I am a friend to the sand, to the swath of washed up coquina shells, to my long shadow that stretches down the beach towards the ocean. I am a friend to my notebook pages that flap in the sea breeze, to the bright orange swim shirt my son wears, to the jagged choppy waves. I … Continue reading Friend to the grains of sand
Last night on the back deck1 was cool and breezy. Wind blew wisps of hair from behind my ears, and it brought the briny scent of salt marsh and air blown across the Atlantic ocean. This morning when I stepped out of my parents’ front door — the front door of my childhood home — the world … Continue reading Morning run in Georgia
We travelled to my home town of Tybee Island after Christmas, and there’s something about smelling the salt air and being near the ocean there that makes me feel unburdened. Weightless. The sky was overcast the whole time we were there, which makes the images feel heavy. I, however, still felt light. Here are some of my … Continue reading Weightless on the beach
When I was six years old, my parents began building a house on a tiny island called a “hammock.” We lived on Wilmingon Island at the time, in a ranch-style house in a small subdivision. Wilmington Island had several neighborhoods, but it was pretty far out in the boonies at the time — 10 minutes outside … Continue reading Lumber
I am a fan of contrast: of rough against smooth, of blur against sharp, of dark against light. When I saw that this week’s Daily Post photo challenge is to share a shot that captures a contrast, I knew I would want to participate, and I knew I would want to share photos from our … Continue reading On the marsh
I was unloading the dishwasher the other day, and my wedding ring clinked against a glass bowl, making a sound so similar to a sound from childhood that I was transported instantly to a motorboat, zipping through briney rivers, the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. I even caught a whiff … Continue reading A Small Thing My Dad Never Knew (R)
Butterfly Mind 