366 days of photos in 2016! Here they are: January 1st though December 31st. The square format of the collage template I used cropped out bits and pieces from the edges, but what I saw through my lens—day in and day out—is there for the viewing.
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
One year ago, I set a goal for myself: Take one photo every day for a full year. 365 photos plus a bonus Leap Year day. And—I did it! 
I’m proud of my accomplishment. It’s a fabulous feeling to set your sights on something and go for it, and to keep going even on days when you don’t feel motivated or need to search for inspiration. This project stretched me and brought immense joy. Over the past 366 days I’ve felt inspired, challenged and humbled. I am definitely a better photographer for having done it, but what makes me the happiest is that I’ve put my passion for photography front and center in my life. Where it belongs.
And with that, here’s December, the final month in my 366 Project—for this year anyway (wink, wink):
Happy New Year!
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
Eight years ago today, my friend Dee passed away. We’d been friends for 44 years when she died. She is the only person in my life whose friendship spanned so many decades, the only friend who knew me from when I was a grade-schooler through when I was an adult. She knew me when my sister got cancer, when my father had a stroke. We were roommates in college and she saw me through many unhappy relationships and, thankfully, lived long enough to see me finally land in a happy one. Even though we lived on opposite sides of the country, she knew me intimately, what I struggled with, what I loved. I think about this—and her—a lot.
Even though we grew up across the street from each other, our families couldn’t have been more different. Her family was Catholic, mine was Jewish. I had one sibling and she had ten. I will never forget sitting on my front lawn, at age six, watching as one bed after another and yet another was moved into their house. Her parents ran a tight ship, which came as no surprise given her father’s naval background and the necessity with so many children living under one roof. They had chores with rotating schedules, someone always on tap to do the dishes or rake the leaves. My house was loosey-goosey. It’s not that I wasn’t expected to do my share, but I had much more freedom. When we were grown-up, she told me that she always felt envious of all the free time I enjoyed.
From my side of the street, I was envious of the camaraderie. She always had someone to play with, someone to talk to. When my sister got cancer and my dad had a stroke, I was only 12-years-old. I remember going to her house, especially during the holidays, and there was so much going on, so much noise and laughter, so much jostling and joshing, unlike my house where I had to be careful and quiet—half my family was sick, or just find a way to entertain myself. Our formative experiences were the polar opposite.
Which is why—looking back—I am always amazed that as adults, we hit it off so well. We had similar sensibilities and values. We both loved thrift stores, yard sales, and free piles. We both felt refreshed by a walk in the woods, and inspired by a good book. And we both loved to cook.
Of all the food we cooked together, Moosewood’s Mushroom Barley Soup became our signature dish. I can’t remember why. I’m not sure if we we made this recipe more than other Moosewood recipes (and we sure tried a lot of them), or if we liked it best, but over the years it became ours.
The last time I saw Dee, a year before she died, this is the soup she made when we visited her home near Boston. Of all Dee’s endearing traits (and there were many), one that stood out was her uncanny ability to pick just the right gift for those she loved, whether it was something for your birthday or Christmas or a special meal like this one. Her family members, her husband, and those of us lucky enough to have her as a close friend, were all the recipients of her incredible graciousness and thoughtfulness.
I miss my friend. Hers was an irreplaceable friendship. So I keep making our soup. It reminds me of her, and of the beauty and fragility of life and friendship. When I take a sip, warmth fills my belly and my heart. The world feels a little closer. That’s the promise of mushroom-barley soup.
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
If you want to give the recipe a try, you can find it in a blog post I wrote in 2009: Mushroom Barley Soup for the Soul.
Guess whose photo was featured in the November online issue of Adoptive Families Magazine? I am thrilled and honored to share my photo, one of eight winners chosen out of ~1000 entries, for their 2016 Cover Photo Contest!
I discovered Adoptive Families magazine when we first started our adoption journey. I was so happy to find a magazine for “my tribe.” Each month was filled with articles, many written by adoptive parents, on all kinds of things adoption-related such as establishing healthy interactions with birth families, integrating a new child into your home, navigating transracial issues, bonding with your child, country information for international adoption or how to survive the wait. A treasure trove of resources and networks!
