I’ve been going through old photos, trying to decide how organized they are and if they’re backed up adequately. (Ummm and nope, in case you’re wondering.)
This is from 2014.
It was not the best year of my life.
But somehow, in the midst of all the completely insane and demoralizing situations that popped up, I managed to grow some poppies.
Four years later, I am still kind of shaking my head in wonder.
And I’m like WHERE IS MY PRINT OF THIS DO I EVEN HAVE MY OWN PRINT OF THIS IT’S NOT UP ANYWHERE IN MY HOUSE.
In June, before my birthday, we went to PopToo’s house for a couple of days.
I’ve been threatening for years to make it a regular thing – we’re going to go (me and all four kids) and spend the night (or a few nights), even if we have to take our school work, and even if it throws everybody off schedule (including PopToo), and even if it’s total insanity the entire time. It was pretty crazy, but we had a good time.
There’s this feeling I get when I wander around outside at Pop’s house… even when he’s been working and it seems like everything is different, there are pockets – ISLANDS – where it seems as though everything has always been the same. I can stand on the back deck and look out over the hazy hills and hollers, and remember being seven years old and doing the same thing.
I have wondered before why I love hydrangea so much. I decided on this trip that it’s because of this:
For the record, I have not edited these photos. I’ve adjusted the settings on my Nikon so that it saves the images with some extra contrast.
I was positively giddy when I finally got photos loaded into Lightroom on my new computer. I fiddled with settings for a few minutes, and then reset every single image and exported them.
Straight out of the camera.
Via a just-checking-about-edits process.