Sunday was the Twin Cities Marathon – always a festive occasion in Minneapolis but extra special this year because Brad ran it!! Despite in juries & training setbacks along the way, he gutted it out the full 26.2 miles and managed to have a smile on his face every time we saw him. He’s not in this photo – one of the few I snapped all day – every time I saw him I was way too excited to think about my camera!
Way to go, babe. You did it and we couldn’t be more proud.
I’m always happy to find flowers still in bloom in early autumn – besides the ubiquitous mums, of which, I a not a huge fan. The meadow rue can easily be taller than me, despite its delicate appearance. I like things that manage to be mighty and tender all at once.
Last week I got the chance to chaperone Sawyer’s 6th grade field trip. It was an ‘old-time’ affair called River Rendezvous, a temporary city of tents set up to demonstrate life in the 1800’s. We ended the day with a pottery demonstration.
Wheel throwing is something I can get completely lost in. I took a class once while I was in grad school – just for fun – and was instantly obsessed. Watching a vessel rise up and take shape as if conjured from the clay just never ceases to amaze me. I guess I’m not alone; even the antsy kids were spellbound.
Sometimes the dog is pulling your arm and you have an art fair in the morning and your son is scooping minnows in the creek, and you’re telling him it’s time to go and then the sunlight comes and hits a big tangle of dead forest undergrowth JUST SO and it all turns into a gestural scribble, a linear sculpture, a study of light & shadow. It’s nothing really. And, yet, it’s full of movement and life and death and struggle and some little bit of grace.
Sometimes all you get is that one moment, that one shot. And then it all keeps moving.