The magazine often features photo contests for Mother’s and Father’s Day, kids and pet, seasonal holidays. This year I decided to enter. My photo, of our daughter spinning in her yellow dress is not one of my crispest images, the light is blown-out in places and the background certainly isn’t as dreamy as other shots I’ve taken. But, to me, this photo speaks volumes to who my daughter is–always a girl in motion, a girl who finds great joy in a “fancy” dress.
This particular dress comes with a great story that I’d like to share. My daughter received the dress as a gift when we visited the yard sale of a friend. I’d heard about the sale the week prior and thought it might be a fun distraction on a rainy Saturday morning. After we got there, we poked around on the table outside, laden with all sorts of trinkets and finds. But it was rainy, cold and windy so it wasn’t long before we went inside to see what they had there.
Almost immediately my daughter found her first gem, and ecstatically held up a pair of red clip-on earrings from the 1960s: Can I have these Mama? I said yes and she put them on. They were her first pair of dress-up earrings and she paraded around the living room of their house, showing them off to any and everyone whose attention she could capture.
That’s when Suzanne, whose home we were visiting, asked if she could take my daughter back to their bedroom to show her something. Soon after, my child appeared–a vision in yellow tulle. The dress had been Suzanne’s, made for her by her mother about 50 years ago. It fit my daughter to a t, and she was over the moon. We brought it home and she got dressed up in her earrings, her lovely yellow dress and sparkly red shoes. We put on some music and she spun around in circles, because this yellow dress is also a fabulous “spinny dress.” In that moment my daughter was in her own little world. She felt happy–and special–this dress was chosen for her.
Since that day, the yellow dress has taken the top spot when a fancy dress is required…or even when it’s not (like when her much beloved babysitter comes over). My heart warms whenever I see her in it. Not many little girls get to wear handmade dresses these days, and certainly not a dress as divine as this one.
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
Interested in domestic or international adoption? Are you an adoptive family? You can read more great articles in Adoptive Families Magazine by subscribing here.
‘Tis the season for holiday family photos. Yes, of course, there are always the usual spots to catch a photo session with Santa, but if you want to shake it up for a change, consider these four Seattle locations for fun—FREE—family holiday photos.
Pacific Place
Want to get a couple presents for the good kids on your list and snag a some fun photos at the same time? Then head downtown to Pacific Place and search each floor for the illuminated GIVE, LOVE , and JOY marquee signs!
Beginning December 2, for three weeks, a word will be “dedicated” each week. If you to take a photo in front of the marquee sign (by yourself, with a family or with a friend, or just of the sign itself), and upload to Facebook and/or Instagram (with that week’s corresponding hashtag: #PacPlaceGIVE #PacPlaceLOVE or #PacPlaceJOY, you will automatically be entered to win a $250 gift card to the Pacific Place store or restaurant of your choice. One winner will chosen each week. December 2-8: GIVE; December 9-15: LOVE; December 16-24: JOY.
And—If you’re visiting Pacific Place at 6:00 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. Monday through Saturday, or 5:00 and 6:00 p.m. on Sundays, look out for snow flurries. Indoors! November 25th through December 24th you can enjoy the Snow Show in the Atrium.
Bonus: Want to practice your night and lights photography? New this year there is a 3D projection mapping show on the 6th Avenue street side of Pacific Place—a magical lights begin at night-fall each evening from November 25 – December 31st.
Last year, 2015, we had a blast going up and down the escalators (what kid doesn’t like that) to check out the creatively painted Nutcrackers hidden around each level of the mall.
Archie McPhee
Is Bigfoot more your bag than Elf on the Shelf? How about a snowy white unicorn? Got folks on your holiday list who thrill at a quirky gift? Archie McPhee is the place to be! On the corner of 45th and Stone Way in Wallingford you can get some great photos against the really cool murals on the outside walls of their building. And then? Head inside for all gifts bacon and cat lady!
We used the photo I took of our daughter against their glorious red wall (in her Santa mustache that we purchased inside the store) for this year’s holiday card.
