The other night I completed my first ever trail run. It’s something I’ve been interested in trying for awhile now. It was really hot and the hills kicked my butt but I’m excited to try again in a couple weeks.
After a shower, I opened a cold beer and cooked up the food that has sustained me for over 20 years: a bean and cheese burrito smothered in salsa and sour cream.
At that moment (approximately 9:30pm), in my PJ’s with my hot dinner in front of me and my fork in hand, I realized that, AGAIN, I had forgotten to take a photo all day. I pulled out my iPhone and snapped two godawful pictures of my plate. When it came time to post one, I was mortified: it looked like a burrito massacre. The light was bad, the salsa was garishly red, and there was nothing remotely artful about any of it. Still, I figured it was better than showing up empty-handed for the third time in a week.
I couldn’t bring my self to share the photo. So I went completely berserk with Photoshop and turned it into something I could stomach.
Saturday we visited the Mill City Museum & Farmer’s Market. We got a free threshing lesson using a method called flailing – basically beating a pile of dry grain stalks with a simple log and chain tool until the seeds come out. We were surprisingly good at it. But, then, we’ve been flailing for years.
One of my favorite parts of summer is my daily sunrise yoga practice at Lake Harriet. Friday morning was particularly glorious: a cool, late summer breeze, pink-tinged clouds, the lonely screech of sea gulls and clank of sailboat moorings. It was all so beautiful I had to pull out my iPhone to take a picture. I’m so glad I did. I want to remember that August morning long after the snow flies.
It was one of those desperate moments when I realize, just before crawling into bed, that I’ve forgotten to take a photo. (This seems to be happening with increasing frequency, unfortunately.)
In those moments, I try not to throw in the towel. No matter how tired I am, or how dark it is, or how really uninteresting my bedroom appears, I believe there is something to see. Some material for art-making to be found. I always grab my camera and start looking. Sometime while cursing under my breath.
Count on light, reflection, and shadow to come through in the clutch every time…
Last Friday we journeyed down river to visit friends in Davenport, Iowa. Along the river roads, we stopped over in Red Wing for a lovely lunch at the St. James Hotel. It’s where we spent our first Valentine’s Day, where Brad proposed, and where we celebrated one of our early anniversaries. We wanted to share this history with the kids and revisit them ourselves – adding a fresh memory to the many treasured stories that already unfolded in this place.