IOA photohouse

What an interesting week this last one has been, for me. Ty was with his dad, on a hunting adventure, in Montana! The kids and I were home in Washington, left to our own devices. We spent the majority of our time outside, walking and exploring. Time apart is challenging, however; It always turns into a healthy separation that makes us stronger individually and also within our marriage. Time apart forces me to become perfervid, to rise to the occasion.. I create routines and stick to them, and I’m left feeling powerful and fulfilled for having kept all of our children alive and well 🙂

All of the above being said.. My photography suffered. I took many snapshots that left me pondering in post.. I had ideas that interested me, but was not able to develop them when I was out in the field. One theme throughout the week, though, was reflection. Reflections of trees, birds, and my children, in water – ponds, lakes, and the bay. I realized this repetitiveness midweek and became aware of how I was reflecting internally and tried to understand why. On a drizzly Friday morning, the kids and I spontaneously headed to Bloedel Reserve, a place of peace and tranquility.. A place of beautiful natural landscapes and also of orderly, groomed gardens. You can sit on a bench facing a quiet pond of ducks, or a bench on the bluff staring out at the vast Puget Sound. The rain was perfect in every way. It allowed empty gardens for us to walk through, silently and unaccompanied. My children sat in their stroller as I trudged them up hills and through the forest trails. Near to the end of our walk, we entered the ‘reflection pool’ area. I had been sincerely looking forward to this, in part because I had just seen a beautiful photo a friend had taken, of trees and her family, reflecting on the waters surface. I had also thought, ‘Wow! A reflection pool! That would certainly help round out my series of reflection photos..’ Fortunately for me, though, it was raining. And what is famously known as a reflection pool became something very different, to me. It became a simple space. One with simple architectural lines, vibrant green mosses and grasses, surrounded by deep, rich, dark Cedars. The rain washed away any reflections from above and it was no longer a ‘reflection pool.’ It was something different, a vessel, a container maybe. And now that my sweet husband is home from his trip, I feel much the same way – albeit in a biological sense. I am no longer a ‘reflection pool,’  I’m just me. A vessel element carrying nourishment to my family.