Swansons Nursery
You can buy your tree and your poinsettia at Swansons Nursery in north Ballard. But did you also know you can see real reindeer, a camel (the famous Curley), and a model train with a unique theme every year (this year’s theme is the Grinch)? Plus you can take photos in one of their two decorated sleighs. Swansons’ annual Reindeer Festival runs from
Bonus: This year, if you post photos of your Swansons’ holiday traditions on Instagram or Twitter through December 12th, (using hashtag #sharingswansons) Swansons will share the holiday spirit by donating one food item to the Ballard Food Bank for every photo posted. At the end of the 12 days of sharing, one lucky participant will win 12 fabulous Swansons’ prizes!
McCaw Hall
Love the classic feel of the Nutcracker but can’t count on your kids making it through a 2-hour performance? Then go check out the lobby at McCaw Hall at the Seattle Center which opens 2 hours before each performance! You can find cute photo-op spots like the enormous Mother Ginger statue with the “peek-a-boo” skirt, and giant mouse, three mini-stages, plus Seattle’s tallest Christmas tree.
Sometimes when the stress of holiday happenings gets you down, you need to think outside the box a bit. Wishing you a fun and photographic holiday season!
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
I am entering the final month of my 366 photography project. Thirty-one days remain in 2016, and I am determined to complete my project despite the fact that I will be having knee surgery in seven days. Even if I have to resort to taking gory photos of my knee, I am going to finish this!
The past eleven months have been fun for me. Fun, a challenge, and a great learning experience. I enjoy shooting every day. To be perfectly honest, it’s going to be hard for me to stop this habit, so maybe I won’t! The more I shoot, the more I learn about my camera, my world and myself. I look forward to discovering something new each day to take a picture of. Practice and discipline has helped sharpen my photographer’s eye.
This month I also embarked on my first Clickin Moms photography class, One light: Off-camera flash. I am really excited about this class because I know virtually nothing about flash. Plus, I live in Seattle where it is gray, dark and cloudy for many months so flash skills will come in handy, especially post-surgery when I am stuck in my tiny house with minimal natural light, in the middle of December. Light and shadows. That’s what it’s all about, in photography and life.
In photography there are no shadows that cannot be illuminated.
~Berenice Abbott, 1898-1991
And with that, here’s November!
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
It was a cold and windy day as we made our through the woods towards the shoreline on Whidbey Island. We were hiking along a trail near Swantown, which is at the north end of the island near Oak Harbor. As I glanced up at the dancing trees, my eye caught a glint of sparkle on a branch. Looking more closely I could see there was a rock, tucked in the crook of a branch. A beautiful painted rock. A ‘Whidbey Island rock.’
This wasn’t our first Whidbey rock. Credit for that goes to the kindness of a stranger who gifted a rainbow rock to my delighted daughter as we strolled down the pier in Coupeville. Soon after, we learned these lovingly created treasures are the nature girl, or guy’s, equivalent of capturing a wild Pokémon à la Pokémon Go.
Rock communities have been cropping up all over the Pacific Northwest, and this new take on treasure hunting is growing in popularity. With a little help from social media in the form of community Facebook pages, Washington residents are getting on their creative groove and sprinkling a little love around the state, rock by rock.
The sweetness is in the simplicity. Scout for a “good” rock (flat and paintable), buy some acrylic paint, sealer and paint brushes…and then the fun begins! Get your inner artist on and paint your rock. Seal it. Write instructions on the bottom of the rock that tell the finder which Facebook group to post a photo to once it’s found. Then, go hide your rock. Rocks are being hidden in all sorts of family-friendly sites: hiking trails, playgrounds, parks, town centers, and on the waterfront.
You can choose to focus exclusively on creating and hiding or you can be a finder too. Some people keep their first rock or rocks they find with special meaning and re-hide the rest. It’s all up to you!
I just love this! Anyone can do it: toddler, teen, moms, dads, grandparents. The entire family can get into the rock painting, hiding and hunting action. And it’s a fantastic way to connect with nature and community.
Rock projects are also a great way to help kids learn other life lessons, like you may not always find what you seek, though you may discover unexpected treasures along the way: wildlife, flowers, an historical tidbit—it’s all out there.
