Tag Archives: photography

Last Day In Kindergarten

Posted on by
Reply

It’s the last day in Kindergarten.

“Yes, you can build with Legos. Let’s drag the table over so you’re closer to the rest of us.”

“Who wants to play Taco-Cat-Goat-Cheese-Pizza? What? Yes, we can sit on the carpet and play.” (Translated that reads “Yes, you can sit as close to me and one another as possible!”)

“Sure, you can make things with the pipe-cleaners! Yup, I can get your braid started.”

“You want to blow bubbles? Me, too! Let’s make sure everyone else wants to blow bubbles.”

Bubbles always hold a sense of magic and joy for me. I love to dip the wand into the clear soapy solution, and with a gentle exhale create beautifully perfect spheres that bob along, and appear to glow with color in the sun.

Amidst giggles of glee, and groans of popped bubbles, I noticed there were reflections in the bubbles. “Oh, look at that! I want to take a picture.” The Kindergartners laughed as I encouraged them to try to blow big bubbles so I could get a photograph. They blew, and we chased the bubbles together, hoping to photograph one — in focus — at just the right moment.

“Did you get it?”
“I think so. Let’s look.”

They crowded around me. Awe and joy washed over us as we saw this image on my phone.

It made me think.

Magic and miracles are always present. Always present, but sometimes unnoticed. I want to notice them.

Magic and miracles are always present. Always present, but sometimes, unfollowed. I need to be willing to follow where they lead.

Magic and miracles are always present. Always present, waiting to be shared with others.

This reflection leads me back to where I started — with my Kindergartners on our last day of school. Much like the bubbles, they are extraordinary, beautiful, waiting to be noticed, worth following, awe-inspiring, and joy-inducing.

Birds, Photos, and Stories

Posted on by
8


It’s a beautiful quiet morning. The breeze is cool and lovely, and everything feels like gift.

As I sit, I notice a bird on the power line, silhouetted against the morning sun. I grab my phone and take a few photos. Intrigued by the images, and chasing the perfect one, I take a few more.

It may seem silly to pay so much attention to birds sitting on a power line. Really, what’s the draw?

At first the draw was art and possibility. The birds seemed like a perfect subject, with great possibilities for pen, pencil, or watercolor.

With each photo, I noticed more and more, and as I did, curiosity, wonder, awe, and delight joined the party.

The sun was bright white, and at first the scene appeared black and white to me. But, as I studied the photographs I took, I noticed blue. Blue?! I gazed upwards at the actual scene. Sure enough, there it was.

I took one more shot, and was gifted with the moon!

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is wp-1598193208239.jpg

At some point, connection and making meaning rounded out my morning party.

Curiosity, wonder, delight, and awe have been my constant companions these past few days. They’ve been filling my thoughts as I make art, and popping up in my research and reading as a colleague and I construct new curriculum. This morning they were present like faithful friends, encouraging me to photograph, study, consider, and enjoy these birds on the wire.

And, speaking of faithful friends — birds! They tweet their remarkable voices in the woods while I walk, and in the yard while I sit. They flit in and out of the garden, and even venture bravely onto the porch near my chair. And, just the other day, they blessed my art world in this Art Tool-kit video on sketching birds, and this remarkable resource by John Muir Laws.

When I first noticed the bird perched on the line this morning, I grabbed his image for the artistic possibilities. I thought he might fly off, and I’d miss the moment. But he stayed, and was joined by friends.

I’ve been working on breathing, and trusting life and God during these unusual days of the pandemic. That work, the birds continued presence, and my peaceful noticing, brought to mind the great spiritual His Eye is On the Sparrow, and the scripture of how important the small and seemingly insignificant sparrows are to God.

Birds, photos, and stories. I love when everyday things come together to tell a story.

I am held, seen, and heard.
I am loved.
Beauty is always present.
Hope is always warranted.
There is always more.
More joy, more surprise, more awe,
More beauty, more possibility, more reason to hope.
Look for the more.
It is here.
Expect it.
Accept it.
Live it.

There are endless stories to tell. Make them good ones.