“People ask me why I use film and hand print when digital is so much faster. For me, creating art isn’t about speed or convenience. It’s about making an image that is self expressive, which is the essence of art.”

– Nathan McCreery, photographer

The weeks are flying by and I can’t believe it’s June already! P and I were reminiscing the other day about how waiting for June (our wedding month) last year felt like it took ages to arrive compared to this year. We’ve been so busy with work lately and it feels as though most of our time not working has been spent feeling unwell. I’ve been trying to get out and walk when I can but recently I’ve taken on a few extra jobs on top of my day to day job and my blog/Etsy Shop which has kept me tied down. This weekend will be spent relaxing, reading and hopefully painting! Hope your weekend is lovely too!Our kitchen windowsill – lime basil (which is now almost twice as high), oregano and aloe.

Our neighbour’s new puppy, Chase.

A pretty surprise in our front garden.

Some pretty spring blossoms on my evening…

There is such an empty sadness that fills your home when children whose laughter and shouts of anger have left the hallowed halls. When as a parent you are lucky to receive a text message from your child who used to speak real words to you daily and smile at you like they meant it, not to mention whisper words of love; that these children had the audacity to actually grow up and continue on with their lives, leaving you somewhere behind. And I am so proud, but I am also so invested, letting go is definitely not in the mother’s manual of learning how to cut the cord, because there isn’t one.

I was a teenage mother who graduated high school six months pregnant. The whole of my life has been my family. My first born daughter was an only child for six years; her father and I were…

The hurt is continual, waiting for change.  A difference to what already has been proven over a wasteland of time.  “Keep your chin up,” he told me.  “Everything will be alright.”  And now, he is gone, as I wade in the aftermath of what was left behind.  Why must another’s neglect to possibilities affect one after so many years?  Why do I cry for a father who once abandoned me, now dead, and for a step-father who chooses to ignore the love that waits to surround him?  I think, I just ache for something I once knew, that was stolen.

My love is an ocean in which I drown.

We must accept what is and release what will never be, and, so today, I let you go.  Your present is the only one left, that waits for you, under my Christmas tree.  A lonely, little package that reflects the girl I once…