We picked up trail litter on our hike too which is a great segue for talking about taking care of the environment so everyone can enjoy it. But the best lesson, in my opinion, is that you can have fun and adventure by taking your eyes off your screen or phone, stepping outside and enjoying looking the beauty of our surroundings with those we love.
Interested in rocking out with your neighbors?
Facebook is exploding with community groups ranging in size from a few hundred members to over 28,000 like the group Vancouver, Washington, which was one of the largest I found. I saw rock group Facebook pages for: Kitsap, Port Angeles, Mount Vernon, Edmonds, Gig Harbor, Port Townsend, Mercer Island, Snohomish County, Tacoma, and Whidbey Island, and many more!
To find the group nearest you, search with the name of your community and the term “rocks.” Can’t find a group in your community? Consider starting one yourself! All you have to do is create a public Facebook page. This YouTube video shows you how. Then post simple guidelines such as no hiding rocks in national or state parks, on private property or cemeteries, along with reminders to be respectful to properties (don’t hide it where someone could run over it with a lawnmower or get hurt!) and ‘Be nice‘ when posting on the community Facebook page.
Want to be a rock artist?
Head on down to your local art store or purchase the following supplies on Amazon: Acrylic Paint Set, Clear Acrylic Sealer
Then hide your rock! If you find one, you can either keep or re-hide it—and make sure to post your find on the Facebook page corresponding to the rock group. I’ve heard people are finding rocks in one county and hiding them in another. Have rock, will travel!
Rockin’ Tips ‘n Tricks
We kept two of our finds and re-hid several others. I’ve seen some rocks with mind-blowing artistry, and I’m itching to go exploring and discover some more. I will say that we first learned about the hidden rocks, I found myself searching everywhere which, while fun, sort of got in the way of just enjoying the beauty around me. After awhile I forgot about the search and the element of surprise made discovery a lot cooler. Next trip to Whidbey, I think we might even paint and hide a Seattle rock of our own.
So if you’ve ever wanted to join a rock group, now’s your chance. Rock on!
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
Postscript: One of the Whidbey Rockers told me about a map that has been created to show groups from all over the world. Each pin has the name and web address for a group. Find a group in your area, and discover new groups as they are discovered and created. Here’s the link.
October’s end celebrates the completion of my tenth month. Two months remaining in my 366 Project. Reaching the 300 photos milestone on October 26 was a big—I got this–moment!
Fall is always dramatic, which is one of the reasons I love this season. But, for a photographer, fall weather brings challenges as well as rewards. Clouds might add moody interest to a picture but they can also create a blah background of gray verging on white. And then there’s the rain…
This particular October turned out to be a record-breaker where rain is concerned. Seattle had more rain this month than ever before. In fact in just one month we got more rain than typically falls in two months! 10.05 inches fell where normal for October is 3.48 inches and normal for November is 6.57 inches. Even as I write this post, on November 2, rain is falling outside my window.
But if you can get yourself outside, there is beauty to be found, whether vistas of mist and storms.
Or the small details of droplets on a brilliantly colored leaf.
On occasion, when the sun pops out, the view can be spectacular. Trees aglow in shades of rust, gold and green as far as the eye can see, magical sunlight against the clouds and reflections on still water.
And with that, here’s looking at you October.
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
Next to spring, autumn is my favorite season. The air has a certain crispness, clouds add interest to an otherwise gray sky. Nature puts on her spectacular coat of many colors. I love the earthy smells from dying leaves and the wet ground. Fall is a dramatic season, a season of contrasts—quiet misty mornings and thundering rainstorms.
After summer, a season with so much light and exuberance, I find the moodiness that comes with autumnal weather offers a bit of respite. A time to reflect while I enjoy the harvest or cozy-up under a blanket and sip tea on a stormy day This is why I always fall for fall.
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting
and autumn a mosaic of them all.
