Saturday: A Photo Essay

I want my life to rest in neatly folded piles beside my bed at night. I want to open and close my days with a piece of twine wrapped loosely around a leather-bound memory keeper, so I can capture, hold, and remember every last detail. I want to sigh heavily after a good days work and marvel at a beautiful, functional, organized kitchen. I want to wake before the sun, and prepare lavender scones with fresh lemon curd, and freshly pressed coffee.  Most days I manage to only accomplish the cup of freshly ground coffee, and steal a piece of morning sun for me, and my camera.

My photographs in this space only catch a glimpse of my days, and usually my favorite moments in the kitchen. What I share is in fact reality, but only a fraction of it. I have eyes and ears that crave beauty, and live to capture it. Some days I feel like a beauty thief, trying to desperately savor and soak in all that it is. I consider myself fortunate when I have my camera beside me, and am able to keep those images in my head alive.  Moments of the early light that sneaks in my window as I pour my morning cup of coffee, or the vulnerability of poached eggs just moments before Octave sticks her fingers in, and smears yolk into the carpet, are moments that stand out in my days.  I am not trying to portray something that does not exist, I am simply trying to hold onto moments I declare lovely, while they last.  I am trying to capture how I see and feel life.

But sometimes the photographs of food are staged, and the counter where I photograph is unusually clean, and the food is strategically placed under good natural light. This small, well used counter space is a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos and destruction. What you do not see is the kitchen table and white couch being colored while I take those photos. You don’t see the berry stained cupboards and grimy base boards.  I am not necessarily trying to hide those areas of my life, I am all about transparency, and I suppose they too are beautiful in their own way. However, I see that all day long, and I desperately want to hold on to the clean, quiet moments, especially when are few and far between these days.  My kitchen is my sanctuary and I take great pride in the presentation of food, table setting and dish washing. Food is where I put my energy, and this just happens to be a food blog that documents inspirations, recipes and happenings in and around the kitchen.  The fact that I wear yoga pants and sports bras almost everyday of the week, and am lucky to wash my hair one of those seven days, and haven’t scrubbed our bath tub in two weeks, does not get talked about, yet is very much my day in and day out reality.

Today I didn’t feel inspired to share “A Week In Photos,” instead I wanted to document an average day, in and around my kitchen, and share photographs that capture how I see my everyday life…the spilled milk, dusty mobiles, random meals that always happen at the end of the week, and beautiful fragments of light.

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6 am:  I wake-up and take in the morning light.

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6:15 am: Octave is already ready to go “bye-bye,” on the “bike.”  I sit and drink my coffee as she eats ,and I become increasingly annoyed and fixated on the fact that our dish towels have no drawer.


7:00 am:  I make breakfast and a mental note to dust EVERYTHING, one day soon.

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11:00 am:  We go for a walk, and I wear shorts for the first time in months.

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I teach Octave about shadows, and we look at our own.  I see my silhouette and exchange my bun for a pony tail.  I make a personal vow to stop wearing my hair in a bun everyday.


Noon:  We stop at Grant St. Market for lunch and limes.  We sit outside and stare at sunflowers, only to think of Colorado, Jill, and Aunt Lucy’s backyard.


3:00 pm: We come home to find a missed call from Jasmine.  I dwell in the simplicity and freedom of a home phone.  I may not ever want to go back to being tied to a cell phone, but I tell myself not to form an opinion too soon.


3:00-5:00 pm: Octave refuses her nap and cries for much longer than necessary.  I am too frustrated to document, so instead we watch The Food Network, while I regain some momentum to start dinner.


5:00 pm: I make my first casserole-esque type dish (I don’t even like casseroles,) in attempt to use up every last vegetable in our kitchen.

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6:45 pm: Octave goes down for a very early bed time.

7:00 pm: I sigh and make myself a killer gin, lime & rose cocktail, think of my mom, and wait for hubs to get home from work.

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