knee deep in weeds

a personal photo journal

summer time

“summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. for those few months, you’re not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool give you a courage you don’t have the rest of the year. you can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. summer just opens the door and lets you out.”
Deb Caletti

I can remember, as a child, that feeling the last day of school brought; the possibilities those three whole months ahead held, seemed endless. Suddenly there was time to do nothing and everything. There was the family vacations to look forward to, but for the most part my summer days as a child were my own. We kids were left to our own devices, allowed to play in the neighborhood with friends, maybe walk to the “little store” for an ice cream bar, or head to the creek to wade and catch crawdads. We were free, without parent’s or teachers hovering over us or planning our days. We built forts, road our bikes, played made up games and seemed to only come in when we were hungry or had to use the bathroom. Life was simple, full of anticipation and unhurried.

Even my parents slowed down. Or so it seemed to me. We ate outside, where my folks would often sit until it was almost dark talking, while I played with friends until everyone was finally called inside. We also ate differently in the summertime. Sometimes we would have nothing more than ears and ears of fresh corn on the cob or fresh picked strawberries on homemade biscuits. If the weather was scorching hot, my mother would pack us a picnic for dinner and we would head to one of the small lakes around our home, where my dad and I would swim to cool off.

Sometime there were overnight visits from out of town family who were on their way to further destinations. During those visits there were cousins to play with and sleepovers, often outside in sleeping bags under the stars. Summer was also the time that both my Grandmother’s would come for a visit (at different times). I loved how my father’s mother drank tea and called my father Bobby and my mother’s mother always allowed me to sleep with her. She smelled like flowers and taught me that the hollowed out hole, left by taking the seeds out of a cantaloupe, was just the perfect size for a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

If I am honest the past several summers have seemed like nothing but work to me. Too much gardening, too much watering; the feeling of being tied down with chores and obligations. Somewhere along the way I lost the pure joy of summertime. This summer will be no different work wise, as we are working hard to place our home, of 32 years, on the market to sell. The possibility of putting things in storage until we can find a new home, overwhelms me a bit for sure. But I see so clearly that this is my summer to put in motion some much needed changes. It will be a summer full of possibilities. The summer that opens its door and lets me walk free.

So all of this reminiscing is to tell you I am taking a break from this space for the summer. I am hoping the break will either make or break my commitment to this blog.

In the meantime I will be swimming in a little lake close by on hot summer evenings, while he and the dog watch. We will be eating simply, mostly from the bounty of the harvest I will take from a garden space that has taught and given me so much over the years. I will be filling all the vases with flowers, flowers I have tended for years, putting them in every room to be enjoyed. I also will clear off bookshelves, purge closets, downsize kitchen gadgets and try my best to convince him to do the same with the garage. I look forward to the one camping trip we have planned to Northern Idaho, where I hope to connect with cousins and swim in the lake of my childhood. I will go to bed early, and wake with the birds. I will do what I need to do to empty out the past in my being, to make space in my heart for whatever this new chapter might hold for us. I am ready, a bit scared, and excited.

I will still pick up my camera most days and post here and there on IG, but mostly I will take photos for me, printing them to fill the walls of our new home. And, I will still be over on ViewFinders every six weeks or so, where I hope you will drop in to say hi.

I wish you all a beautiful summer, full of time well spent. I hope you have moments to do nothing and moments full of laughter, love and wonder.

I will see you in the fall . . .


“She thought, If I’m crazy, I may as well do what I feel like doing. No point being crazy if you have to worry all the time about what people are thinking anyway.”
― Marilynne Robinson, Lila

I often agonize over what it truly is I feel like doing at times,
I wrangle with roadblocks, feeling judgement and guilt, and a bit crazy.
but as I stroll, camera in hand, I find beauty all around me.
some of it begs to be captured; keeping me inside the moment,
following light, free of scrutiny and accusations.


“The more uncertain I have felt about myself, the more there has grown in me a feeling of kinship with all things.” - Carl Jung

the week is full of first; we eat the first broccoli from the garden along with
a few strawberries, lettuce, and kale. the first organic cherries arrive at
the farm stand in town, along with fresh garlic and zucchini.
the roses (that were spared from the deer) put on their first flush,
and i cut the columbine down to the ground. the air conditioning kicks on, as
a heat wave hits us and rain is scarce, so i water something
everyday. the dog drinks from the end of the hose and digs a bit in the dirt
to find a cool place to lay come late afternoon.

summer is here in earnest. i try to stay up until dark, but prefer to get up
with the sun, and so i stop fighting the early bedtime, knowing the morning
will bring a choir of bird songs, fresh air, and time to just be. i understand how important
this time has become and allow myself to bask in the balm of its soothing medicine.

i feel a sense of freedom, along with a sense of peace as i stop resisting feelings and
emotions. but i also trip over memories and stumble into old behavior.
i don’t scold myself, but rather bush myself off and start over. sometimes
all it takes is a reframing of my perspective and trust, along with love,
for compassion to emerge.

i grasp that being aware is more than noticing the buttercups;
for awareness is fluid, and if i allow it to flow without restrictions or the need to
control it, beauty is everywhere. i give myself permission to be happy, to fully engage and love life,
even when things are hard and don’t go my way. . .

i have started back up with a daily photo, you can find them in the day-to-day tab up top,
if you are so inclined. i missed the practice, i missed the documenting of each day.

i took this with my 24mm lens. i love the point of view.

and that tongue!

have a beautiful week,