bluebells

Posted on May 28, 2013 by Kim Halloran-Fry

Precious little time to blog. Just popping in to record while its relatively fresh. A hike through the bluebell forest – Foxley Wood – last month. The bluebells come out late April to early May at Foxley. A smidge underwhelming, admittedly. Then again, the landlord has bemoaned the sorry state of spring flowers far and wide this cold damp year. We don't turn down a hike no matter. A day in the woods is always a day well spent. : )

(just looking, not picking I promise)

jump

Posted on May 26, 2013 by Kim Halloran-Fry

(my gorgeous soldier son)

(a daughter, a son, and a beautiful fiance-in-law ; ))

They say you can't go home again. That's obviously not completely true. People do that all the time. What I think people really mean is that you can't turn time back. That if you do go back to a place that was yours, way back when, it can never be the same. That part is sorta true. That isn't bad news though.

My oldest daughter and I traveled back to Colorado last week. It was my first trip back to the States in three years. That's a long time to be out of your country. It's a long time to miss your old friends. A long time to live on a different continent from some of your children. It's just a long time.

Was it different? No. Yes. The roads, the cars, the whole driving on the right side again. The houses and stores that have popped up. The altitude, the weather, the sheer scale of everything. All such a shock to the senses. Then, though, there were old friends, great food, and talking late into the night with my kids who are not kids anymore.

Was it awesome? Definitely.

Could I live there again? Sure.

Would it be like it was before? No.

That isn't bad news though.

We watched the movie Ten Years last night. While that isn't a ringing endorsement necessarily, there was a line at the end that hit home. One character had moved overseas in the years after high school and wasn't sure he would be coming back again. His friends, still nostalgic for days gone by and not entirely at peace with where life had taken them, thought that was so very sad and asked why? He said he had loved that town. He loved moving to the new place. And he was pretty sure he would love the next thing in store in his life too. Why look back (with either longing or regret) when you can look around and look ahead?

I feel that way too, and that isn't because life has been so exceptionally easy. It hasn't been. There's no pity party there. Just being frank. It's been tough. And I'm not completely sure it's going to be a whole bunch easier in years to come. But in life, like in photography, we always have a choice about where to focus. In life, like in photography, it is critical to nail your focus. It all gets fuzzy when you don't. It's hard to see things the way you should. Could.

I loved living there. I truly did. I would love living there again. I love living here too. I think all that has a lot more to do with the decision to love than the particular place in question.

If you've read these pages for any length of time you may have figured out I don't take leaps of faith so well. Sometimes I leap and then completely freak out mid-air. There were a few moments of freaking out before boarding that plane, while negotiating flight changes, when my heart was stretched across a very wide ocean with kids who need me on both sides of it.

It was still a good idea to jump.

along the river Ouse

Posted on May 15, 2013 by Kim Halloran-Fry

"How lovely the little river is, with its dark changing wavelets! It seems to me like a living companion while I wander along the bank, and listen to its low, placid voice…"

– George Eliot

checkers

Posted on May 13, 2013 by Kim Halloran-Fry

April showers bring…

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Kim Halloran-Fry

Flowers don't worry about how the're going to bloom. They just open up and turn toward the light and that makes them beautiful.

– Jim Carrey

That's my thought for the moment. Actually I have a lot of thoughts at the moment but that one sums up. I am reading Joyce Meyer's The Battle Belongs to the Lord this month. She says,

"I believe that the devil assigns demons every morning to sit on each of our shoulders and whisper in our ears,'What are you doing to do? what are you going to do? what are you going to do?'

It is so liberating to say, 'Lord I don't know what to do, and even if I did I couldn't do it. But, Lord, my eyes are on you. I am going to wait and watch for You to do something about this situation – because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.'"

Ours isn't the worrying about how.

We just have to turn toward the light to find beautiful.