~Stanley H. Horowitz
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
As an adoptive parent, meeting the child who might become your child, is an epic moment. There’s no way to describe the feeling, built from years of yearning, anticipation and uncertainty. And I had already experienced this moment before. Twice. Two times, yet no child. So you can imagine—this journey—half-way around the world to visit yet another baby at an orphanage, was fraught with tension. What if this child had additional medical conditions beyond the scope of what we felt we could manage? What if we encountered paperwork snafus and were unable to register our intent to adopt this child? What if it all fell through in the end?
You might think we were just overly nervous first-time prospective parents. Certainly this was true. I don’t know a single adoptive parent who doesn’t worry about the same questions we worried about. But in our case, there was an additional albatross around our necks. We’d been in this exact place in the process before, and knew meeting a child might not turn out the way we’d hoped. Because, for us, it hadn’t.
In fact when we visited Armenia’s Ministry of Justice department to file the necessary paperwork to meet this baby, the head of the department, Mr. S, shook his head and uttered, “Ohhh…Shepherds” in his deep baritone voice. This was our third visit to his office. Three times, because on our second trip to Armenia to meet the previous child, we found out that one of us would have to come back—one month later. Unbelievably, the child we’d hoped to register our intent to adopt on that trip, was not yet “off the database” meaning available for adoption by families outside the country.
These circumstances set the tone for the day and our moods. Pensive. Anxious.
I remember how I felt when my husband and I sat in that room, five years ago, like it was yesterday. I remember the couch, covered with a white, fringed throw, soft cushions, like my grandmother’s sofa. I remember looking around the room, memorizing every detail. The closet that stood ajar, every angle off, like a scene from a Dr. Suess’s book.
The floor, weathered from thousands of steps back and forth through this same room, where we sat. Waiting. Outside the window, the sun was shining, but I couldn’t stop thinking about life inside, the life a child would have if this were their “forever home.”
By this time I’d already been on the receiving end of hate mail on my blog, from people—one in particular—who felt non-Armenian families had no business adopting an Armenian child and taking that child from their birth family, culture, and country. I understand this and truly believe the first choice should always be to keep families together, whenever possible. But sometimes circumstances are such that it’s simply not possible, not for the immediate family and sometimes not even for the extended family. Angry commenters claimed children were “better off” remaining in the country of their birth, even if it meant they’d grow up in an orphanage.
This orphanage, along with the other two I’ve seen in Armenia, is run by caring people. The buildings and furniture might not be in the best shape but the orphanages are clean and tidy. Children have their own beds. Diapers, while in short supply, are changed regularly as are the children’s clothes. Nannies give the kids attention, as best they can, given the number of children in their care. I know they form attachments, especially to some of the children, and I can only imagine how heartbreaking it must be when children they’ve cared for leave. But I also know how much they want each of these kids to find a home, because no matter how good an orphanage may be, it is still an orphanage.
I stared at the desk, where the head nurse sat, a cup of tea abandoned, notebooks sitting off to the side, notebooks where she kept records of the children, their height and weight, any illnesses they had, little details. While I waited I thought about all the details we westerners log, the pictures we take, the celebrations we hold as we keep tabs on our kids’ development: when they held their head up by themselves or roll over for the first time, how old they were when they got their first tooth or haircut, when they said ‘Mama’ for the first time. I thought about how a child in an orphanage might never know any of these details, might not have a single photo of themselves as a baby. I thought about how these kids would reach milestones that might be barely noticed and rarely remembered, that they might never have a single keepsake or memento from these “firsts.”
Sitting in this room, taking it all in, I was really struck by how this could change the course of an entire life and create challenges, some that may never be overcome, memories they can’t fully express that might haunt them and influence their personality, habits, relationships, their ability to bond.
We waited a long time before a nanny appeared at the door, holding a baby. I sprang from the couch. Our translator walked over to the nanny and I could tell from her gestures and demeanor, something was wrong. In staccato Armenian words I did not understand she spoke with the nanny who then turned and left with the baby. What had just happened we asked? Our translator explained. She brought the wrong baby.
I wilted with despair even as we were assured that our baby did indeed exist. We paced the floor, waited and waited. At long last another nanny appeared at the door, holding a different baby. And in mere moments, there she was, in our arms for the first time.
It’s all about the journey,
Beth