of mothering.
So, for the past week it’s been apples everything. Mostly eaten fresh, they have added a vibrancy to our meals, a kind of palate cleanser, that brings the best out of almost any dish.
Now, I am a simple person if you haven’t caught that yet. I don’t mind elaborate for special times, occasions, and holidays. But for the vast majority of the time I have a need to make things easy, almost ridiculously easy. I want the foods I make to be quickly and clearly translatable to my children so they never need fear the kitchen and it’s traditions. Nothing discourages a young child more than a mother shooing them out of the kitchen so the pie turns out right. When you let a child sprinkle cinnamon on a pie, or parsley in the soup, you are, in turn, seasoning their souls just a little. Don’t let these moments slip by. These moments to see their eyes blink in understanding as they begin to discover the pathway from the field to the table. Or, at least from the market to the table.
Let them pick the apples from the apple cart, carefully choose the tomatoes, and find the right onion. Teach them what it means to pick something, anything, and prepare it for their meal.
It takes a stalwart heart, if you are a perfectionist, but it is worth it. You see, I used to shoo my blessings out of the kitchen in the name of "just right". But eventually they became shy in ways that seemed to keep them back from discovering the very things I wanted them to discover most. I realized they weren’t going to learn to enjoy these things by osmosis. Often, they needed me to show them how to relish not just the food, but the experience of being together, the everyday fun of rubbing elbows over a cutting board full of fresh ingredients. Or, not so fresh ingredients, if you must. Honestly, I am not so sure the most important thing is that it be a perfect fruit or vegetable, or that is is certified organic, or sustainable, or whatever. Just make sure you, the big person in the eyes of a little person, accompany the dish with a good measure of love, and a sprinkling of grace.
Now, that is a recipe they will never forget.
Everyday Apple Crisp
4 large apples, whatever variety you choose or have readily available
Lemon juice
Cinnamon
Sugar
Salt
Bob’s Red Mill Gluten Free Oats
Gluten Free all purpose flour
Butter
I don’t really measure anything and I like fruit crisps for this very reason. It took me less than half an hour to throw this in the oven. Forget pie. Pull out the fruit and the oats, some butter and sugar and you can come up with a great dessert in no time.
You can peel the apples or not peel them, whatever you like.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Slice them into thin wedges, toss them with a splash of lemon juice, a generous sprinkle of cinnamon, 1 tablespoon all-purpose gluten free flour, and about 1/2 to 3/4 C. sugar. I am a cinnamon girl so I always add more of that and a little less sugar. If you have a super-sweet apple, you will want to taste as you go. An apple crisp that is too sweet is like a lady with too much lipstick. A little goes a long way to my way of thinking.
Prepare the topping by taking about 2 cups gluten free oats (I recommend Bob’s Red Mill Gluten Free Oats), stir in some cinnamon, a 1/4 cup sugar and a dash of salt. Melt about 6 tablespoons butter in a saucepan and thoroughly cut it into the oat/sugar mixture.
Grease the bottom of an 8×8 pan, spread the apple filling along the bottom, top it with the oat mixture and bake for 45-50 min. until the apples feel tender when tested.
*Variations on a Theme
Add these extra ingredients to the basic apple crisp recipe for more options:
Crushed walnuts and dried cranberries for a crisp with more texture.
Pomegranate seeds in with the apples.
Sliced, roasted almonds or whole roasted pecans with a drizzle of honey in place of some of the sugar.
All in all, doesn’t it just make so much sense that in this season of fallen leaves crunching underfoot and the temperature dropping, that our dessert of choice should be a ‘crisp’?
Have a beautiful week.